#not upset with us or logan or anything but it kind of make us sad

[echidnana]

i think it took us so long to realize we have depression because we always attributed everything to our dissociation

[sundrop-writes]

Shared Trauma

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader

Summary:

Gar had a very hard day. You know you can’t take away the pain, so you try your best to distract him from it instead.

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader. Friends to Lovers. Smut and Angst. Set during Season 1, Episode 7.

Word Count: 3,600

DC Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

THIS IS A RE-POST. This is a fic from my old blog (a blog that was shadowbanned, forcing me to move). This fic is not stolen, it is completely mine, and I am just re-posting it to help people find my new blog, and to make my masterlist complete when I post new fics for this fandom.

Detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: some emotional angst, mentions of trauma/PTSD - Gar kills someone for the first time and is very upset about it (as in the canon), friends to lovers, takes place during Season 1 Episode 7 (“Asylum”), descriptions of canon level violence, this is a smut fic, the reader character is implied to be fat, the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina, this isn’t a hard sub/dom relationship but there is sub/dom undertones, Gar is more submissive and the reader is more dominant, the reader calls Gar ‘good boy’ and he really likes it, tiddy sucking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, the reader rides Gar, creampie, quick/desperate sex. I believe that’s everything. Most of the focus here is on the emotional side of things and not the smut so if you wanna see more PWP, definitely let me know.

A/N: fic is titled after a Pierce The Veil song because I have been obsessed with the new album, and I think it really fits here. Having a trauma with someone, but it just draws you closer together and makes you seek comfort in them. I did consider making up a mission that wasn’t in the canon for this, but I am always drawn to how sad, wet, and pathetic he is after killing the scientist, especially if we’re doing sub!Gar - he seems especially subby and in need of comfort.

...

When you woke up alone, you weren’t entirely surprised. 

Of course you missed Gar’s presence beside you in bed. But you hadn’t exactly expected him to be sleeping peacefully after the day the two of you had. 

You and Gar were always the type of best friends to share a bed. Both of you sought the kind of comfort that could only come from cuddling close to the warm body of a safe person. Most often, you could only fall asleep beside each other. 

It had been that way since he had first been taken in by Doctor Caulder and he had come to you for comfort after he had woken up sorely missing his parents. On that first night, you had fallen asleep cradling him, and pretty much every night since then, the two of you shared a bed without question. 

The two of you were just intensely affectionate people, and you saw nothing wrong with expressing your friendship through those simple touches. It was just friendly, after all. 

The two of you always hugged each other tight and held hands while walking in public. There were many times when Gar put his arm around you or kissed you on the forehead, or times when you kissed him on the cheek. You weren’t shy about expressing your very platonic love for your best friend (at least, that’s what you had to tell yourself). 

The two of you weren’t romantically involved - you were just very close best friends. 

No matter what others thought when they looked at you, having those stereotypes in their minds about a guy and girl not being able to be ‘just friends’. Even if you wanted to play into that stereotype so badly with him - even if you wanted all of those people to be right. You would never risk ruining your friendship with him just because of some annoying crush. You were very good at keeping all of your stupid feelings trapped inside of your chest. 

Especially on days like this. When life got hardest, he needed you to be there more as a friend than anything else. And you needed him too. 

It was one of the reasons that he had gotten into bed with you that night, despite the fact that he scoffed at the very mention of trying to sleep. He wanted to be there for you. So you really weren’t surprised when you woke up and the bed was cold, void of his presence. Because of course, he couldn’t sleep. 

It had been a long, hectic, shitty day. 

After everything that had happened, you weren’t even really ‘sleeping’ yourself. 

You were drifting on the edge of consciousness, so exhausted from the day that your body was trying to forcibly knock you out. Between Kory and Dick screwing loudly on one side and Rachel and her birth mother chattering brightly and even crying on the other side, you had been having a very hard time falling asleep. That, and the horrors of the day still flashing through your mind. It made for a deadly cocktail that kept you awake. If not for the pure exhaustion of day’s events weighing you down - then you probably wouldn’t have closed your eyes at all. 

When you came back into a hard consciousness this time, though, you missed the feeling of Gar’s arm around your waist. You instantly missed the feeling of his pleasant warmth at your back - cradling you, making you feel safe. 

Before you even had your fully eyes open, you were out of bed yourself. It was almost an instinct, being so entirely drawn to him. You wandered out to the larger living space of the very expensive condo ‘safehouse’ with your socked feet on the cold floor. You clutched at your own arms under the loose sleeves of your oversized sleep shirt as goosebumps formed on your skin. 

You wondered in the back of your mind what the weather was like outside and if Dick had turned on the heat before going to bed. Then you had to wonder if adjusting the thermostat was even a concern in anyone’s mind after such a long day. It was probably only on your mind now that you were missing your human heater. 

You found Gar sitting on the couch. 

He had his oversized green headphones on, his phone screen providing the only real light in the room - aside from the everpresent glow of the city that leaked in from the tall glass panels that could be called walls in the ultra modern house. He was holding the screen inches away from his face as he slumped back against the unused couch. 

He was likely making an imprint of himself that would be the only ‘lived in’ essence of the overwhelming cold, expensive atmosphere of the place. From the sideways tilt of the screen and the way his thumbs were moving, you easily guessed that he was playing some kind of game. Something to distract his mind from the day’s events still playing there on repeat like a bad movie. 

He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that Dick had given him, dug out of a drawer of clothing that was apparently always kept in the place in case a need for it should come up. Just something else the ‘safehouse’ stocked, like food, medical supplies, and monetary currency from all different countries (because Bruce was rich and paranoid enough to be prepared for ‘any scenario’). 

Gar had paired the pants with one of your tee shirts. 

Something that was slightly big on him even with his natural muscle mass filling it out, bright tie-dye and worn-in cotton. It was purely you. Having the fabric draped over his body did make him feel at least somewhat at ease because it was soaked in your natural smell. It made him feel close to you even when he had gotten out of bed. 

He hadn’t wanted to bother you with his tossing and turning or the bright glowing light of his phone screen when he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep properly. 

He felt your presence in the room, but he didn’t look up until you crept further toward him, steering into his hazy peripheral view. He shrugged off the headphones as he looked up, locking eyes with you over the top of his phone. Your heart ached as you saw that expression so well illuminated by the sharp white light from the screen. He had the face of a kicked puppy, big wide eyes staring you down. Especially because he was making a clear effort not to let his mouth curl into a deep whimpering frown. 

You knew that the events of the day had been particularly hard on him. 

Of course, there was the obvious. The mental exhaustion and fear of being kidnapped and held hostage. The pulsating adrenaline of wondering if he was going to come out alive, on top of the worry he felt for you, Rachel, Dick, and Kory. The intense physical torture he had suffered at the hands of ‘scientists’ controlled by a doomsday cult. 

But on top of all of it, he had experienced something far worse. Something that you knew was far more taxing on his mind. 

He had killed someone for the first time. 

You feared that he was too gentle for killing. Even with the amazing power he wielded. 

Gar - someone who protested eating meat because he hated the idea of an animal being harmed for the sake of his nutrition. Gar - someone who always scooped up spiders and household pests to bring them outside because in his opinion, even the smallest of creatures deserve peace. 

You knew that he was someone who never planned on using his powers to truly harm anyone. 

But the moment the choice had been presented to him - to use his powers to harm someone, or to let you be harmed - it hadn’t really been a choice in his mind at all. 

You had been backed into a corner. You thought you had been clever, breaking out of the room they had locked you in with nothing more than an earring as a lockpick. But without a weapon and without a plan, Gar saw them threatening you and became blind with rage. 

Before he truly knew what was happening, he tasted flesh. 

A very large part of him didn’t regret it. He would choose your life over the life of someone unknown - someone who was going to hurt you - any day of the week. He knew that, if given the same choice, he would do it all over again. 

But there was another part inside of him that kept gnawing with guilt. Another part that said he was wrong, that said there should have been some other way. Something inside of him that said he was now just the villain in someone else’s story - that he wasn’t any better than the people who tried to hurt you in the first place. 

In a lot of ways, that voice said, he was worse than them. 

That voice made it difficult for him to sleep. 

“Can’t sleep?” You hummed out, approaching the couch to come and sit beside him. 

Gar did little more than shrug in response to the question. He didn’t want to admit the weakness aloud. He didn’t want to tell you that he was warring with guilt over something that the others - especially you - didn’t seem to struggle with. 

You both already knew the answer. It had been a hard day for him. Of course sleep was far beyond his grasp. 

In a silent, but comfortable exchange, Gar locked his phone and set it aside, entirely uncaring of saving his progress in the game while you sat down beside him. You slid onto the couch with your butt half nestled on top of his hip and your legs strung across his lap. He reached one arm in front of you, draping it over the thickness of your thighs. In a very natural move, he lazily wrapped his knuckles around your bare skin. 

Neither of you bothered to acknowledge your lack of pants - the fact that you were only wearing underwear with your oversized sleep shirt. You were so used to each other at this point that casual states of undress didn’t really need to be acknowledged. 

He drew mindless patterns into your skin with his thumb and slung his other arm over the back of the couch, bringing you into his lovely natural warmth. You laid your head onto his chest, easily cuddling into his side as you indulged in the familiarity. With his phone turned off, the darkness ruminating through the room was a silent cloak that enveloped the two of you. It made it much easier to fall into that routine of comfort that the two of you always embraced. 

You would explicitly deny that his touch on your bare skin felt like a deadly trail of needles erupting with fire - in the best way possible. Now was not the time for your lust to be breaking through. He was your best friend, and he was clearly in need of comfort. 

“I missed my human heater.” You mumbled out quietly, nuzzling into his side affectionately. 

He let out a hazy breath - some attempt at a laugh in response to your affectionate nickname for him. It was something he knew well about your friendship. You had a constantly chilly body, and he would always be there to warm you up with his blazen hot skin. Just another perk from his mutation - even when he got stuck out in the snow, he never ran cold. 

Now that you had acknowledged that wordless question (the reason you had gotten out of bed, why you couldn’t sleep), it was Gar’s turn to do the same. 

It hung in the air over his head and turned into a stony silence in the quiet, dark room that made each of his breaths seem particularly heavy beside your ear. It was a tension that built upon itself for a few moments. You weren’t going to ask, even though you had a feeling you virtually already knew the answer. You wondered if he was going to come out and admit it before you simply dragged him back to bed and forced him to stay there out of your own selfish need. 

But then he finally broke the silence by saying the words. 

“Whenever I close my eyes… I just keep seeing his face.” 

His words were tentative, a quiet whimper released into the room after being trapped in his chest for too long. Like electricity, shocking and impossible to avoid, you felt his pain surging through you. It caused your throat to clench painfully. You shifted slightly, turning so that you could get a better look at his face. Even in the dimness, the sad glassiness of his eyes practically glowed. 

“Gar,” 

You called out his name, your own voice giving away a depth of weakness that you held for him. Before you could help it, you were reaching up and cradling the side of his face with a cupped palm. Even though your hands were cool, the feeling was intensely comforting to him - just because it was you. He couldn’t help but lean into it, leaning on your hand as though it was the only thing in the world holding him up in that moment. When he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force some of that terrible guilt away, he accidentally forced the tears out and let them leak freely onto your hand. 

“Oh, baby.” You cooed out. 

You were entirely unsure why the nickname popped out. The sound of it on your own lips even surprised you. It was something you had never called him before. But he didn’t stop you, didn’t seem to find it unpleasant, so you continued. 

“You did what you had to do.” You told him with certainty. “You saved my life.” 

That was something infinitely valuable to him. But he wondered if somehow, he had diminished his own value in the process. 

More thick tears slipped down his face and you thumbed them away upon instinct. He swallowed thickly before he spoke again, though this time his words were heavily entrenched in those tears. 

“What if that man had a family?” Gar sniffled quietly. “What if-?” 

“Of course he had a family, Gar.” You quickly cut him off, knowing that his words were quickly spiraling into a deep, putrid guilt. 

That guilt was definitely something you felt the need to save him from. 

Upon hearing your words, he looked at you with sharp hurt in his eyes. Clearly, he had been expecting you to argue against his point, rather than confirm it. But you had a completely different line of thinking in mind.

“Everyone does.” You continued on. “Everyone has people who miss them. But you can’t waste your sympathy on some fictional family you’ve made up for the guy in your head. Having a family and being missed doesn’t give people the right to attack others and get away with it. The possibility of being missed doesn’t mean that people can go through life without seeing the consequences of their actions.” 

Gar let out a quiet huff. It was a sound of defeat - a signal saying that your words had punctured his surface, but hadn’t quite set in yet. 

When he didn’t say anything in reply, you continued. 

“You’re my family.” You told him firmly. 

You used the hold on his cheek to fully turn his head toward yours, and you gently angled into him so that your foreheads were pressed together. Gar closed his eyes and basked in the soothing feeling as you continued talking. 

“And I’m yours. And I really, truly don’t care about who lives or dies outside of us. I don’t care what happens as long as we’re safe. And we’re together.” 

You wanted to add on a verbal exception for the others - for Rachel, and Dick, and Kory, and likely Rachel’s mom just for her sake. An exception for the people who had quickly also become your family in the short time since you had met them. But you had a feeling that Gar knew about this exception in your mind without you having to voice it. 

Gar swallowed hard again, and this time you felt it bob harshly through him while pressed so closely together. You felt him let out a harsh breath before he spoke again. 

“I guess… I guess I’m just worried about what you think of me now.” He spoke the words so quietly, as if his fear even crept into voicing this. “I don’t want my favorite person in the world to be afraid of me. Or… to think I’m a bad person.” 

“I’m not afraid of you.” You quickly argued the point, a slight laughter on your lips at the mere thought of it - at the mention of being afraid of someone like him. 

Yes, he could turn into a giant green tiger, and yes, seeing him use that power to its full extent for the first time had been… jarring. But you would never be afraid of someone who cried during Pixar movies and said it was ‘inhumane’ to kill the animals in Minecraft for food. 

“I could never be afraid of you, Gar.” You easily added on. “You’re not a bad person. You’re such a good person. You’re so good. You’re such a good boy.” 

Those words struck a cord deep within his soul, and a whimper escaped his lips before he could stop it. 

“Say that again.” He told you, so pitifully that it almost sounded like begging. “Please?” 

“You’re such a good boy.” You repeated yourself, running your thumb along the soft skin of his cheek once again. “You’re a good boy, Gar.” 

In a moment, the air shifted. 

The magnetism between the two of you came to a fierce head, and the desperation, the vulnerability that the day’s events had brought forward morphed itself from pain and sadness into something the two of you knew well in the presence of each other - pure wanting. But this time, both of you were exhausted and completely lacking the energy to have any self control to hold it back. 

“Y/N-” 

He barely got out a whimper of your name before you pressed forward that extra inch, stealing his breath as you pressed your lips to his. It was a perfect moment - a beautiful culmination of everything you had ever wanted since meeting him. You definitely weren’t going to waste it. 

He moaned into the kiss and you echoed it back, gulping in breaths through your nose so you wouldn’t have to pull away from the soft cushion of his lips, not even for a moment. When he reached for a greedy grip on the back of your head, filthy and wanting, gently nibbling on your bottom lip - your instincts took over. You blindly swung a leg out, climbing over his waist, and he let out a sharp hiss at the feeling of your weight being planted in his lap. You were beautiful and whole as you sat down on top of him, a perfect reminder that this wasn’t just a dream as his cock quickly swelled to life under the heat of your core where it brushed against his borrowed pants. 

“Please-” He whimpered into your mouth, barely able to get the word out before you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, making him moan out shakily in the most beautiful way. 

You planted your hands on his shoulders, easily taking control of the situation - not that he cared. He felt like he belonged under your controlling grip, under the pleasant weight of your body as his hard cock throbbed underneath your perfect weight. In a blur of heady kisses, swapping breath with the only man you had ever wanted like this, you got your underwear off and got his pants around his ankles. He shoved your shirt up over your breasts to possessively latch onto one of them with his mouth as you reached down and lined up his pulsing cock with your wet, wanting cunt. 

“Oh-” 

He let out another beautifully pathetic whimper as you sunk down onto him in one smooth movement. Your tight, wet heat quickly surrounded him and made his head spin. You felt so full that it almost choked you, but the hot pangs of electricity that shot up through your pussy easily spurred you on. You wasted no time before you began a brutal pace, bouncing on his lap as if he was nothing more than a toy for your own pleasure. The slap of skin on skin was irritably loud in the otherwise silent room, accompanied only by Gar’s harsh, animalistic pants and your choked-off moans as you struggled to comprehend the fullness of his nearly overwhelming cock. 

You both needed it. You needed the intense sting of pleasure to push out the worries of the day. 

With Gar’s hands gripping at your waist as if you might slip away at any moment and his face buried in your breasts, you almost didn’t hear the quiet murmur of his request when he managed to get the words out beyond that blinding pleasure. 

“Say it again,” He choked out past his harsh breaths. “Please!” 

It took your cock-drunk brain a moment to comprehend it, but when the gears fully churned, you instantly knew what he meant. 

“You’re a good boy,” 

You moaned out, reaching a hand up to pet through his hair. You took a fierce grip on those green locks, never once faltering in the harsh, unforgiving rhythm of your hips as you continued to piston yourself up and down on his cock. 

“You’re a good boy, Gar.” 

“Oh - fuck!” Gar grunted into your chest. 

At the sound of your voice saying this, declaring that he was a good boy - he abruptly came inside you.

[tenpintsofsundrop]

Shared Trauma

Sub!Gar Logan x Dom!Fem!Reader Smut Blurb

Based on this request from @danversxwasabi.

Concept: Gar had a very hard day. You know you can't take away the pain, so you try your best to distract him from it instead.

Word Count: 3,600

Titans Masterlist | AO3 Link

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List of detailed warnings and author's notes below the cut.

Warnings: some emotional angst, mentions of trauma/PTSD - Gar kills someone for the first time and is very upset about it (as in the canon), friends to lovers, takes place during Season 1 Episode 7 (“Asylum”), descriptions of canon level violence, this is a smut fic, the reader character is implied to be fat, the reader character uses she/her pronouns and has a vagina, this isn’t a hard sub/dom relationship but there is sub/dom undertones, Gar is more submissive and the reader is more dominant, the reader calls Gar ‘good boy’ and he really likes it, tiddy sucking, p in v sex, unprotected sex, the reader rides Gar, creampie, quick/desperate sex. I believe that’s everything. Most of the focus here is on the emotional side of things and not the smut so if you wanna see more PWP, definitely let me know.

A/N: fic is titled after a Pierce The Veil song because I have been obsessed with the new album, and I think it really fits here. Having a trauma with someone, but it just draws you closer together and makes you seek comfort in them. I did consider making up a mission that wasn't in the canon for this, but I am always drawn to how sad, wet, and pathetic he is after killing the scientist, especially if we're doing sub!Gar - he seems especially subby and in need of comfort.

...

When you woke up alone, you weren’t entirely surprised. 

Of course you missed Gar’s presence beside you in bed. But you hadn’t exactly expected him to be sleeping peacefully after the day the two of you had. 

You and Gar were always the type of best friends to share a bed. Both of you sought the kind of comfort that could only come from cuddling close to the warm body of a safe person. Most often, you could only fall asleep beside each other. 

It had been that way since he had first been taken in by Doctor Caulder and he had come to you for comfort after he had woken up sorely missing his parents. On that first night, you had fallen asleep cradling him, and pretty much every night since then, the two of you shared a bed without question. 

The two of you were just intensely affectionate people, and you saw nothing wrong with expressing your friendship through those simple touches. It was just friendly, after all. 

The two of you always hugged each other tight and held hands while walking in public. There were many times when Gar put his arm around you or kissed you on the forehead, or times when you kissed him on the cheek. You weren’t shy about expressing your very platonic love for your best friend (at least, that’s what you had to tell yourself). 

The two of you weren’t romantically involved - you were just very close best friends. 

No matter what others thought when they looked at you, having those stereotypes in their minds about a guy and girl not being able to be ‘just friends’. Even if you wanted to play into that stereotype so badly with him - even if you wanted all of those people to be right. You would never risk ruining your friendship with him just because of some annoying crush. You were very good at keeping all of your stupid feelings trapped inside of your chest. 

Especially on days like this. When life got hardest, he needed you to be there more as a friend than anything else. And you needed him too. 

It was one of the reasons that he had gotten into bed with you that night, despite the fact that he scoffed at the very mention of trying to sleep. He wanted to be there for you. So you really weren’t surprised when you woke up and the bed was cold, void of his presence. Because of course, he couldn’t sleep. 

It had been a long, hectic, shitty day. 

After everything that had happened, you weren’t even really ‘sleeping’ yourself. 

You were drifting on the edge of consciousness, so exhausted from the day that your body was trying to forcibly knock you out. Between Kory and Dick screwing loudly on one side and Rachel and her birth mother chattering brightly and even crying on the other side, you had been having a very hard time falling asleep. That, and the horrors of the day still flashing through your mind. It made for a deadly cocktail that kept you awake. If not for the pure exhaustion of day’s events weighing you down - then you probably wouldn’t have closed your eyes at all. 

When you came back into a hard consciousness this time, though, you missed the feeling of Gar’s arm around your waist. You instantly missed the feeling of his pleasant warmth at your back - cradling you, making you feel safe. 

Before you even had your fully eyes open, you were out of bed yourself. It was almost an instinct, being so entirely drawn to him. You wandered out to the larger living space of the very expensive condo ‘safehouse’ with your socked feet on the cold floor. You clutched at your own arms under the loose sleeves of your oversized sleep shirt as goosebumps formed on your skin. 

You wondered in the back of your mind what the weather was like outside and if Dick had turned on the heat before going to bed. Then you had to wonder if adjusting the thermostat was even a concern in anyone’s mind after such a long day. It was probably only on your mind now that you were missing your human heater. 

You found Gar sitting on the couch. 

He had his oversized green headphones on, his phone screen providing the only real light in the room - aside from the everpresent glow of the city that leaked in from the tall glass panels that could be called walls in the ultra modern house. He was holding the screen inches away from his face as he slumped back against the unused couch. 

He was likely making an imprint of himself that would be the only ‘lived in’ essence of the overwhelming cold, expensive atmosphere of the place. From the sideways tilt of the screen and the way his thumbs were moving, you easily guessed that he was playing some kind of game. Something to distract his mind from the day’s events still playing there on repeat like a bad movie. 

He was wearing a pair of sweatpants that Dick had given him, dug out of a drawer of clothing that was apparently always kept in the place in case a need for it should come up. Just something else the ‘safehouse’ stocked, like food, medical supplies, and monetary currency from all different countries (because Bruce was rich and paranoid enough to be prepared for ‘any scenario’). 

Gar had paired the pants with one of your tee shirts. 

Something that was slightly big on him even with his natural muscle mass filling it out, bright tie-dye and worn-in cotton. It was purely you. Having the fabric draped over his body did make him feel at least somewhat at ease because it was soaked in your natural smell. It made him feel close to you even when he had gotten out of bed. 

He hadn’t wanted to bother you with his tossing and turning or the bright glowing light of his phone screen when he knew he wouldn’t be able to sleep properly. 

He felt your presence in the room, but he didn’t look up until you crept further toward him, steering into his hazy peripheral view. He shrugged off the headphones as he looked up, locking eyes with you over the top of his phone. Your heart ached as you saw that expression so well illuminated by the sharp white light from the screen. He had the face of a kicked puppy, big wide eyes staring you down. Especially because he was making a clear effort not to let his mouth curl into a deep whimpering frown. 

You knew that the events of the day had been particularly hard on him. 

Of course, there was the obvious. The mental exhaustion and fear of being kidnapped and held hostage. The pulsating adrenaline of wondering if he was going to come out alive, on top of the worry he felt for you, Rachel, Dick, and Kory. The intense physical torture he had suffered at the hands of ‘scientists’ controlled by a doomsday cult. 

But on top of all of it, he had experienced something far worse. Something that you knew was far more taxing on his mind. 

He had killed someone for the first time. 

You feared that he was too gentle for killing. Even with the amazing power he wielded. 

Gar - someone who protested eating meat because he hated the idea of an animal being harmed for the sake of his nutrition. Gar - someone who always scooped up spiders and household pests to bring them outside because in his opinion, even the smallest of creatures deserve peace. 

You knew that he was someone who never planned on using his powers to truly harm anyone. 

But the moment the choice had been presented to him - to use his powers to harm someone, or to let you be harmed - it hadn’t really been a choice in his mind at all. 

You had been backed into a corner. You thought you had been clever, breaking out of the room they had locked you in with nothing more than an earring as a lockpick. But without a weapon and without a plan, Gar saw them threatening you and became blind with rage. 

Before he truly knew what was happening, he tasted flesh. 

A very large part of him didn’t regret it. He would choose your life over the life of someone unknown - someone who was going to hurt you - any day of the week. He knew that, if given the same choice, he would do it all over again. 

But there was another part inside of him that kept gnawing with guilt. Another part that said he was wrong, that said there should have been some other way. Something inside of him that said he was now just the villain in someone else’s story - that he wasn’t any better than the people who tried to hurt you in the first place. 

In a lot of ways, that voice said, he was worse than them. 

That voice made it difficult for him to sleep. 

“Can’t sleep?” You hummed out, approaching the couch to come and sit beside him. 

Gar did little more than shrug in response to the question. He didn’t want to admit the weakness aloud. He didn’t want to tell you that he was warring with guilt over something that the others - especially you - didn’t seem to struggle with. 

You both already knew the answer. It had been a hard day for him. Of course sleep was far beyond his grasp. 

In a silent, but comfortable exchange, Gar locked his phone and set it aside, entirely uncaring of saving his progress in the game while you sat down beside him. You slid onto the couch with your butt half nestled on top of his hip and your legs strung across his lap. He reached one arm in front of you, draping it over the thickness of your thighs. In a very natural move, he lazily wrapped his knuckles around your bare skin. 

Neither of you bothered to acknowledge your lack of pants - the fact that you were only wearing underwear with your oversized sleep shirt. You were so used to each other at this point that casual states of undress didn’t really need to be acknowledged. 

He drew mindless patterns into your skin with his thumb and slung his other arm over the back of the couch, bringing you into his lovely natural warmth. You laid your head onto his chest, easily cuddling into his side as you indulged in the familiarity. With his phone turned off, the darkness ruminating through the room was a silent cloak that enveloped the two of you. It made it much easier to fall into that routine of comfort that the two of you always embraced. 

You would explicitly deny that his touch on your bare skin felt like a deadly trail of needles erupting with fire - in the best way possible. Now was not the time for your lust to be breaking through. He was your best friend, and he was clearly in need of comfort. 

“I missed my human heater.” You mumbled out quietly, nuzzling into his side affectionately. 

He let out a hazy breath - some attempt at a laugh in response to your affectionate nickname for him. It was something he knew well about your friendship. You had a constantly chilly body, and he would always be there to warm you up with his blazen hot skin. Just another perk from his mutation - even when he got stuck out in the snow, he never ran cold. 

Now that you had acknowledged that wordless question (the reason you had gotten out of bed, why you couldn’t sleep), it was Gar’s turn to do the same. 

It hung in the air over his head and turned into a stony silence in the quiet, dark room that made each of his breaths seem particularly heavy beside your ear. It was a tension that built upon itself for a few moments. You weren’t going to ask, even though you had a feeling you virtually already knew the answer. You wondered if he was going to come out and admit it before you simply dragged him back to bed and forced him to stay there out of your own selfish need. 

But then he finally broke the silence by saying the words. 

“Whenever I close my eyes… I just keep seeing his face.” 

His words were tentative, a quiet whimper released into the room after being trapped in his chest for too long. Like electricity, shocking and impossible to avoid, you felt his pain surging through you. It caused your throat to clench painfully. You shifted slightly, turning so that you could get a better look at his face. Even in the dimness, the sad glassiness of his eyes practically glowed. 

“Gar,” 

You called out his name, your own voice giving away a depth of weakness that you held for him. Before you could help it, you were reaching up and cradling the side of his face with a cupped palm. Even though your hands were cool, the feeling was intensely comforting to him - just because it was you. He couldn’t help but lean into it, leaning on your hand as though it was the only thing in the world holding him up in that moment. When he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to force some of that terrible guilt away, he accidentally forced the tears out and let them leak freely onto your hand. 

“Oh, baby.” You cooed out. 

You were entirely unsure why the nickname popped out. The sound of it on your own lips even surprised you. It was something you had never called him before. But he didn’t stop you, didn’t seem to find it unpleasant, so you continued. 

“You did what you had to do.” You told him with certainty. “You saved my life.” 

That was something infinitely valuable to him. But he wondered if somehow, he had diminished his own value in the process. 

More thick tears slipped down his face and you thumbed them away upon instinct. He swallowed thickly before he spoke again, though this time his words were heavily entrenched in those tears. 

“What if that man had a family?” Gar sniffled quietly. “What if-?” 

“Of course he had a family, Gar.” You quickly cut him off, knowing that his words were quickly spiraling into a deep, putrid guilt. 

That guilt was definitely something you felt the need to save him from. 

Upon hearing your words, he looked at you with sharp hurt in his eyes. Clearly, he had been expecting you to argue against his point, rather than confirm it. But you had a completely different line of thinking in mind.

“Everyone does.” You continued on. “Everyone has people who miss them. But you can’t waste your sympathy on some fictional family you’ve made up for the guy in your head. Having a family and being missed doesn’t give people the right to attack others and get away with it. The possibility of being missed doesn’t mean that people can go through life without seeing the consequences of their actions.” 

Gar let out a quiet huff. It was a sound of defeat - a signal saying that your words had punctured his surface, but hadn’t quite set in yet. 

When he didn’t say anything in reply, you continued. 

“You’re my family.” You told him firmly. 

You used the hold on his cheek to fully turn his head toward yours, and you gently angled into him so that your foreheads were pressed together. Gar closed his eyes and basked in the soothing feeling as you continued talking. 

“And I’m yours. And I really, truly don’t care about who lives or dies outside of us. I don’t care what happens as long as we’re safe. And we’re together.” 

You wanted to add on a verbal exception for the others - for Rachel, and Dick, and Kory, and likely Rachel’s mom just for her sake. An exception for the people who had quickly also become your family in the short time since you had met them. But you had a feeling that Gar knew about this exception in your mind without you having to voice it. 

Gar swallowed hard again, and this time you felt it bob harshly through him while pressed so closely together. You felt him let out a harsh breath before he spoke again. 

“I guess… I guess I’m just worried about what you think of me now.” He spoke the words so quietly, as if his fear even crept into voicing this. “I don’t want my favorite person in the world to be afraid of me. Or... to think I’m a bad person.” 

“I’m not afraid of you.” You quickly argued the point, a slight laughter on your lips at the mere thought of it - at the mention of being afraid of someone like him. 

Yes, he could turn into a giant green tiger, and yes, seeing him use that power to its full extent for the first time had been… jarring. But you would never be afraid of someone who cried during Pixar movies and said it was ‘inhumane’ to kill the animals in Minecraft for food. 

“I could never be afraid of you, Gar.” You easily added on. “You’re not a bad person. You’re such a good person. You’re so good. You’re such a good boy.” 

Those words struck a cord deep within his soul, and a whimper escaped his lips before he could stop it. 

“Say that again.” He told you, so pitifully that it almost sounded like begging. “Please?” 

“You’re such a good boy.” You repeated yourself, running your thumb along the soft skin of his cheek once again. “You’re a good boy, Gar.” 

In a moment, the air shifted. 

The magnetism between the two of you came to a fierce head, and the desperation, the vulnerability that the day’s events had brought forward morphed itself from pain and sadness into something the two of you knew well in the presence of each other - pure wanting. But this time, both of you were exhausted and completely lacking the energy to have any self control to hold it back. 

“Y/N-” 

He barely got out a whimper of your name before you pressed forward that extra inch, stealing his breath as you pressed your lips to his. It was a perfect moment - a beautiful culmination of everything you had ever wanted since meeting him. You definitely weren’t going to waste it. 

He moaned into the kiss and you echoed it back, gulping in breaths through your nose so you wouldn’t have to pull away from the soft cushion of his lips, not even for a moment. When he reached for a greedy grip on the back of your head, filthy and wanting, gently nibbling on your bottom lip - your instincts took over. You blindly swung a leg out, climbing over his waist, and he let out a sharp hiss at the feeling of your weight being planted in his lap. You were beautiful and whole as you sat down on top of him, a perfect reminder that this wasn’t just a dream as his cock quickly swelled to life under the heat of your core where it brushed against his borrowed pants. 

“Please-” He whimpered into your mouth, barely able to get the word out before you sucked his bottom lip into your mouth, making him moan out shakily in the most beautiful way. 

You planted your hands on his shoulders, easily taking control of the situation - not that he cared. He felt like he belonged under your controlling grip, under the pleasant weight of your body as his hard cock throbbed underneath your perfect weight. In a blur of heady kisses, swapping breath with the only man you had ever wanted like this, you got your underwear off and got his pants around his ankles. He shoved your shirt up over your breasts to possessively latch onto one of them with his mouth as you reached down and lined up his pulsing cock with your wet, wanting cunt. 

“Oh-” 

He let out another beautifully pathetic whimper as you sunk down onto him in one smooth movement. Your tight, wet heat quickly surrounded him and made his head spin. You felt so full that it almost choked you, but the hot pangs of electricity that shot up through your pussy easily spurred you on. You wasted no time before you began a brutal pace, bouncing on his lap as if he was nothing more than a toy for your own pleasure. The slap of skin on skin was irritably loud in the otherwise silent room, accompanied only by Gar’s harsh, animalistic pants and your choked-off moans as you struggled to comprehend the fullness of his nearly overwhelming cock. 

You both needed it. You needed the intense sting of pleasure to push out the worries of the day. 

With Gar’s hands gripping at your waist as if you might slip away at any moment and his face buried in your breasts, you almost didn’t hear the quiet murmur of his request when he managed to get the words out beyond that blinding pleasure. 

“Say it again,” He choked out past his harsh breaths. “Please!” 

It took your cock-drunk brain a moment to comprehend it, but when the gears fully churned, you instantly knew what he meant. 

“You’re a good boy,” 

You moaned out, reaching a hand up to pet through his hair. You took a fierce grip on those green locks, never once faltering in the harsh, unforgiving rhythm of your hips as you continued to piston yourself up and down on his cock. 

“You’re a good boy, Gar.” 

“Oh - fuck!” Gar grunted into your chest. 

At the sound of your voice saying this, declaring that he was a good boy - he abruptly came inside you.

[marvelgurl789fanfics]

Remy Lebeau (Gambit) x Child OC

(Remy Lebeau (Gambit) x Rogue)

~Taken Part 5 to Safe~

New Normal (Part 4)

Warning: none

(Not the best at grammar or punctuation)

Summary: A fun day at the mall with Gambit and Fiona turns into a nightmare for Gambit.

Masterlist

The poll for Fiona’s powers has concluded. Thank you all for voting.

~~~~~

Fiona ran into the kitchen still in her pajamas with Gambit close behind her. “Uncle Scott!” Fiona said a bit too loudly hugging Scott’s leg while he was pouring himself some coffee. “Good morning to you too” Scott greeted Fiona with a kind but tired smile. “Let’s let Uncle Scott wake up a bit more before you attack him Mon petit” Gambit chuckled grabbed a mug for coffee himself. Fiona took to calling all the other x men uncle or aunt with the exception of Jubilee who was Big Sissy, Professor Xavier who became Grandpa not that the professor minded the new title, and of course Gambit who remained Papa. Fiona released Scott to cling to Gambit’s leg looking up at him with a pout, “don’t give Père that look, he’s gonna make breakfast” Gambit said earning a giggle from the girl. “Bacon” Fiona announced, “remind père to thank uncle Logan for showing you bacon” Gambit joked knowing it was her new favorite food even outside of breakfast.

A rare time Logan was actually cooking for everyone but decided to make eggs and bacon with toast. Fiona was skeptical of the meat on her plate a first but quickly became addicted finishing her two piece on her plate and Gambit letting her have two more. Fiona reached for the plate of bacon in the middle of the breakfast table before Gambit stopped her. “Gambit knows you like it Mon petit but no more for right now eat your eggs” Gambit said hating to tell her no but worried too much would upset her stomach with the greasiness. With a pout Fiona ate her eggs but her eyes lit up when Logan snuck one more piece of bacon on her plate, Gambit lightly glared at Logan who just had a smug grin and shrugged.

Gambit made breakfast while Fiona greeted everyone who enter the kitchen for breakfast. Soon breakfast was done and everything was sitting eating discussing their plans for the day, while Gambit kept a close eye on Fiona’s bacon intake. “I heard there is a new clothing store opening at the mall today, it’s some popular boutique from LA” Jubilee shared, “sounds fancy” Rogue interest peaked. “Come with me” Jubilee said with a smile, “If you insist” Rogue agreed. “Cher if it’s not too much trouble could you pick up more cards for Gambit, he’s down to his final deck” Gambit asked, “sure thing sugar, but your getting uno cards” Rogue joked getting a fake pout from Gambit. “Why don’t you and Fiona come too it will be fun” Jubilee asked but received a slightly worried look from Gambit and Rogue before realization dawned on her. People could easily tell Fiona’s a mutant.

“I think that’s a great idea” the professor spoke up over the silence that swept over to table, earning a nervous look from most of the x men. “The professor right, she can’t just stay hidden in the mansion forever. There’s a car seat in the garage still that adjusts for her age” Jean agreed with a bit of sadness in her eyes at the thought of her son but kept the smile on her face. “You really think I’d be ok?” Gambit asked the professor while he looked at his little girl too busy eating her food to pay attention to the conversation. “I can’t promise you that Gambit, but Fiona’s still a child and needs to learn to be around others besides us. If anything were to happen she has you, Rogue, and Jubilees there with her. Though she is your daughter now, the choice is ultimately your” the Professor answered with a supportive smile. “What do you think Cher?” Gambit asked his other half, “We could give it a try, but we should have a talk with her first about how some people are” Rogue said trying to reassure him.

After breakfast Gambit with the help of Rogue they tried to explain to Fiona about being a mutant and how some people view them. “You understand sugar?” Rogue asked the child sitting between her and Remy on the couch in the rec room, Fiona nodded her head in understanding. “Any questions?” Gambit asked placing his hand on her head in a comforting manner, “why they hate us?” Fiona asked looking to the two adults for an answer but getting sad smiles. “Père don’t know Mon petit, but I love you so much” Gambit said placing a kiss to her head. “Do you want to go on an outing with us and Jubilee? It will be fun.” Rogue asked the girl trying to convince her. A nod of her head Fiona agreed. “Then let’s get you dressed while your papa set up a car seat for you” Rogue said picking up Fiona carefully.

*****

Fiona’s was jumping around dancing in the entrance way of the X mansion, “Outing, Outing” she chanted excitedly in blue jeans and princess Tiana T-shirt. Tiana quickly became Fiona’s favorite princess once Gambit mentioned he was From New Orleans too. Jubilee laughed at Fiona cute excitement in her signature pink shirt and yellow jacket, while Rogue doubled checked she was covered with her tights and long sleeved dark pink dress and gloves. “Gambit got the car seat set up” Gambit said walking in the mansion having just having installed a car seat for Fiona in the back seat of Rogue’s red convertible. “Looks like we can head out now, took you long enough Cajun” Rogue teased him while grabbing her purse. “Didn’t mean to keep you waiting Cher” Gambit laughed and grabbed Fiona’s small purple hoodie.

“Mon petit calm down, put on your hoodie it’s chilly out there” Gambit smiled kneeling down to Fiona’s height, with some struggling at first Gambit was able to help Fiona put on her hoodie. “You remember what we talked about?” Gambit tone turning to a more serious putting Fiona’s hood up covering most of her face. Fiona nodded her head “You are beautiful Mon petit just some people can’t appreciate that” Gambit said assuringly before standing and putting on the sunglasses that Rogue handed him to cover his eyes. The group head out the door to the car, after getting Fiona bucked up Gambit joined Rogue up Front in the passenger seat while Jubilee sat by Fiona.

The Drive wasn’t too bad Fiona was looking around amazing by everything they drove. Rogue found a decent spot to park once at the mall, “Want to go with Père or with Rogue and Jubilee” Gambit asked Fiona while helping her out of the car. “Papa” Fiona answered, “ok, stay close to père” Gambit said getting a nod from her. “Meet up at the food court at noon?” Jubilee asked looking at her watch reading 9:30, “works for Gambit” Gambit agreed. “Let’s get going before this new boutique is picked over and all the good stuffs is gone” Rogue said leading Jubilee to their destination. “Père got to pick up more cards then we can look around” Gambit said picking up Fiona walking to the casino supply store he knows has the best price for playing cards, plus the owner doesn’t seem to have a problem with mutants learning that after his sunglasses fell off before in the store.

“Remy should have known you’d be in before too long” The old man sitting behind the counter greeted, “bonjour Frank” Gambit greeted, “who’s this little one, I didn’t know you had a kid” Frank asked giving Fiona a kind wave. Fiona hid herself in the crook of Gambit’s neck earning a light laugh from him. “this is Fiona, still kind of a new thing” Gambit introduced her. “Ah adoption, my son and his wife just adopted a little boy themselves” Frank smiled. “Fiona this is a Friend of Père, this is Frank” Gambit said trying to help her not be so shy, Fiona lifted her head looking at the older man behind to counter but received a surprise look from the man before the smile returned. “It’s very nice to meet you Fiona” Frank said kindly. “Can you grab a few pack of cards for père?” Gambit said setting Fiona down and pointing to a low shelf still in his view, getting a nod and Fiona went on her mission.

“Her parents gave her up to that school?” Frank asked in a whisper, “Non, found the sweet girl in a lab locked in a cage” Gambit said with sadness in his voice. “How can anyone do that to a child?” Frank said and shook his head. “Papa” Fiona said walking back two packs of cards one in each hand holding them up to Gambit, “Merci Mon petit” Gambit smiled taking the packs of cards and placing them on the counter then grabbing 6 more packs himself and checking out tucking the packs away in the inner pockets on his jacket. “It was good to see you again Remy stay safe would hate to lose my best customer, and it was lovely to meet you Fiona” Frank said, “Remy will try” Gambit said while Fiona shyly waved bye.

Fiona held Gambit’s hand even though he had to lean down a bit so she could as they walk around the mall. Gambit let Fiona pull him around letting her explore, but stopped when they reached a carousel Fiona looking at with interest. “What’s that?” Fiona asked eyes sparkling, “it’s a carousel Mon petit, want to go on it?” Gambit asked receiving an eager nod. Walking over to the line of other parents waiting with their children. Soon the line started moving letting the new round of people on board, paying the worker the ride fee once reaching the entrance. Fiona spotted a carousel horse with a horn and pointing out the unicorn to Gambit, “you want to ride this one?” Gambit asked her getting an excited nod he lifted her up and onto the unicorn keeping his hand placed on her back to keep her steady.

The ride started shortly once the last child was seated, Gambit never understood the fun in carousel but knew most children found them fun. Fiona seemed very happy once the ride started to move giggle at the unicorn’s up and down movement, but the carousel came to an abrupt stop making people lose balance. Fiona almost fell but was caught by Gambit but he ended up falling flat on his back taking the impact of the fall keeping Fiona to his chest. It took a few seconds for Gambit to clear his head and register the panic screams around them, standing keeping Fiona safely in his arms he seen a Rogue and Jubilee fighting a Sentinel.

Running over to the ride operator booth that was now empty he sat Fiona down, “stay right here” Gambit said in a strict tone that Fiona never heard before she did as told and sat in the corner of the booth hidden. Gambit joined his Teammates in the fight throwing charged card at the Sentinel, “surrender Mutants” the robot announced knocking Rogue from the sky causing her to hit the ground before Gambit could catch her. The sentinel picked up a chunk of wall it had broken and thrown it Jubilee’s direction, Gambit was able to push her out of the way but ended getting hit with the rubble making everything go black.

Waking to being shook awake by Wolverine “Cajun wake up” Wolverine said as Gambit jumped up, looking around confused for a second before the previous event came to him mind. “Where the sentinel?” Gambit asked, “got away” Wolverine said with an aggressive growl in his voice. “Fiona safe?” Gambit asked getting to his feet. Wolverine just looked away from him not answering the question, “where’s Fiona?” Gambit asked again more firmly. “It got her” Cyclops said with a sadden sigh. Gambit froze up completely as if the world stopped, a few months ago before he met Fiona he would have never fathomed this fear, worry and anger that over took him making him feel sick. The pure horror on Gambit face was clear to everyone, “we’ll find her sugar” Rogue said hugged him leaning her head on his shoulder trying to give him comfort despite her own grief. “The Professor already looking through Cerebro, just a matter of time” Jean added placing a comforting hand on his back.

~~~~~

Any suggestions or ideas are welcome. Got other parts planned check out Masterlist.

I don’t know French, all French is from google translate:

Cher (dear)

Mon petit (my little one)

Père (dad/ father)

Bonjour (hello)

Non (no)

Merci (thank you)

Part 6

Coming soon

[tenpintsof-sundrop]

I’ll leave whether or not this is a request up to you. I just want to share the idea of Christmas season with JayGar. Making cookies with them, putting together a gingerbread house too. Kissing under mistletoe. Decorating the tree, just the place in general. Maybe it snows. Gar insists on making snow people and there’s a snowball fight. Watching them roll around in the snow, play-fighting. Going inside after and making hot cocoa. It’d be so sweet, cozy, fun, and loving and I’m soft for it right now. -Rotten Anon

okay, this makes me feral and foaming at the mouth. I am so deeply upset that Jason was not at the Titans Christmas in Season 4 because it's supposed to take place in Gotham at Wayne Manor if I'm correct? and like I understand that Jason was still kind of on the outs with the Titans, but Gar would have wanted him there, and Jason coming to Christmas dinner or something would have been a great step in mending the relationships. grrr

anyway! Christmas with JayGar. omg. consider this my headcanons post because I can't help myself

Christmas With Jason Todd and Gar Logan

(These headcanons operate under the idea that they are in a poly relationship with the reader, or they are flirtatious/sexual and forming that kind of poly relationship.) (This also kind of accidentally turned into Christmas headcanons about the Titans in general.) (Also, this is mostly fluff and there is some mild sexual themes, because I can't help myself when it comes to JayGar.)

So, first of all, I definitely feel like Christmas at Titans Tower would be so different from a family Christmas - like, spending Christmas with Jason and Gar once the three of you have moved out to start a family and 'settle down' or when everyone has come home to a place like Wayne Manor for a traditional family Christmas. Living with Jason and Gar in your own place would be a lot more like you mentioned, but I am thinking about more of the S2 era (I love that era so much.) But I could definitely make another post about like - post No Place Like Home Christmas with JayGar.

Christmas at Titans Tower - I am imagining a situation where they lived at the Tower for longer before Rose showed up (and then Deathstroke tried to kill everyone) and they had Christmas during that time. OR during the time they continued living at the Tower before Gotham, they had Christmas (and Jason is still there because I said so). It would be wonderful chaos.

Dick would not even have the idea to decorate or really celebrate Christmas in any way until Rachel or Gar bring it up. The original Titans did celebrate Christmas, but it was 90% Dawn's doing. (In the show, we saw how she turned Hank's sad, single guy apartment into a really femme, well decorated place. And it is of my opinion that she planned Garth's birthday party by herself. She would demand Christmas decorations.) And because Dawn wanted extensive Christmas decorations, Dick funded it (with his daddy's credit card) because he would do anything to please her.

So back then, the original Titans had a huge, lavish Christmas tree, they had all kinds of extensive decorations for the main lounge area - Dawn bought everyone ugly Christmas sweaters and Christmas pajamas and made everybody wear them. And they definitely did a Secret Santa where everyone picked a name and only bought one gift, but it was soooo easy to tell who bought which gift.

So when Rachel starts asking Dick 'what are we gonna do for Christmas?' - Dick's first thought is: nothing. Kory and Conner are curious about what Christmas is - it's actually funny trying to explain to them how a holiday that is technically rooted in religion is actually practised by a lot of non-religious people, and most of the traditions have nothing to do with Christianity.

Gar is excited to do something for Christmas. When he was living at Caulder House, they used to have a big family Christmas - mostly because nobody left the house and it was something to do. His parents weren't super religious when he was growing up, so he never had super traditional Christmas celebrations when he was living on the nature reserve - Rita and the others were the first ones to introduce him to a lot of Christmas elements and classic Christmas films, and he has loved it ever since.

Gar loves the idea of a time when you give to others selflessly and when simply being kind is a unique magic of its own. So of course he's eager to celebrate Christmas with the Titans.

You're kind of indifferent to it all - you can get into Christmas, but you can go without it.

And on the other hand, Jason hates Christmas.

Yeah - genuinely, it's of my opinion that Jason from Season 1/Season 2 (and probably Season 3) would fucking despise the concept of Christmas. (An evolved, post No Place Like Home Jason would love Christmas, but we'll talk about that later.)

So - Jason hates Christmas. And it's one of those things that, much like everything else in his life, can be attributed to his upbringing. Sometimes Rachel makes jokes that Jason blames everything on 'foster kid bullshit' but - it's true. Because everything in his life can be blamed on his shitty childhood. When you grow up poor like he did, there is no Christmas magic. He was the kid in school who was telling everyone else that Santa Claus does not exist, because he was bitter and angry that Santa never brought him any presents, and he realized very early on that it was just a made-up story. So he forced that bitterness about his own situation onto other people.

Did he start liking Christmas after he moved in with Bruce? Fuck no.

Having Christmas with a billionaire only made things more awkward for Jason. Especially because Alfred is the one with Christmas spirit, and not Bruce. Bruce grew up half Catholic and half Jewish due to his parents faith, so before they died, he several years observing Jewish holidays and having a huge blow-out Christmas with a lot of Christmas magic, and after they died - he became stoic.

(Note: I am talking about the Titans version of Bruce here.)

He mostly observes the holidays by silently donating to charity, sometimes going to church to say prayers and reflect, and privately lighting a menorah and saying the prayers that go along with it to honor his parents - something that he has never invited Dick or Jason to participate in. Alfred always makes a big, traditional Christmas dinner and decorates the Manor, and he is the one who prompts the exchange of gifts - and Jason fucking hates this.

Jason doesn't have an income of his own, and he hates shopping for gifts with someone else's credit card, and he always feel awkward as fuck receiving generic, expensive gifts from Bruce (like an Xbox or an iPhone) while giving him something like a tie or cuff links that Alfred picked out - that Bruce knows were bought with his own money, that doesn't even garner much of a react beyond a polite, mandatory 'thank you'. In Jason's opinion, one of the only hell's worst than spending Christmas starving, cold, and penniless is spending it in one of the large, opulent, over-decorated rooms of the Manor sitting with Bruce in stony silence while the man sips tea and makes stiff faces at the gift Jason's gives him.

So Jason doesn't expect Christmas at the Tower to be much different. He's not looking forward to it, and generally, wants to avoid it.

But he has no such luck.

Dick is randomly on the phone with Dawn one night (Dawn and Hank are trying to do the farm thing again - they're not taking care of horses, but they are living out in the country in the middle of nowhere, because they have come to like the seclusion), and he mentions that Rachel brought up Christmas, and this sets off every neuron in Dawn's brain. She asks Dick what he's gonna do for Christmas and he says 'I don't know'. Within hours, Dawn has dragged Hank to a Christmas tree farm, picked out the biggest tree possible, and has it strapped to the top of their truck, driving in to San Francisco.

If Rachel wants Christmas, she's going to get Christmas.

When you get up and find Dawn decorating (she dug out the Titans' old decorations, and Dick and Hank are struggling to get the tree out of the elevator) - you are excited. You rush to get the others out of bed, and immediately - Jason starts complaining. He says Christmas is stupid - he's one of those people who feels the need to point out that Jesus was actually born in the summer, and that it's a holiday 'actually made my companies just to sell you more crap'.

But when Dawn says that she needs help bringing out more of the boxes of decorations and Gar asks Jason to come and help, whipped as he is, Jason sighs and rolls his eyes, and he goes to help.

Decorating is certainly an adventure. Everyone is tripping over each other, Dawn wants the tree moved to different locations in the lounge three different times and it's only on the third try that Dick and Hank remember that Conner has super strength and he should be the one doing most of the heavy lifting.

At one point, you're up on a ladder hanging garlands and you stupidly ask Jason to 'give you a hand' - thinking that he'll hold the other end of the garland while you secure it or that he'll hand you another tack, but instead, he walks up behind you where you're standing on the ladder, very firmly and confidently puts his whole hand on your ass and says 'better?'

Gar makes everyone hot chocolate to help the decorating process along, and Jason says that the holiday is 'slightly less stupid' because he thinks the hot chocolate tastes really good.

Once all the decorations from the boxes have been put up, Rachel gets the idea that everyone should make their own custom ornament to put on the tree, and her and Dawn rush out to buy supplies for this, and while everyone is gathered around the kitchen island participating in this crafting session - it is the most genuine family moment that you have ever felt with the Titans. Everyone decorates a simple, flat piece of wood with glitter or paint to put on the tree - Gar decorated his with a green tiger wearing a Santa hat, and Jason made his a depiction of Santa Claus crashing his slay and dying - which you thought was funny and put on a central position on the three.

Gar even got the idea to put Krypto's paw in paint and stamp an ornament with his paw print so he could have one too.

(Okay, this is getting really long and rambly, so here, some quick fire hcs.)

Once Jason figures out that he can use mistletoe as an excuse to kiss people, he is infuriating about it. He will carry it around and dangle it over your head and Gar's head - you will just sigh and smack him, and Gar will blush so hard. Sometime's Gar will give Jason a kiss on the cheek if no one is looking (usually, Jason will respond to this by dodging and stealing a kiss on Gar's mouth) - and rarely, you will actually give in and kiss Jason on the lips if no one else is around.

At one point, Jason even tapes the mistletoe to his bellybutton as a 'joke' - to make you kiss his cock. (It definitely doesn't work. Ya know.)

Gar loves Christmas carols and Christmas music, and he will always play them and sing them at the top of his lungs - Jason pretends to be annoyed by it, but you have caught him singing along under his breath or mouthing the words, or even dancing a little when he thinks nobody is paying attention. But you know the annoyance is kind of real during the 5th round of Jingle Bell Rock. Gar can't help it though.

Gar is a vegan, and Jason will claim it's because he's bored - but he spends one afternoon cooking up vegan versions of several Christmas classics, like Christmas sugar cookies, and a full Christmas spread (with substitute meats that you guys both can't decide are creepy or cool) - and when Gar sees everything, he has some tears of joy in his eyes at the pure consideration of it. Turns out, Jason is actually an amazing cook. (Dick and Rachel are particularly surprised by this development.)

One night, the three of you sit down and watch a bunch of Christmas movies together. Jason finds Home Alone to be hilarious because Kevin is so brutal (and naturally, Jason is reminded of himself), and he spends most of the film commenting on how stupid the criminals are. When you watch The Grinch, Gar cries at the scene where the Grinch is bullied in school and you and Jason have to comfort him about it.

At one point, you buy you, Gar, and Jason matching ugly Christmas sweaters and Jason is adamant that he will not wear it. You are disappointed, but you put on yours anyway, and soon you hear some mumbling between Gar and Jason, including a 'please' and some grumbling on Jason's part - they come back twenty minutes later. Jason is wearing his sweater, looking stone-faced and grumpy about it, and Gar is looking entirely pleased with himself. You have no clue if sexual favours were exchanged, but when Gar moves to put a Santa hat on Jason, the effort he makes to fight Gar off about it is so lackluster.

When Dawn takes a picture of the three of you in your sweaters together, Jason flips her off - and it's one of your favourite pictures of all time.

(I could easily go on like this forever, but I'll leave it there for now.)

[orbmanson7]

How can Logan drinking an ever growing amount of wine in the birthday video be interpreted as? What kind of message us viewers (and Thomas since he was interviewing them) are we supposed to receive from that display?

Alcohol, huh? Here's a trigger warning just in case! I'll be talking about alcohol a lot in this.

Alright, so the obvious answer here is that they are playing on the adult comedy trope of someone drinking wine indicating they are stressed but still have some of their dignity left (it's not like they are so desperate, they're drinking straight whiskey or care so little about class that they're downing beers).

Alcohol in media is often used to portray a character using unhealthy coping mechanisms to handle stress. Namely as a way to say, in not so many words, that someone is either trying to forget something that upsets them or that someone is trying to de-stress from their hectic life. This is likely why both Logan and Janus are seen drinking wine, though Logan, as you've noticed, definitely does it a lot more often. Yes, it's played up for comedic effect, but it's still probably meant to show us how stressed he is.

In WTIT, once Logan realizes he will not only have to keep Thomas on task but also have to wrangle in Remus, he purposefully dumps out his coffee and immediately fills a tumbler with wine instead. In the early afternoon, too, no less. Yikes.

I won't get into potential alcoholic behaviors or anything because it's clear this is meant to be a joke above all else, even if it's a joke about someone utilizing an unhealthy coping mechanism. The only thing to really focus on with this is its lack of prevalence among other sides and its recently increased frequency in videos.

Like I mentioned, we've only really seen Janus and Logan purposefully ingest the stuff (sorry, Patton), but I fully believe that Janus drinks wine more for the aesthetics than for its effects. It's a villainous prop, it completes his look - the one he wants others to see. That's why we don't typically see him actually drink the wine when he's shown with it, mostly just holding it in a glass.

For him, it's more about looking like someone who drinks wine than actually wanting/needing to drink it. This is why he likes being seen as the "sassy aunt" like he said in the anniversary video, as the 'wine aunt' is another common trope seen in media. The wine aunt is often characterized as someone who likes to gossip, indulge themselves, and often cares more about how others perceive them and pretending they're unbothered by it than actually doing anything about it. Maybe that says something about Janus, maybe not. ;)

But in Logan's case, things are definitely different. I highly doubt it's about aesthetics for him (well, it is on a meta level for the sake of comedy, but not within the narrative) and it's far more about the wine's function.

Alcohol is known to lower inhibitions. As a depressant, it can heighten emotions (any emotions - happiness, sadness, anger, etc.) and it allows you to make more impulsive decisions that you may have properly thought out and talked yourself out of otherwise - depending on your tolerance level, that is. I don't personally like wine but I know it takes several drinks and shots before I can even feel buzzed, so Logan having increasingly larger containers doesn't have to only exist as a running joke, it can also indicate that he has a very high tolerance level.

That means he has a lot of control over himself and his faculties, and if he would want those inhibitions lowered, it would take A LOT of alcohol to actually have a significant effect on him.

If that was another way of saying he's divulging in something that will get his guard down and possibly let something more emotional take hold, it certainly would be an interesting analogy to use for such a purpose.

But, here's the thing - Logan indulging in drinking wine is a choice. He is choosing to do this, likely knowing full well what alcohol can do to someone's mind (which is why he keeps drinking more and more as time goes on). Comedic bit or not, Logan is either using wine as a unhealthy coping mechanism for stress and it's going to result in lowered inhibitions and impulsive choices that he's determined may be worth the risk, or he's using wine for the express purpose of its ability to lower inhibitions and heighten emotions and doesn't care if it's helping him handle his stress or not.

Either way, it doesn't seem like a smart move to make, at least not in the long-term.

But maybe it's a key to getting things moving narratively, who knows?

[notsogreatpotoo]

you should totally use this ask as an excuse to tell us anything you want about any of your ocs. specific physical details, unrevealed background lore, how they'd interact with my sonas/other people, etc. anything really. go hog wild

eeeeeeee!!!!

okay so

I just finished Written In The Sand and put up chapter one of Recall (the sequel) (links in masterpost connected to pinned, spoilers ahead) so I’m going to talk about Alder :]

Alder has a complicated relationship with violence and death because not only is he the winner of the hunger games, but he also is pretty used to making sacrifices for others. He scars his face on purpose (partially to give his tributes a chance, partially because he doesn’t associate it with harm (based on cultural scarification, it’s difficult to say it’s more harmful than say, a tattoo or something and it helps him feel like he has more autonomy so in the end I doubt I would say it’s violent or in the realm of self-harm)), he kills to protect other people, he ends up doing mercy kills. Basically he believes that it would be better for him to take on the guilt than to burden someone else with the same consequences of needing to hurt someone, so while he really hates death and violence, he will sometimes actively pursue it. This happens when he works out a deal with Snow so he can protect his sister and his Mentor/Victor friends. It ends up at the point where the certainties of violence and death (aka, him knowing how to hurt and kill and what will happen if he does) are preferable to uncertainties; for example, when he baits a target so he can get them alone, he hates the flirting and finds satisfaction in killing them not only for what they did before but what he was forced to do to get them alone. He’s also aroace (sex repulsed, doesn’t think romance is repulsive but does not want romance in his life, figures this out later in the story) and so while navigating professional conversations in the Capitol is perhaps the same level of uncertainty as navigating conversations based around sexual / romantic / intimate matters, he will choose professionalism any time he believes it would still be effective. He also gets angry a lot, and due to shit parenting, doesn’t really know how to express his anger productively, so he bottles it up until he has an opportunity to turn it into despair or sadness, or to get it out, which further complicates his relationship with violence. He doesn’t really believe that he could ever be nonviolent because of how he’s been manipulated, but something he would hope for if he thought that hope wouldn’t lead him to more disappointment would be that someday he could protect people without resorting to violence.

Alder is not even a legal adult until part of the way through Recall, so how he interacts with people is largely in flux because he’s still figuring shit out. However, I think he’d immediately panic if we set him in another universe because while we’d be taking him away from the source of his pain, he would not be there to bear the brunt of it in order to shield his people. (His sister, Finnick, his tributes, Johanna, Haymitch, the other Victors, etc)

Despite wanting to go back asap, I think he’d probably get along well with anyone competent, or at least be polite with them. He would immediately set people off if they hated liars / could spot liars, because not only does he suppress his emotions, he manipulates the heck out of everyone he doesn’t know well. He’s pretty serious, but he does enjoy when people are natural goofballs because while he doesn’t exactly know how to interact with that kind of person, it’s a marked difference from fake Capitol elites and badly coping people from the Districts. Alder- despite his tendency to think fast- probably could not keep up with people like Wade Wilson, though he’d wouldn’t end up upset, just confused. He’d be fine with powers if he knows about them before they are used, and while he might get along with Quinn and Logan, he’d be just as likely to put up an emotional wall to hide the panic that comes from being massively out of his depth. Probably wouldn’t be able to hide it completely.

Alder has a ton of me in him, so like me, it’s hard to say if he’s going to be able to adjust / adapt quickly or get massively thrown off by changes. It depends on where he’s at. Unlike me, he forms very deep attachments to people around him, even if he doesn’t particularly like them. (Example: Eero, an older District 7 Victor, is absolutely an asshole, but if Eero ever needed anything, Alder would take care of it immediately.) So if he’s required to work on a team, he’s going to need people on that team to like him or find him useful in some way. He is used to receiving rejection in subtle ways though, so he will distance himself if he thinks it’s necessary or that he’s bothering someone.

Willow is Alder’s friend, and while she later is taken from District 7 for trying to stop people from taking Ash (Alder’s sister), she kind of jumpstarts Alder’s realization about his identity. She confesses that she wants a romantic relationship with him before he leaves to be a Mentor for the first time, and while he tries not to think about it, he ultimately comes to the conclusion that he loves her in a way that is completely platonic. He has to work through guilt about that after she is taken, but he realizes that if he loved her romantically, that doesn’t mean he would have loved her better or been in a better position to save her, which helps. Alder also has more realizations about himself through observing the Victors; many of them use romance or sex as a way to reclaim their autonomy, and even those around him who have sworn off it did it because of past or present trauma. While Alder is happy that some of his friends have ways they’ve dealt with trauma that don’t seem as harmful as his, Haymitch’s, and Chaff’s drinking problems, he is quick to observe that he is alone in this (at least in his circle).

Delu comes in pretty late in Recall, but has a bigger role in The Other Side Of The Coin (the third / final work in the series, currently in the planning stage). Delu replaces Trace as the new escort for District 7. Alder becomes really close with her, and she’s one of the first people in Alder’s life to realize without being told that he doesn’t want sex or romance in his life, and that it’s nothing personal and it’s not a statement of defiance. While Delu is not aro or ace, she ultimately decides that she’d rather spend her life as Alder’s close friend and teammate than find a spouse to settle down with. They both teach each other a lot; Alder teaches Delu about the Districts and Delu teaches Alder about how ugly the Capitol can be to their own, not only to the Districts.

If you can’t tell, I love my imaginary son a lot. I’m gonna stop now, but here’s a line from Recall that I haven’t posted yet lol (it references the fact that Alder doesn’t get to see Ash as she grows up):

Ash grows older. 7’s tributes don’t.

[krowfics]

But you’re still a kid that grew

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Plot: Passion was small and Passion was orange. So he couldn't be. (or why there's two blue sides)

Words: 3257

Notes: Logan angst, canon universe, all the other sides are technically unsympathetic ig - especially Patton and Remus, sad and unresolved ending. this fic’s ending overlaps with WTIT.

This might be considered a character study? idk i wrote this in a hyper fixated haze

AO3

~~~

He was small and he was orange.

Dressed head to toe, orange tee shirt, orange cargo shorts, orange socks and orange shoes. 

He was learning about cheetahs. They're the fastest animal in the world, they can reach speeds up to 70 miles per hour! He didn't know what that meant but it sounded fast. 

He stared at the TV screen with rapt attention, meanwhile Thomas played with a stuffed fox from Fox and the Hound and a plastic toy of Peter Pan (from Peter Pan.) glancing up at the screen occasionally. Thomas’ mom had decided to put on an educational show instead of Disney Channel, which Thomas hadn’t minded but he had been ecstatic about.

He really, really wanted to know how fast 70 miles per hour is.

So Thomas twisted around to look at his mom, who was reading a book on the couch with her feet tucked underneath her, and he asked.

"Hmm, as fast as a car." She answered.

That's super fast for an animal, he knew Thomas couldn't run that fast, he didn't even think a dog could run that fast.

"Wow, that's super fast." Thomas said.

"Sure is, Bud." His mom replied with a smile.

He learned more, needed to learn more. He had Thomas switch the channel to documentaries in between his Disney shows, had him ask his mom and dad every question under the sun, squinted at books over Thomas' shoulders as they were both figuring out how to read, even though neither really could yet.

Some adults had reading glasses to make them read better, maybe that would make him read better.

It helped, he thinks, he didn't think anything was wrong with his vision before but now he never wanted to take his glasses off.

He was bigger, he was orange, and he wanted to know everything.

Passion. 

Thomas' mom had called Thomas passionate once, maybe he was Passion.

They went to school, and kindergarten was boring. All they did was color! The first grade was better, but there was still far too much coloring of cartoon characters for Passion’s taste. 

Creativity liked it. So Passion tried not to complain. He didn't really talk to the Others much anyway. 

He liked talking to Creativity, both of them, but they each fell off into their own tangents that got so far from where Passion hand started, that he kind of wished he didn’t talk at all.

He had nothing to do with Morality or Fears or even Creativity, really, the good or the bad, he just wanted to learn and he wanted Thomas to learn.

Lies was annoying because he just wanted to get out of work, and Thomas would listen to him sometimes, which wasn't fair. But sometimes Morality would get in Lies’ way and they'd yell a bunch until Thomas gave into Morality, which was better but it was still annoying. When they yelled he wanted to scream.

It was all frustrating. The Creativities’ imagination was nice until it became completely fake, Lies made Thomas say things that were completely fake, Fears would make up stuff to make Thomas upset which was usually completely fake and Morality would repeat the adults dumb rules which seemed to be completely fake!

It was frustrating, fakeness was frustrating, Passion only cared about real things. Weird plants and animals and bugs and rock formations and spaceships and dinosaurs.

He did not care about Disney princes and dragons and talking animals.

Morality told him he needed to share Thomas. But it wasn't fair, none of it was fair, how could it be fair when what everyone else wanted was completely fake?

He hated the fakeness, it was confusing, it was so hard to tell when Thomas was being lied to. He used to think he could fly because he saw it on TV - not the channels that Passion wanted to watch - and he jumped off his bed and bruised his knee super badly. 

Thomas cried for his knee and Passion cried because it wasn't real. It wasn't! They lied to him!

Passion cried more often than not, he yelled more often then he spoke. Thomas wouldn't listen to him, Thomas used to listen to him, didn't he?

Thomas didn't switch the channel to documentaries anymore and he didn't pay attention to his teacher, even when he really tried, he'd always be more focused on sitting still which made it almost impossible for Passion to pay attention, Thomas usually gave up, which made it even harder.

It wasn't fair. It wasn't fair!

He barely talked to the Others before but now he almost never did. Because now he couldn't stop himself from screaming or crying or getting really angry and breaking something in the imagination which would always make everyone upset with him but they'd never listen anyway!

He hated this. He felt so pathetic. He didn't want to cry all the time, he just wanted to learn. He wanted Thomas to learn.

Thomas got a new teacher when he started second grade, and he was nice.

Mr. Teagan was calm, always. He wore glasses and a tie, which must mean he's smart. He sounded smart, he didn't get mad at Thomas for moving in his seat or fidgeting with his hands, he even encouraged him to fiddle with a squishy rubber toy when Thomas' tapping got too loud for the rest of the class.

He never got frustrated when Thomas asked questions, he'd teach him how to understand the more complex math equations the rest of the class was learning. Passion really liked math and Thomas really liked math.

Thomas wasn't really listening to Passion but he was listening to his teacher. Maybe if Passion was calmer, they would listen to him.

They didn't. They ignored him as always, Bad Creativity called him a crybaby and that set Morality off, which Passion would have appreciated had Morality not also been ignoring him.

"Why'd you even bother to show up?" Good Creativity said as Morality calmed down and Bad Creativity continued to giggle.

"Be nice." Morality said plaintively.

"No, no, I mean, you never come here or talk to us, what do you want?" he didn't sound upset, just confused, but it didn't make the hurt go away because Passion was doing what he wanted already and they weren't listening.

"To talk about imaginary numbers." He said carefully, because imaginary numbers were so cool, even though he didn't really understand anything about them at all, but they sounded cool. They were fake but couldn't be frustrating-fake, because they were still math and math made them real!

"Ugh, Thomas will learn math in school." Good creativity whined.

Passion glanced to Morality, who only nodded, "Thomas is gonna watch Beauty and the Beast, he can't do math right now."

He's watching that again? Could it not be Lion King or Jungle Book, one that made him actually want to learn about animals?

"That's not fair." Passion said.

"He does plenty of math in school." Good Creativity said.

"But I want him to do it now!"

"We can't always get what we want." Morality said.

"Life is fair, you know." Lies said sarcastically from his place on the couch, he was hardly paying attention to the situation.

Morality liked Mr. Teagan, and Passion was being calm like Mr. Teagan, why wasn't it working? What was he doing wrong?

Fears nodded, looking deeply uncomfortable with the tenseness in the room, "You don't have to get upset over math."

"It's not fair." He yelled, and his voice cracked and his vision was blurry even though he was wearing his glasses.

Bad Creativity made a sharp laughing noise, “Crybaby!" he said, pointing, and he was completely right.

"You aren't being very nice." Morality said, and when Passion looked he saw that Morality was not looking at Bad Creativity, he was looking right at Passion.

He knew what that meant, Morality also said that Lies and Bad Creativity weren't very nice and then those 'weren't very nice's turned into 'not nice at all's. And Morality made sure that Thomas almost never listened to Sides who were not nice at all.

What if Thomas never listened to him again?

Passion choked on a sob. He needed to apologize, he needed to, but he couldn't get a word out with Morality staring him down like Thomas' mom or dad did when he got in trouble, Good Creativity stood right behind him, looking smug.

Passion turned around and ran out the room, a nasally laugh came from behind him, Bad Creativity, he assumed.

He hid his room and he cried. It felt like hours, or minutes, or days. He cried until his eyes were sore and his throat was scratchy and his nose was stuffed.

Something was wrong with him.

There had to be a reason no one listened to him, there had to be a reason no one liked him.

He stayed away after that, he couldn't risk it. He needed to stay calm like Mr. Teagan but he couldn't when no one was listening anyway. He’d get too frustrated, too overwhelmed. A bitter part of him thought it’d be better to not feel at all, if the bad emotions were so unavoidable and were making him ruin everything. 

They wouldn't listen to him, no matter what he did, would they? They've already decided he was too passionate to deal with.

He helped Thomas with homework when he needed, Morality made Thomas do his homework because it was Wrong not to, but he didn't really stick around for the process. So when Thomas would get stuck, Passion would show up to help. 

He didn't make Thomas learn outside of school though, he stopped begging for him to change the channel to a documentary when Morality wanted to watch a cartoon, he bit his tongue every single time he played pretend with Good Creativity.

Passion was able to learn still, he didn’t think any of the others could completely stop him if they tried. It was much harder, but he could consume information that Thomas learned subconsciously. It wasn't nearly as good as Thomas learning outright, but it was better than nothing and Passion would take all he could get.

Thomas' third grade teacher was not nearly as patient as Mr. Teagan, which means that Thomas didn't like her which means he had a much harder time paying attention. 

Morality stayed with him a lot, making him pay attention as it was Wrong not to pay attention to adults. He made him do his homework and sat there through his frustration so he'd actually finish as it was wrong not to hand it in finished the next day, he made Thomas do everything he was told, even as Lies hissed and spat in the Mindscape to get his way, Morality didn't even care that he was making Thomas miserable. Maybe he didn’t notice.

He wouldn't listen to what Passion had to say about it though.

Passion was a crybaby, Passion was too emotional, Passion wasn't very nice.

Passion was small and Passion was orange.

So he couldn't be.

They had learned basic color theory long ago. Good Creativity loved it because it made everything pretty and hated it because it was rules and neither creativity ever wanted to put rules on art, other than the obvious Morality given ones. The ones that said it wasn't nice at all to draw Thomas killing his brother, something Good Creativity agreed with and bad creativity did not.

Color theory said that blue was the opposite of orange.

Maybe that's why Morality didn't like him. Morality was blue.

Blue comes in different shades.

One day, as Thomas was doing his homework, he felt a familiar pull. A feeling he would often ignore because Morality seemed to always be there. 

Be calm

He appeared, almost void of color, shirt as black as his glasses, plain blue jeans, black shoes. 

A tie, just like Thomas' second grade teacher always wore, except dark blue.

He was not small and he was not orange.

"Hello?" Thomas said, just behind him was Morality, who was staring.

Both looked stressed, hair messed up from running their hands through it and Thomas's eyes were rimmed red, almost crying from frustration.

Stay calm.

"What seems to be the problem Thomas?"

"Who..?" Thomas asked tiredly, glancing to Morality.

"I'm not sure, kiddo. Are you new?"

The only thing differentiating the sides visually were their clothes and their colors.

Without orange, Morality didn't recognize him.

Good.

"I am Thomas' Logic."

"Oh, goodness!" Morality smiled brightly, when was the last time he smiled at him like that? "It's been so long since we've gotten a new side! I’m Morality, It's nice to meet you."

Stay calm.

"You as well, now what is the issue?"

Thomas gestured to the paper on his desk and Logic learned over his shoulder to see the equation. He thought Thomas liked math?

It was division, a bit on the complicated side but not terribly so. 

"Thomas, do you understand that division is just the opposite of multiplication?"

"Mrs. Drache keeps saying so, but…"

So he didn't understand.

"All that means is you can reverse this." He summoned up a pen and paper and wrote the equation down where Thomas could see.

And the he wrote the same numbers directly under it but swapped the division sign for an equal sign and the original equals sign for multiplication.

"Are you more confident in your times tables, Thomas?" he asked.

Thomas nodded, paused, and then nodded again. He looked tired. "Yeah um, I did them quicker than most of the class last week. I only got 3 wrong."

"Good." Logic said, "what times 7 is 49?"

Thomas stared for a moment, "5 times 7 is 35."

"Yes."

"and 6 times 7 is 42."

"it is."

Thomas pressed his lips together and then wrote 7 down on his homework.

Thomas listened to him. He actually listened to him and he learned.

Stay calm.

"Good job, Thomas."

Thomas beamed and everything was worth it.

Morality made a high pitch noise, startling Logic, he forgot he was there.

But there Morality was, clapping and smiling, smiling at Thomas and Logic.

"I knew you could do it, kiddo!" 

Thomas smiled and returned to his homework, both sides there for help and encouragement.

Morality stopped showing up so much for homework, he let Logic help him pay attention in class, he started letting Thomas get away with things that made him happy. At some point academics were completely left up to Logic.

Morality trusted Logic. Morality liked Logic.

Stay calm.

Logic said nothing as Thomas changed career paths, Morality wanted him to be happy and Creativity wanted him to perform. Logic could handle his amount of attention diminishing, Thomas’ happiness was more important. 

Stay calm.

He helped Thomas through each moral conundrum and anxiety attack, even if he had to wade through the others' arguments to do so. It’d be easier if they didn’t have to work through their emotions before they actually listened to him but, regardless, they always did eventually.

Stay calm.

He had made himself heard, he didn't need emotions anymore, he never needed them in the first place. He needed Thomas to be healthy and happy, even if that meant Logic didn't always get his way. He was fine.

Stay calm.

Deceit and Dark Creativity's increased presence was annoying but manageable. Thomas hadn't remembered either, which made sense. 

Deceit had kept himself hidden from Thomas before his scales started appearing - a younger Thomas taking the lying snake in the garden of Eden a bit too seriously, Logic suspects - and Logic was fairly certain that Thomas had never even met Remus as a child.

Thomas was barely interested in what Logic had to say as is, splitting his attention between three other sides who just boiled down to differing emotions. Janus and Remus complicated things, they kept getting in the way.

All sides deserved to be listened to, a part of Logic is sure of it, but with all of them demanded it only for themselves, he had to fight to.

Morality at least didn't like them fighting, Creativity would always listen to Morality and thus stayed in good graces, and Anxiety held enough sympathy from Patton that he was always able to be listened to too.

No one really liked Logic, he could tell. They might claim they like Logan, they probably don't even think they're lying about it. But they wouldn't like him if he couldn't stay calm.

Stay calm.

He was trying to stay calm.

He was finally being listened to, even if it seemed to be less and less each day, he was letting Thomas take breaks, he was letting Thomas stay happy even as the anxiety of cleaning was getting to him.

Why did Remus have to taunt him today of all days? The day when Thomas actually had some urge to make a list of tasks, to finally clean his living space so he could be more productive. 

Stay calm.

Thomas was busy dancing, quite literally dancing always the intrusive thoughts.

Logic was calm, he would stay calm.

He breathed a calculated breath and turned to Remus, who was giggling in that obnoxious way he does. Even after all these years, even as they got older, that laugh never really did change.

Logic was speaking calmly, he was being nice, he was barely showing any frustration even as Remus made it clear he was not listening.

Thomas listened to him though, he had listened today, and the only times he stopped today was when Remus got in the way.

Stay. Calm.

He needed to get through to Remus. He needed to. He needed to be listened to, he needed Thomas to listen. He barely listened as is, he can't let it get as bad as it was back then, back when no one listened no matter what. 

"Remus."

he wasn't listening. Thomas wouldn't listen because Remus wouldn't listen. Logic needed him to listen.

Remus summoned a book literally titled, 'Ignoring Dummies for Dummies' 

"Remus."

The haunting taunt of 'crybaby' rang in his ears. It was extremely frustrating, he couldn't get frustrated - he had to stay calm.

Logic could barely breathe.

Remus wouldn't listen.

Stay calm

Stay calm

STAY CALM

"Stop ignoring me!"

That wasn't very calm.

Remus was talking, smug as Logan had ever seen him and not even remotely surprised, but the words barely registered. 

And then Remus was gone, and Thomas was on the phone with Nico.

Was that on purpose? Did… Did Remus know?

Stay calm.

He was not orange.

He wasn't.

Everything worked out, except it didn't because Thomas had abandoned his schedule and his apartment didn't get cleaned, but that was okay. It had to be okay. 

Thomas barely seemed to listened to Logic anymore anyway, he shouldn’t have gotten his hopes up. Thomas listened when it was absolutely necessary and that was enough. It had to be. Logic had to stay calm. He had to hold together each piece of him that shattered and broke off when he was ignored, he couldn't afford to be pushed to emotions by Remus, or anyone, especially not when Thomas is there.

Stay calm.

He was not a crybaby.

Stay calm.

He was not Passion.

Stay calm.

He was not orange.

He wished there was nothing of Passion left, nothing left to feel anything, but as he curled up in his room to hide, he felt small.

~~~

tags~ @flowercrownsandtrauma

[emoprincey]

2 for the fan sides ask game?

2. Ok so I have Creativity, Logic, Morality/feelings, Anxiety, Depression, and Anger/self-preservation, because I feel like those are the things that factor in the most when I'm making decisions, if that makes sense.

(I'm gonna use my own pronouns to refer to my sides here but I might give them different ones as I develop them more)

They are very similar to Sanders Sides, obviously with four of them having the same traits as them. I only have one creativity side tho, because I don't feel like I mentally separate my creativity into "good" and "bad" the way c!Thomas does.

I feel like I've almost tried to make my logical side Too Much like Logan, they're definitely the one I've developed the least and I'm kinda struggling to come up with a logical character that actually seems like me (idk what that says about me as a person lmao)

I also haven't really thought that much about Morality, I feel like they would kind of encompass my feelings the way Patton does, but I don't have much beyond that.

I don't think my anxious side is all that similar to Virgil, beyond representing anxiety. They definitely have a very different aesthetic (I haven't finished the designs but I imagine them wearing a lot of pastel colours and focusing more on comfy clothes). I also don't think I would ever have viewed them as a villain like c!Thomas did with Virgil.

Another difference from Sanders Sides is that I don't think I'd have a deceitful side, at least in this sense, because lying doesn't really come naturally to me??? Like maybe it's just the autism but I very often forget that lying is A Thing I can do, so I wouldn't have it as like an inate part of me. If anything, Morality would be in charge of dishonesty. That makes more sense to me.

Anger and Depression are the ones I've added that aren't also Sanders Sides characters(unless my theories about the orange side are right lol)

I do have depression, and that impacts my life a lot so I figured that should be represented by one of the sides. I don't like to get into the darker aspects of it, so her role in the comic ideas that as of now only exist in my head is just... wanting to sleep and stay inside all the time and not having the energy to do much. I actually really like her as a character, she's very sweet, she's just very sad and tired all the time.

As I mentioned, my side that represents anger also represents self-preservation. I see my anger as being the part of me that wants to stand up for myself when someone upsets me, so that feels very linked to self-preservation for me. I don't have dark sides, as in sides that are hidden, but Anger is definitely not allowed out much (Morality is probably the one who wants to keep them inside) because I don't really like to be angry and also am shit at standing up for myself lol

Thanks for the ask, I really like talking abt these little guys!!

[charliesimss]

1-20 for Logan

Talk about your muse’s birth. Was it usual or complicated? Where were they born? Who was there when they were born?

I've written his birth and I'm like 90% sure I've sent it to you, but for everyone that doesn't have unlimited access to my notes app, his birth was quite uneventful. He was born in LA, California and He basically just slid right out, within like an hour of his mom getting to the hospital, she had some meds but not an epidural. No one related to him was there besides his mom (both his parents failed to show up for his birth), and some doctors and nurses were there too but not related to him. After he was born he was taken away for some x rays and tests and whatever to make sure the rest of his limbs were in tact, and his mom was upset but then she went to sleep. I watch too much call the midwife and base all my ocs births off that show.

2. What was their earliest memory?

His first memory is sitting in a shopping cart and playing with a toy car on the carts pushy handle thing, he was probably 2 or 3.

3. What were they like as a baby? How much did they cry?

He didn't cry too much, he was a really easy baby. Alexa probably had him attached at her hip, so she'd always soothe him right away.

4. What were their first words?

It was car actually, because I wanted to be unique, before I knew anything about babies or language.

5. When did they start walking?

He was four cause the whole not having a functioning leg thing really held him that in that department, but he crawled and hopped around before that

6. When were they fully potty trained?

Probably at 3, alexa being a preschool teacher student wanted to use all her teaching skills on teaching him that

7. Did they ever use a pacifier? If so, when did they stop using it? Did they give it up willingly or did it have to be taken?

He'd use one of the cute ones with a bear on them you know? but only with his babysitter, his mom didn't like them or feel he needed one because he was easy to soothe.

8. How often did they throw temper tantrums? What were they usually about?

Almost never....when I say he was an NPC child...... he'd get sad and frustrated, but rarely have full throwing on the ground tantrums. And he didn't really start being sad to his parents until he was an older kid like 5+ years. (I wrote a lot of that stuff cause few things I love more than making men cry)

9. What were they like as a child? How different were they from their current self?

He was a wild kid, always doing something and making friends laugh or be silly, always making friends with other kids in general, and then he liked sports as well but only played for fun at school. He definitely took gym too seriously. And now he's an athletic party goer in most versions of himself so he hasn't changed much.

10. How easy (or hard) was it to take care of them?

Alexa being a teen mom was not prepared as to how hard a new born was. Even though he didn't really fuss all that much, he still needed basic care that she was very overwhelmed to give him. So she would say he was hard to care for.

11. What kind of activities did they like to do? Did they ever play pretend?

He liked to play with his cars and avengers action figures. He probably played pretend too, but it wasn't his go to activity.

12. Were they a fussy eater?

no, not a fussy eater, he liked a lot of stuff, including sushi which I think is a weird thing for a kid to like.

13. When it comes to sleep, do they go down easy or did they fight it tooth and nail?

Sleeping is something he did really well for the first 4 years and 302 days of his life. And then he had surgery and ain't have a good sleep sINCE. He'd get put to bed but then call in Alexa or Graham a bunch of times for water, cuddles, bathroom, all kinds of things. As he got older he got better at sleeping though, by middle school he was sleeping through the night. :))

14. What kinds of toys did they like?

Toy cars and trucks and action figures.

15. What was their favorite toy?

His avengers house action figure set inspired by captian america civil war but specifically his spidey that came with it. (idk if this is a real thing I'm 72% sure I made it up)

16. What kind of discipline were they subjected to? Was it lenient or strict?

He could murder someone on purpose in front of Alexa and she would be like "awe my sweet baby boy" absolutely not a disciplining bone in her body for him. He never got punished, she tried to be a gentle mom and give him only natural consequences like cleaning up if he spilled something accidentally and sometimes he'd hit her with the "can't clean I'm disabled :/" and she'd crack and just do it for him. But as he got older graham would ground him or take his phone or make him write apology letters depending on what he did. Graham was punished a lot as a kid and then grew up to be a c*p in cannon, so I imagine he'd be pretty strict.

17. Describe a typical day for them. Did they have a set schedule?

Saying he's 6 heres a day in the life:

7:00am: Wake up usually by himself (as in his parents don't need to), play in his room, sometimes he'd get dressed by himself before having breakfast if it was a special day, but usually he'd get dressed after. 7:30: Have breakfast, usually something quick like toast or cereal and a juice or water 7:40-8:00: Get dressed, sometimes with alexa or graham's help to urge him along but he's independent most days. Brush his teeth, brush his hair if needed, all that. And then he'd mostly play until he had to go to school. 8:15-8:20: Walk to school with graham or drive with alexa depending on the day!! 8:30am-2:30pm: School things. Its fairly uneventful, he mostly played with the boys in his class but didnt really have meaningful connections with anyone until he switched schools in second grade and met his best friend, aaron. 2:45pm: He'd just free play at home, but usually outside, he'd play in the garden or on his bike or something really active. He wasn't in sports at 6 but he couldve been. 4:00-5:00: Sometime between there he'd go inside and start his spelling homework with Alexa while she made dinner. 5:00-6:00: Have dinner 6:00-6:30: He could have screen time, alexa seems like she'd be really strict with this, even if it was just watching a show being his screen time. 7:00: Have a bath and get ready for bed.

So he didn't have a super strict schedule, but some parts were pretty steady, and he was a really go with the flow type boy.

18. What was their favorite childhood memory? Their least favorite?

His least favourite is probably when his mom said they'd go get donuts after their errunds and instead just fucking pullled over the car and screamed. That ones my fondest from his childhood though. His favourite was when he met Aaron and their first sleepover together because his mom let them pick whatever they wanted from the corner store.

19. What was their favorite holiday as a child? Their least favorite?

Christmas was his favourite, thanksgiving his least favourite because they had to go around the table and say what they were thankful for, and it wasnt that he was ungreatful, it was that he didnt want his mom to be upset with his answer.

20. What was their relationship like with their parents? How different was it than currently?

Him and Graham click like links together, they've always liked each other. In most versions Logan doesn't ever meet his bio dad, but he did in cannon and didn't get along with him because he was a criminal :/. His and Alexa's relationship has always been strained, he liked her more when he was a kid before he knew she was traumatized and taking it out on him. And I think once he learned that in family therapy as a teenager he never saw her the same way. He and her are civil. He doesn't like her, but he does love her.

[ejsandfarkleslovebot]

CHAPTER FOUR - BIG TIME AUDITIONS PART FOUR

The boys are now out by the pool area where Guitar Dude is playing sad music. Kendall was laying back on one of the lounge chairs with his hands behind his head, Logan was sitting on one, Carlos was laying on one of chairs and James was pacing in front of them. They were all upset with what had happened in the studio earlier.

"He's really good at piano." Logan spoke up, trying to lighten the mood but it didn't work.

"And I'm so depressed." Carlos mumbled, staring up at the sky with an upset expression on his face.

"It's the music." Kendall realizes and puts his hands down to his side. He looks over at Guitar Dude. "Guitar Dude, please."

Guitar Dude stops playing and smiles sheepishly at him. "Oh, sorry."

Kendall's younger sister, Katie, then walks up to them. "So, has Gustavo Dork made you guys famous yet?"

Kendall sits up, shrugging his shoulders. "We had some creative differences."

Katie rolls her eyes and puts her hands on her hips. "You got fired, didn't you?"

"All he did was yell and scream at us and make us wear dangerously tight pants." Kendall pointed out.

Logan nods in agreement. "Yeah, but Andi did stood up for us."

Katie raises a eyebrow. "That nice girl with brown hair?" She asks and the boys nods in response. "She's cool." Katie commented. She didn't know her very well, but she had been kind and nice to her.

"Yeah, she is." Kendall agreed with a smile on his face. She had stuck up for them when Gustavo had been so harsh and mean. He didn't understand why she had done that, though. But he did know it made him feel giddy that she did that. She was amazing. She was just so pretty and kind and smart and sweet and-

"Earth to Kendall." James waves his hand in front of his friend's face. Kendall blinks, shaking his head to get himself out of that daze as he looked at James. His friend had an amused smirk on his face. "What were you thinking about?"

"Nothing," Kendall answered quickly, glancing away from James to hide the blush that was creeping up his neck while his heart kept racing. His friends would definitely tease him about the crush he was starting to have on Andi. He could already imagine the endless amount of jokes and teasing.

"Hmm, sure." James rolls his eyes, not believing what he said but he didn't say anything else about it. "But yeah, you're right. He wanted to turn us into rich and famous pops stars. What an idiot!" He exclaimed sarcastically.

Kendall looks at him with a blank expression. "He wanted to turn us into trained dancing dogs."

"He's not wrong." A voice speaks, startling the five and they look over to see Andi. She looks at them with an apologetic expression as she walked over to them. "I'm really sorry about Gustavo."

Logan shakes his head. "You shouldn't be apologizing for him."

Andi sighs. "I know. I just hate how he treats people, especially you guys."

Carlos gives her a small smile. "Thanks, Andi. We appreciate you standing up for us."

She smiles back and nods. "I just wanted to come by and check on you guys and see if you were okay." She said as she looked at each of the boys. They were upset, but that was understandable. She would have been upset too if someone acted like Gustavo had acted towards them. "And to also apologize again."

"It's fine." Kendall reassures her and Andi looks at him, meeting his gaze and her smile grew. His heart skipped a beat when she smiled at him. It was beautiful. She was beautiful. He felt his face grow warm so he looks away quickly and clears his throat. "Uh, we'll be okay." He stuttered, mentally cursing himself for being so flustered around her. He tries to regain his composure, glancing at his friends who were all watching him with amused expressions. "Yeah, we'll figure something out." He added, trying to sound more confident.

Andi nods, her smile softening. "Well, if you need anything, just let me know. Seriously." She looks at each of them, her eyes sincere. "I'm here for you guys."

James nods. "Thanks, Andi. That means a lot. But seriously, Kendall," He looks back at Kendall, going back to the topic he and his friends were talking about since he was still upset about it. "He was going to make us rich and famous dancing dogs."

Logan points to him. "He's got a point."

Kendall looks over at Logan with a little offense. "Oh, so you're siding with James now?"

Logan quickly shakes his head. "No, I, uh. Maybe. Kinda. Yes." He stammered with a grimace.

Andi looks over at Katie with confusion. "What did I just walk in on?"

Katie shrugs. "They're arguing. So nothing unusual." Andi still looked a bit confused but she nodded in response.

James glares at Carlos, Kendall, and Logan. "You guys blew it. You blew my shot. You could have tried harder, but you didn't."

Carlos jumps up from the lounge chair he was laying on. "Okay! Let's all just calm down and think nice, happy thoughts about kittens."

Andi smiles, thinking it was cute that Carlos was trying to help his friends cheer up. "You think about kittens with your bad singing and that stupid helmet!" James pushed him, making him fall back on the lounge chair he was laying on earlier.

Andi's eyes widens with surprise. "Woah, James. Calm down. No need to get violent."

James ignores her as Logan nods in agreement with Andi and stands up. "Guys, guys. Remember our pack about not letting this town tear us apart?" Carlos yelled angrily and ram at James to try and knocked him down, but James stopped him and they continued to fight.

Kendall groans and stands up, joining the fight just as Logan joins in. "Great! Now we're all fighting. I didn't even wanna do this."

"Everybody with no problem wants to do this, Kendall!" Carlos yelled.

Andi looks over at Katie with a smirk. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

Katie looks at her, tilting her head to the side. "That this is stupid?"

Nodding, Andi chuckles. "Yes, but I was thinking of…" Her voice trailed off and she bent down to Katie's height, whispering what her idea was in her ear.

Katie grins at hearing her idea and nods while Andi stands back up. "I like the way you think."

The two of them walk over to the boys and push them into the pool. The four of them yell as they fall into the pool. The two girls high five each other triumphally. The boys looked up at Andi and Katie with disbelief.

"Andi, Katie!" Kendall scolds and the girls smiles innocently at him and the boys. "What'd you do that for?" He asked them.

Both of them smirks and said, "It looked like you guys needed to cool off."

Logan sighs and looks at his friends. "They're right."

James looks at his friends with an apologetic look. "I'm sorry."

Andi smiles, thinking that their fight was finally going to stop. It did for a bit until Carlos splashed James and it just went down hill from there.

Shrugging, Katie looks up at her. "Well, we tried." She then walked away and Andi sighed as she looked back at the boys. They were having a water war now. She thought it was kind of funny to watch but it was probably going to get worse and escalate to a real fight.

"Guys, come on. Don't start that again." Andi tried to tell them but they didn't listen. She pauses when water was splashed in her direction. Her eyes widened as her mouth fell open. The boys had stopped splashing each other when they realized that and shared nervous looks, unsure of what her reaction would be. "Okay, it's on now." Andi dropped her bag and kicked her sandals off before she ran towards the pool and jumped in.

"Wait, what are you-" James' question was cut off as she was splashed in the face. He looks over at Andi and raises his hands up. "Woah, hey! Why'd you do that for?"

"Payback." She smirked as she splashed him again. He then started to splash her which led to a water war between her and the boys. Andi was completely soaked, but she could care less. She was having fun and so were the boys. She could tell by the smiles and their laughs that they were enjoying it.

The playful water fight continued for a while, with Andi and the boys splashing each other and laughing uproariously. It was a welcome break from the tension and stress they had been experiencing with Gustavo's harsh criticism and unrealistic expectations. As the sun began to set, casting a warm glow over the pool area, Andi and the boys finally called a truce, exhausted but in high spirits. They climbed out of the pool, dripping wet but smiling, and collapsed onto the lounge chairs, basking in the afterglow of their impromptu water war. They now sat near a firepit, chatting and laughing and simply enjoying each other's company.

Andi looked around at the group and felt a sense of warmth and contentment, her heart swelling with happiness. This is what it felt like to be truly happy, she thought, to have good friends by her side and nothing to worry about. She had friends, of course, just not many friends, and the ones she did have she didn't hang out with often. But being around these four boys made her feel at home. It was something she hadn't felt in a long time, and it was a feeling she could get used to.

She sat by Kendal, a towel wrapped around her and a smile on her face as she listened to the boys talk about a variety of topics. Her heart kept racing whenever Kendall's arm would brush against hers or he would laugh and smile at her. Her face would grow warm and butterflies would flutter in her stomach. She was starting to have a crush on Kendall and it was scary but also exciting. She had never felt this way about anyone before, and it was a new and thrilling experience.

"I could stay here and be a model. I'm still great looking." James speaks up. "Or the star of a reality show."

"Which one? 'Project Idiot'?" Carlos quipped, earning a small chuckle from Andi.

James sighs. "That's just your jealousy talking."

"You know what's funny?" Kendall questions. "We didn't even get a chance to sing together."

Andi watches with amusement as the boys started singing the song Kendall had made up. She leans back against the couch, watching them with a soft smile and amusement shining in her eyes. They sounded great together and she was impressed they could harmonize easily without any practice. They had amazing talent and she wished Gustavo had seen that. He missed out on some great talent. When the boys were finished with singing, everyone was clapping for them and she joined them. The boys looked surprised, but they all smiled at everyone. James, who had stepped on the couch when he sang, got down and did a small bow before he sat back down. Everyone then went back to what they were doing before, chatter filling the air again.

"You guys are really talented." Andi compliments. "Gustavo missed out on some great talent, that's for sure." She says, causing the boys to smile bigger. "Don't let him get you down, okay? I think you guys have amazing talent and I think you could go far if you became a band."

The boys grin at her. "Thanks, Andi. We really appreciate that." Kendall tells her and the others nods in agreement. After sharing a look with his friends, he smiles at them. "We should do this. You guys were right." He stands up and stands in front of the fire pit as he looks at his friends. "I really think we should do this."

"How? We got fired, remember?" Logan reminded him with a frown.

"We didn't get fired" When Logan sent him a look, Kendall corrects himself. "I mean, we got fired. But the problem is we didn't try out best."

James raises his hand. "I tried my best."

"We know, James." Kendall reassures him. "We know." He glances over at Guitar Dude. "Guitar Dude, I need some music. Something inspirational." Guitar Dude nods and starts playing while Kendall faces his friends again. "We are hockey players, brothers of the ice, and we do not quit. Now are we gonna dump the puck and scramble back to the bench or are we gonna grab that puck, pull the goalie, and rush the net big time?"

"You really think we can make it as a boy band?" Carlos asked hopefully. James nodded and grinned as he stood.

"No," Kendall admits and James sat back down. "But I've realized three things since we got here. One - I love singing, two - I love singing with you guys and opportunities like this come once in a life time."

"What's the third thing?" Logan inquired.

"It's minus eight in Minnesota right now and I'm in love with this pool." Kendall adds, glancing over at the pool behind him which earned some chuckles from Andi and his friends. "So what's the play? Dump the puck or big time rush?"

James stands immediately with a grin. "Big time rush."

Carlos stands as well, putting his helmet on. "Big time rush."

Logan is the last to stand as he smiles. "Big time rush."

"Big time rush." Kendall grins. He then glances over at Andi. "Andi, didn't you say that you write songs?"

She nods, a little taken aback that he remembered. Her heart flutters in her chest at the thought that he actually remembered her saying that. "Uh, yeah. Why?"

"Because if you're up to it, it would mean a lot if you could help us with writing a song. If not, we understand." He told her.

Andi was touched by their gesture and her heart warmed. She was surprised by Kendall's request but also excited at the prospect of collaborating with them. She had to admit she would love to help them out with this, but she was nervous and anxious. She never wrote a song for someone to sing. She wrote songs and poems, but she doesn't tell just anyone that and she doesn't show anyone them either. Though the boys somehow convinced her to show some to them and they all commented how great she was, but that was different. This is her first time writing a song that would be recorded. The pressure was on and she was already nervous and anxious. But the way Kendall was looking at her and how hopeful his friends looked gave her the courage to agree. Plus she had to admit she already had a few ideas for a song.

She hesitates a moment, glancing at the boys and then back at Kendall. "I don't know…" Her voice trails off as she gnawed on her lower lip. "Um, are you sure you want me to help? I'm not a professional writer. I just write for fun." Andi said nervously, fidgeting with the towel on her lap.

"Are you kidding me? Your songs are amazing!" Carlos gushes while he grins at her. "My favorite was 'Make It Shine' and I loved all the others too." The other boys chimed in to agree with him, saying their favorite was that song as well.

Andi blushed at their compliments, feeling a surge of warmth and gratitude. She had always been hesitant to share her writing with others, but their encouragement and praise gave her a newfound confidence. She smiled shyly at the boys and nodded, accepting their request.

"Alright, then. I'll help you guys write a song." She told them as she stood up. The boys cheered, their excitement contagious, and she grinned when they pulled her into a group hug. She laughed and hugged them back, her heart racing with exhilaration. It was going to be a challenge, but she was determined to help the boys create a song that would win over the record execs and get them a record deal. Andi found herself squished in the hug between James and Kendall and while they cheered, she couldn't help but glance over at Kendall, her cheeks turning pink at seeing he was already staring at her. His cheeks turned pink when their eyes met, but he didn't look away. She smiled shyly at him, and he returned it, her heart skipping a beat at his adorable smile. She hoped she could be helpful to them and maybe, just maybe, her crush would turn into something more.

Andi follows the boys down the hallway of Rocque Records, in front of the group besides Kendall. She tries to ignore how her heart skips a beat when their arm brushed against each other as they walked. She shook her head and tried to focus on what was going on instead of her growing feelings for him. She noticed her mom and Gustavo along with Gustavo's team behind them at the end of the hallway. They start walking down the hallway, meeting her and the boys halfway.

"Well?" Gustavo questioned.

"Okay, we'll do it your way." Kendall answers. "No goofing off, no pillow fights, and no questions for the next two days."

Gustavo is silent for a moment as he thought things over. Everyone is relieved when he says, "Okay. 'Girl Time' from the top."

Andi grimaces along with the boys. "Except for that." Kendall quickly said. "We really don't wanna sing 'Girl Time'."

"Oh, let me guess. You have a better idea. We'll, let's-let's hear it. Let's hear the dogs' better song title." Gustavo spoke dramatically, earning an eye roll from Andi while she crossed her arms.

"'Big Time Rush'." The boys said in unsion. Gustavo is quiet and Andi couldn't read his expression which made her chew her lower lip nervously.

"It's a song about four hockey players from Minnesota who have an amazing opportunity in front of 'em and they're gonna take their best shot." Kendall explains and butterflies swarm in Andi's stomach when he suddenly tossed an arm around her shoulders, pulling her close. "And Andi, here, already came up with some lyrics for it."

Andi's cheeks turn pink and her heart races as Gustavo raises an eyebrow at her. She wanted the floor to swallow her up right then and there at feeling everyone's gaze on her. She swallows nervously and leans into Kendall for comfort and support. He didn't seem to mind, in fact, his hand on her shoulder gently squeezed it and his thumb started rubbing soothing circles into her shoulder which helped ease her nerves. "Uh, well, they're just a few lyrics and, um, they might not be good, but uh…Yeah, they're something." She pulled her notebook out of her bag and with nervous, shaky hands she flipped to the right page and handed it to Gustavo.

"Wow, this is really good, honey." Kelly comments as she read it over Gustavo's shoulder. She glances over at Andi with a soft smile. "Why didn't you ever tell me you write songs?" She honestly felt hurt her daughter didn't tell her about this, but she understood why.

Andi's face grew warmer and she shrugs. "I didn't think they were that good." She mumbled, averting her gaze as she fidgeted with the strap of her bag.

"Which is crazy because everyone we saw was amazing." Logan chimes in. "Your poems and songs are amazing. You have a real talent for writing."

"I have to agree." Gustavo finally speaks up, startling Andi. He had been quiet for a few moments and she feared that he didn't like it or thought it was stupid. But hearing him say that gave her hope he would accept it. "These lyrics are pretty good."

"You've got to stop using the word 'girl' in all your song titles," Kelly said to Gustavo. "I think the title the boys came up with is good. And I also think maybe you and Andi could work together to finish writing the song. With her help, you could probably get the song done in a day."

Gustavo is quiet for a moment before he says, "Okay, we'll do it that way." He glances over at Andi and hands her back her notebook. "You think you can help me out with this?"

Andi is surprised by his question as she takes her notebook back and puts it back in her bag. "I, um, yeah. I'll do my best." She said quietly, a little nervous about helping him, but also excited at the same time. She never expected her day would turn out this way, but she was happy and she hoped that things would continue to go well for them. Kendall gave her shoulder another squeeze, bringing her attention to him and making her heart skip a beat. He grinned at her and she returned it. Maybe her crush wasn't as unrequited as she thought.

"Alright, we're gonna be workin' all night because friday is two days away," Gustavo continues, causing Andi and Kendall to look back at him. "And we are in a big time rush."

Once Andi and Gustavo finished writing the song, the boys were put in the recording booth to sing it. Andi stood by her mom where she stood by Gustavo, who sat at the sound system. "Okay, 'Big Time Rush' from the top. Only this time let's try not to make me wanna choke you." Gustavo told them before pressing the button for them to hear him and the boys gave him thumbs up.

For the next two days the boys practiced dancing and singing the song. Andi was surprised and proud that the boys learned how to dance well, and she could tell they were enjoying it. They still had their moments, but the boys had improved and she had no doubt they would wow the record executives. Soon their outfits were found and they were ready to preform. Andi stood next to her mom and Gustavo in the recording studio where Griffin sat and watched the boys preform. It took awhile for him to warm up to the song and the boys, but she could tell after awhile he was starting to like it which made her feel better. At the end, the boys stood in their ending poses, breathing heavily from the energy they put into their performance. They tried to hide how nervous they were behind their smiles, but Andi could see it in their eyes and it made her stomach twist. She hoped that everything went well and that they would get the record deal.

Andi's eyes widen slightly, not expecting him to speak to her. "Um, yes. Yes sir, I did."

"You did a good job. You're talented. I want you to be their songwriter and work alongside Gustavo with writing songs for the band." Griffin told her with a smile.

Andi stares at him with surprise, her eyes widening and her mouth dropping open slightly. "W-What? I-I mean, I would love to, but I'm not a professional and I'm just an intern."

"You're not an intern anymore. That is if you're up for the job." Griffin replies. "I want you to help write the songs for these demos. I see potential in you and I know you could go far if you stick with us." He explained, watching as she seemed to think things over. He knew she was young, but she had talent and he could tell that the boys liked her. He could also tell she was good with them and they seemed to respect her. So it was a no brainer that he wanted her to help Gustavo with writing songs for the boys. Plus this song was great and if she worked with Gustavo to write this song, that meant they could work together to make some other great songs for the boys.

Andi stared at him with wide eyes, her heart hammering in her chest. This was a dream come true, but she was afraid to take it. This was her chance to have a career as a songwriter, but it was a lot of pressure. She could feel everyone's eyes on her, and she swallows the lump forming in her throat. "I-I don't know. I'm honored, but I'm not a professional, like I said before. Wouldn't you want someone with more experience? Someone who has actually worked on songs before?"

"No." Griffin responds in a blunt tone and walks over to her, putting a hand on her shoulder. "I want you, Andi. I know you have the talent to write amazing songs. With Gustavo's guidance, I know you two can come up with great songs for the boys." He pauses a moment to glance over at the boys. "They're going to need all the help they can get, especially if they want to make it big." He looks back at her with a smile. "So, what do you say?"

Andi looks at him and then the boys, her heart skipping a beat. She would love to keep writing songs for the boys, but could she handle it? Could she live up to everyone's expectations? Andi glances at her mom, who smiles and gives her an encouraging nod. That's all it took for Andi to make up her mind. She returns her gaze to Griffin and takes a deep breath, letting it out slowly. "Alright. I'll do it." She tells him. "But I'll warn you, I'm new at this and I'm not used to writing for someone else, so I'm not sure how well I'll do."

Griffin smiles and pats her shoulder. "That's alright. I'm sure you'll do fine, I believe in you. Just work hard and do your best. I know you'll make some great songs for them." He pulls his hand away and heads for the door. "I'll leave you all to it. I have to go. My pants are cold." He then left the room with his two assistants.

Kelly pulls her daughter into a side hug, kissing the top of her head as she gave her daughter a squeeze. "I'm so proud of you, Romy." She murmured, feeling a surge of pride for her daughter. She could tell that this was a dream come true for her and she was glad her daughter was taking a chance and doing this. It was scary and nerve wracking, but she knew her daughter could handle it and she knew that her daughter would do a fantastic job. She had confidence in her daughter's talent and her ability to do a great job and she knew that the boys would be in good hands.

"Thank you, mom. That means a lot." Andi smiled and wrapped her arm around her mom's waist, giving her a squeeze. She was relieved her mom supported her, but she was nervous about taking this step. She hoped she could be the songwriter Griffin was looking for and that she could work with Gustavo and write some good songs for the boys. She was nervous, but she was determined to make her new job a success. She would prove that she was good enough and that she had what it took to make it big.

Gustavo leans over to press the button to speak to the boys. "Guess who's stayin' in LA?"

Andi grinned as she watched the boys cheer and hug each other. They were overjoyed and their joy was infectious. She was glad they were staying and now she had a job working with writing songs with Gustavo. It was definitely a big change from being an intern, but she was excited and looking forward to what would happen next. She would prove that she could be a great songwriter and show everyone she had the talent and skill to be the best.

"Stop cheering. If you thought the last three days were hard, wait 'till you see the last three months. Carlos still can't sing, Logan still can't dance, and I still can't stand James." Gustavo listed things off that were wrong with the boys.

James looks offended and he steps forward to say something, but Carlos pushes him back. Kendall steps forward as he speaks up. "We'll work on it!" He reassured Gustavo.

"Okay, now you can celebrate." Gustavo told them and after a moment of silence everyone went back to celebrate.

Andi couldn't help but smile widely as she watched everyone celebrating and cheering. This was an amazing day and the start of an exciting journey. She had no idea what was going to happen next, but she knew that with the boys by her side, and her mom's support she could do anything. And she couldn't wait for what the future had in store for her and her new friends.

[chriswaddell]

BLOG 5 - September 16, 2023: “Nice Guys Finish Last.”

I feel weird writing this and if anyone saw it, it might be hard to understand with no context… but I have to get it out.

The last couple days have been pretty heartbreaking as I continue to make choices that I deem the “right thing to do” but have had significant consequences on my mental health. I’ll try to explain a couple of instances.

A few nights ago I had a conversation over the phone with a guy that I had been talking to and going on dates with. He’s from Atlanta. We’ll call him Dee. Dee wanted to know why I was being a bit more distant. I was guilty of putting a bit more space between us because I knew Dee was building stronger feelings for me and the vast distance between us would never allow for a successful relationship. So, I cleared the air with Dee that a relationship wouldn’t happen between us and that I had been sexually active with others and had been on other dates. There was no commitment between us, nor had anything became official… but in a weird way, it still felt like a break up. It hurt me so bad to break the heart of someone who had never wronged me in any way. But, despite my own sadness, I felt like it was the right thing to do.

Over the past month or so I’ve been talking to a person we’ll call Cee. Cee is nonbinary and a drag performer. An artist for whom I really enjoy the company of. Every date or hangout we shared together felt like the beginning of the rest of my life. Finally I can move on from the trauma of Logan’s death. The insecurities and feelings of worthlessness and most importantly, this dark, spiraling belief that I am destined to be alone forever. It was all letting go of it’s grip.

Every one of those giddy feelings and actions have been taking over my life. The feeling of being young, the flirting, the texts, the way we share a glance. The way their lips feel pressed against my own. The ability to relate on our lines of work. Everything has been feeling right.

Over the last couple of weeks, a few red flags were visible. “If into (their Twitter) you go, only pain will you find.” As I steal and alter one of my favorite Yoda quotes.. I’ll try to explain without great detail. On Cee’s Twitter, I found pornographic videos of them in sexual acts with men along with quite a bit if messaging spelling out the seeking of sexual attention. Knowing that someone you’re interested in has had or is having sex with other people is one thing… seeing it is one of the loneliest feelings I’ve ever had. However, the last post ask the readers something along the lines of “Have you ever had someone treat you so good… you’re waiting for something to happen (to ruin it)?” Something like that anyway.

It made me happy to read that because I realized that Cee liked me and recognized that I was trying my hardest to be so kind to them. I feel a similar way about nervousness regarding anything potentially blossoming from this. So, I wanted Cee to know I felt similar without knowing I found their Twitter. So I sent a message after a concert I took them too where I said it makes me nervous because good things have a way not working out, etc. Cee, interestingly, instead of telling me they felt the same… argued against that stance, interestingly, because that was their stance.

It was in that concert date where I had mentioned having gone on a bad date in Nashville a while back and Cee got upset with me. Said I wasn’t doing a very good job making them feel special. (I took them to see what they professed to be the greatest concert experience they’ve ever had.) So I don’t know. It was this same trip, where again, Cee reminded me that they were afraid that I had not moved on from feelings for my (dead) ex. That is a very valid fear.

All of that sets the tone for tonight’s adventure. Last night, Cee messaged me they were freaking. Out because their ride had canceled. Leaving them without a ride to a very important booking. I stepped up. The drive is more than four hours from my house. So, I stayed up all night with a headache getting what work I could get done as I had a show this weekend. Plus, early the next day, I had to go set up for it. I moved worlds to help Cee. I got two hours of sleep before rushing to get as much set up done as possible. I ran and rushed harder than ever to get Cee to their show. I pumped more than $120 worth of gas into the truck and suffered two headaches. But it was all worth it when I saw their face again. I swooned again.

About halfway through the trip, we switched time zones and I realized my calculations were off. They would be late. As I tried to explain what I had done, Cee interrupted and said “just tell me when I’ll be there so I know what to tell them.” This hurt me honestly. I was trying my best. Now I’ve been stricken with this unimaginable guilt. I shut down temporarily. I kept mentioning the time change and apologized at least three times, never to be met comfort or even a “it’s okay.”

Those feelings let up once we were at the show. I helped them pack all their stuff in and felt VERY out of place. It was no time that Cee asked me to help put together their props and if I would help set up the stage before their set. I obliged. When this eventually happened, I felt a weird sense of anxiety. That turned out fine. At least in a couple occasions while helping set up the props or running upstairs 3 different times to help Cee, they made statements that sound in tone and context like they were giving directions to a child. I still don’t know how to feel about this.

While downstairs, before the performance, Cee alluded to my being kind to them was an act. I very seriously said it’s not and noted how difficult keeping up an act like that would be after all this time. No statement was made further about that unfortunately. Before the performance, two of Cee’s drag companions were in the bathroom talking to Cee about how good looking I am and making what I thought were funny quips about “liking me.” I just ignored it. Cee hugged me with their body pair on and I reached up and dusted my shoulder off. They saw me and claimed that that’s a test. I guess insinuating that their significant other must not have to wipe away the flakey leftovers from their body paint??Later, after the performance, we were leaving I had both hands and arms filled with Cee’s belongings. It was loud due to a performance, it was dark and the walkway was extremely cramped. As we were going through Cee stopped for 2 seconds and said goodbye to a drag Queen that looked like the person that booked them to be in the show. I heard the booker thank Cee and Cee back. As I was walking by them, they patted me on the butt and said thank you.

I told Cee about it. And Cee brought up these people flirting with me and how I should’ve done something about it. Claiming again that I had failed this test. Going as far to say that their ex, Kevin “even knew to stop it.” What was I supposed to do? I was walking out the door. Following Cee. Hands full. And to bring up how your ex passed this test that I somehow failed… comparing my actions against his, while voicing how fearful you are being put up against the memory of Logan?! That’s not fair to me. At all.

Tonight, I was shown a side of Cee that not empathetic, not understanding, not gentle and showed no gratitude whatsoever. It frightens me. I really like them. Please tell me this is an off day and not an ongoing personality trait of them. I fall fast and hard and I don’t want to be broken again.

(I’m sorry for the longest run on sentence ever. I needed to write this and get it out. I have no one else to vent to. I’m alone.)

[fruitcoops]

I absolutely love your fics!!! Thank you for sharing your talent with the world. If you're interested, do you think you could write a fic where Finn gets injured in a game against Tampa? O'Hara brothers ftw ♥️♥️♥️

Ohohohoho yes. It's 'missing your big brother so you write siblings' hours, and all of you are trapped in here with me. Combined with prompts for cubs hurt comfort/ poly love (@hi-im-phoenix) and distraction hurt/ comfort for AJ. Sorry about your manager <3 SW credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for bone inJuries

The crowd was roaring. Finn couldn’t catch his breath. His arm was on fire.

Something like a sob broke free in his chest, but he could do little more than hiccup in pain and fear from his place laying flat on his back atop the unforgiving ice. He couldn’t move his fingers. His elbow throbbed. Everything in between just hurt.

“—fuck is wrong with you?” an angry voice shouted, followed by a flash of blue and white shoving at the man whose late hit had left him suspended in shock. Finn didn’t know if it had been on purpose, but he didn’t really care anymore as a tear tracked down to his ear. He couldn’t pull his eyes away from the bright lights overhead.

A hand cradled one side of his jaw, warm and clammy on his cold skin. “Talk to me, mon amour, what’s wrong?”

“Lo,” he croaked, swallowing hard. “I’m okay. ‘m okay, promise. I’m okay.”

“Out of my way!” The blue and white blob pushed closer before kneeling next to him. A helmet hit the ice, followed by a glove; heavy hands settled on his shoulders, and the one on his face disappeared. “Finn? Finn, look at me.”

Finn’s chest hitched once, twice, hard. His head was pounding, and everything hurt. He may have been able to reassure Logan, but he had never been able to hide from his brother. “Alex.”

“Hey, buddy,” he soothed as Finn finally regained enough breath to gasp around his tears. “No, no, shhh. You’re gonna be just fine, yeah? Can you tell me what happened?”

“Hurts,” he choked out, squeezing his eyes shut. The pain had reached his shoulder and every movement was agony. “It hurts, it hurts—Alex, it hurts.”

“What hurts?”

He could hear people calling for medics. His friends, his family. But Alex stayed right there next to him, holding his good hand and brushing his tears away. “My arm,” Finn said, feeling as pathetic as he ever had. “Alex, it hurts so bad.”

“Can you wiggle your fingers for me?” Finn sobbed again as he shook his head and saw the encouraging smile slide of Alex’s face. “That’s alright, buddy, just take some deep breaths.”

“I don’t wanna be out,” Finn blubbered. “I gotta play.”

Alex gave his hand a light squeeze. “It’s not that bad, Fish. Deep breaths.”

He managed a handful—and admittedly felt a little better—but the alarms in his head were still blaring when Remus arrived with the medic, all but carrying him across the ice to get to Finn. He had a smudge of a bruise beneath his eye, but the worry creasing his brow overtook anything else. “I’m good, Loops,” Finn panted as the medic sat next to him. “Totally cool.”

“28, I’m going to need you to make some room,” the medic ordered. Fear spiked in Finn’s heart when he met Alex’s gaze, but he found only determination looking back.

“I’m not leaving,” Alex said simply.

The medic glanced down. “Can you stand?”

“I think so?” Finn said hesitantly, trying to get cool air back into his lungs. “It’s—I think I broke my arm. Everything else is okay.”

“What’s your pain level?”

“Eight. And a half,” he added. Alex frowned.

“Let’s get you off this ice, yeah?” The medic patted him gently on the shoulder. “O’Hara, can you get him up?”

“Keep that one close,” Alex murmured, sliding his arm under Finn’s shoulders. He clenched his teeth around a cry of pain as his bad arm was jostled, but Alex was strong and steady, and within a few seconds he was on his feet. “Easy does it, bud. I’ve got you.”

“Fucking shit,” Finn wheezed as he tried to close his hand. The fear and adrenaline had faded, but involuntary tears sprang to his eyes anyway. Alex held him upright without faltering despite his wobbly legs; they made it to the bench in a blur of movement that made Finn dizzy.

“We can take him from here,” the medic said to Alex.

“I’ll be fine,” Finn said, cutting him off just as he opened his mouth. “Go play. Your boys need you.”

Alex pressed his lips together in obvious frustration, but tapped their helmets together and skated back to his own bench. Finn let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes for a moment. “O’Hara?”

“I’m good,” he assured the medic.

“If you feel like you need to throw up, let me know.”

“No. No, I’m good. Just hurts.”

He caught a glimpse of the clock as they headed down the tunnel—ten minutes left in the period. Finn steeled himself for a long stretch of being alone in a medical room and tried to focus on something over than the unbearable heat and throbbing in his arm.

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

Leo traced the edge of the splint with a deep-set frown, but said nothing. His other thumb ran in gentle lines up and down Finn’s waist, kept there by Logan’s side pressing close. “You’re sure you’re alright?” Logan asked softly as he placed a kiss on the corner of Finn’s mouth.

“I promise.” They had barely traded ten words—both had shown up the second the game ended, stripping off their pads and skates in the entrance to the medical room before sandwiching Finn between them. Leo had been unusually quiet. They had won the game; from what Finn saw on the television in the corner of the room, Alex had reamed out the guy that hit Finn with a vengeance. Tampa had been disjointed, and the Lions swept in as a cohesive pack, out for blood.

“I was worried about you,” Leo said at last, resting his temple on Finn’s shoulder. He sighed, then shifted impossibly closer. “Couldn’t get through the crowd.”

“I thought Talker and Loops were gonna kill that guy after he hit you,” Logan said with a shake of his head. “Looks like Alex did it for him.”

“What, you didn’t get into your shining armor for me?” Finn teased, nuzzling his nose against Logan’s cheek to draw even a slight smile from him.

“Maybe next time.”

“No,” Leo mumbled, linking his fingers with Finn’s purple ones and lifting them to his lips for a brief kiss. It was a clean break, but would still take weeks to heal. Big blue eyes landed on him, melting his heart like they always did. “No ‘next times’, okay?”

“Aw, Knutty,” Finn said, barely above a whisper. He wrapped one arm around each of them and held them tight, soaking in the feeling of having both crushed against him. “I’m sorry I worried you.”

Logan tucked his face into Finn’s neck. “Nothing to be sorry for, mon rouge. We’re just glad you’re alright.”

“Sorry to interrupt,” a voice said from the door. Alex shifted his weight back and forth, twisting his baseball cap in his hands like he always did when he was nervous. Finn didn’t hesitate before extracting himself from the cuddle pile and crossing the room; Alex met him halfway and engulfed him in a hug. A shudder ran through him under Finn’s palms. “Jesus, Finn, you scared the hell out of me.”

“Sorry,” Finn mumbled into his hoodie, letting himself be cocooned by distilled safety. Even out of his skates, Alex had a good two inches on him, and he had always been the broader of the two—Finn suddenly felt about six years old, as if he had just skinned his knee on the sidewalk.

“What’s the diagnosis?”

“Closed break, clean fracture. I’ll be out for a month or two.” He stepped back and swiped a hand under his nose, then tilted his head toward Leo and Logan with a wry smile. “But I’ve got these two to look after me.”

Alex scanned his face for a moment; his mouth dipped on one side. “I called mom and dad, told ‘em you’re okay. You should tell them yourself, though. They were freaking out.”

“I will,” Finn promised.

The worry creasing his brow didn’t diminish as he wrapped Finn in his arms again, holding him tight. “Keep me updated, yeah? If I don’t hear from you, I’ll get the captain on your ass, and he won’t be as nice about it as I will.”

“Deal.”

“Knutty, Lo, drive safe. If he tries to pull some stupid shit, I’m counting on your survival skills to stop it.”

“Survival skills?” Leo half-laughed.

Alex pulled away and raised his eyebrows. “They don’t call me Hurricane O’Hara for nothing.”

His eyes flickered back to Finn, who was horrified to see slight redness around the rims despite the teasing in his voice. “Alex,” he said softly. “I’m okay, I swear.”

“I know.” His voice was gruff, but it poorly hid a sniffle as he bumped their foreheads together. “But I’m your brother. It’s my job to worry about you. I hate that one of my guys was at fault here.”

Finn tried for a smile, socking him on the arm. “Six weeks, and I’ll be good as new.”

“I’ll hold you to that.” With a final survey of his face and a kiss to the top of his head, Alex headed back out into the hall with his shoulders up near his ears. Finn sighed; he hated it when Alex was upset, and even more when there was nothing he could do to fix it except wait. He didn’t know what he’d do if one of his teammates broke his brother.

“Fish?” Leo was smiling when he turned around. “I’ve got a surprise for you.”

“What kind?”

“The kind where I pull out all the sob story pity points on Cap’s soft heart and get us babysitting privileges for his incredibly fluffy dog after three months of constant begging.”

Finn’s eyes widened. “You’re kidding.”

“Make sure you look extra sad when we leave,” Logan advised. “We can’t lose this opportunity because you were too perky about a broken arm.”

“Quick, someone make me cry.”

Leo’s grin turned to horror. “What?”

“No!” Logan said at the same time.

“You guys are killing me here,” Finn groaned. “Just, like, hit me in the arm or something.”

“No!” they shouted in unison.

“You said I need to look sad!”

“I meant pout and sigh!” Logan pulled him over by the hem of his shirt in clear distress. “You’ve already cried too much tonight. No more.”

“Alright,” Finn agreed, already wracking his brain for any smidgen of drama skills he might have acquired over the years. Younger siblings were always the best actors, of course—he had given some Oscar-worthy performances to his mom when Alex got on his nerves as a kid—but Sirius was tough to fool. Maybe if he stayed quiet and didn’t risk opening his mouth they would get away with it.

Leo let out a slow exhale against his chest and snuggled closer before standing. “Come on, darlin,” he said with a kiss to Finn’s forehead. “Let’s get you settled. We’ll take a shower, have some dinner, and then we can put a movie on.”

“Mighty Ducks?” Finn asked hopefully.

Logan rolled his eyes. “Of course.”

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

it seemed the better way - chapter 7

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Janus, Romulus, Patton, Logan, c!Thomas mentions, Remus, Roman Rating: General audiences Relationships: Platonic everyone Warnings: Major character kind-of-death (the Split), arguing, breaking promises, nightmares, Logan is silenced, crying Word count: 3808 Note: Ty to @anxious-logic for betaing!!

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

start - previous - here - next - masterpost

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Chapter 7

For a few weeks after that, everything was… fine. It was fine. Romulus was noticeably cautious with the ideas he pitched to the group, his eyes flitting hesitantly to Patton every once in a while, and the ideas were just… nice. They were very nice. Patton liked them. And while Janus had to admit that Romulus’s ideas weren’t actually missing their usual flair, it still itched annoying under his skin that Romulus was so clearly changing them somehow for Patton’s benefit. That didn’t seem fair. All because Patton had gone and gotten so upset over something that really, Janus didn’t think mattered at all.

“Well—I hurt his feelings,” Romulus said, when Janus challenged him about it. “So I just, I guess I can be extra nice for a bit, to make it better, you know?”

“For a bit, though,” Janus pressed, seizing at once on this phrasing. “Not forever, right?”

“Oh. No, of course not forever,” Romulus agreed, making Janus relax. “Thomas needs me to make lots of things for him,” he went on with a worldly air. “I wouldn’t skip anything forever. But just for a bit it won’t hurt, I figured. And then Patton will feel better, and everything will be good again.”

“He’d get over it,” Janus said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, but he’ll get over it faster this way,” Romulus argued. “See? I know what I’m doing. And he’s our friend, anyway.”

“I know. But he’s being so dumb lately,” Janus whined. “He worries way too much about what the grownups think. Grownups are boring.”

“Yeah, but he’s nice too. He makes good cookies.” Romulus counted reasons off on his fingers. “And he gives good hugs. And he always is nice to us when we’re sad. And he plays with me when you’re all overwhelmed and need to be alone and nap.”

“He does?” Janus asked, feeling vaguely threatened, even though this made sense. He’d hardly have expected Romulus to just wait for him, or to play with Logan, who was rarely interested in imagination games.

“You don’t do it that much,” Romulus reassured him. “But sometimes yeah. Anyway, my point is, he’s our friend, so I’m helping him feel better.”

“Fine.” Janus shrugged. “Just as long as you’re okay.”

“I am!” Romulus assured him.

Sure enough, only a few days later, Romulus had Thomas go on a spree of fart jokes on the playground during recess. While Patton fidgeted and shot Romulus uneasy glances, he let this slide without actually raising any objections. Which was good. Patton hadn’t complained about a single idea Romulus had in ages, busying himself with other things he thought Thomas could do better; maybe he was just done with bothering himself about what Romulus did.

Maybe things really were getting better. If this kept up, all Janus would need to do would be convince Patton to drop his silly ideas about lies being bad for Thomas, and then everything would be back to how it ought to be.

And the pattern held. For a while, anyway. Romulus flitted back and forth between more of the safe ideas Patton liked, and ones with more and more of the sorts of things that made Patton wince and send him disapproving looks (which both Romulus and Janus ignored). But Patton didn’t challenge Romulus aloud, which Janus counted as a win.

It didn’t last.

Thomas, in a fit of daring, had gone along with it when one of his friends had snuck a scary movie from their parents’ DVD collection and offered to play it during a visit. Though the two had been caught only a third of the way into the movie, and scolded by both sets of parents, the imagery of the monster and the dead people had stuck with Romulus.

Thomas was asleep now, and nearing the state where he could dream, which was prime creative time for Romulus.

“Monsters,” Romulus was mumbling, sitting on the floor of the Mindscape living room and molding gory creations out of imaginary clay, which took on disturbingly lifelike forms under his hands. “Monsters and monsters and dead people. And blood.” He smeared gooey red all about one creature’s mouth. “Lots of blood.” He looked up at Janus. “They eat people up. I think—” He frowned. “I think I’m gonna make them eat Mom and Dad up, and then that’s the scariest thing that could happen, so the monsters will be less scary after.”

“That’s awful,” Patton put in, horrified, from the kitchen table.

“The movie was too scary!” Romulus said. “I’ve gotta make it less scary. This’ll do the trick.”

“We should just stop thinking about it.” Patton shook his head. “He shouldn’t have watched that movie at all. The faster we all forget about it, the better.”

“How about you leave Romulus alone and let him do his job?” Janus snapped. Perhaps he was being overly hostile, but he’d been shaken by the movie too and it had left him in a particularly irritable mood all day.

“His job shouldn’t hurt Thomas,” Patton said. He frowned at Janus. “Hurting people is bad.”

“It’s helping,” Romulus said vaguely, seeming more absorbed in his clay creations, which were beginning to make sluggish movements about the rug and come to life under his supervision.

“Yeah,” Janus backed him up hotly, “weren’t you listening? It’s going to help Thomas be less scared.” Admittedly, he had not entirely followed Romulus’s line of thinking, but he trusted him.

“It’s going to be a nightmare!” Patton protested. “Nightmares make him more scared!”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’d get it if you were smarter,” Janus retorted. “Just let him take care of it and stop being so pushy.”

“I help take care of Thomas too, you know,” Patton said after a long silence, a wounded look on his face.

Janus almost wavered, but that would mean nobody was there to back up Romulus. He squashed the spark of compassion for Patton inside himself and rolled his eyes. “Take care of making him boring, maybe.” He scoffed. “How’s it taking care of him to try and make everyone else here do things your way? Isn’t the point that we all do different things for him?”

“Can you both shut up?” Romulus asked. “I need to concentrate.” He put his hands together, then slowly pulled them apart, a glittery pink-and-yellow cotton-candy substance forming in the space between them. A dream; Janus had seen them often enough. Romulus trailed the substance over the tiny models of monsters and people, chasing each other around the carpet at his knees, and as it made contact with the subjects it was to absorb, the dark and bloody colors leached into the cotton candy glitter. It didn’t lose its sparkle, but the pastel sugary appearance was quickly subsumed by darker, more vivid colors, swirling together in a threatening mishmash of blood-red and shadow-dark and gooey-monster-skin green.

“Romulus, please—” Patton begged, fright pitching his voice high. “Stop it! Just stop it!”

“Can’t,” Romulus said, sounding distracted as he focused on the dream-substance, which had now grown into a whole cloud surrounding him. Like shaping bubbles in a bath, he carefully pushed it into a smaller area, heaping it upon itself and slowly climbing to his feet as he went.

“Stop!” Patton repeated.

Romulus shook his head, pinching at the very tip-top of the mound of dream, which was almost as big as he was. A trailing strand formed in his hand, connected to the rest and drawing from it as he lengthened it out. He rose up, vanishing from the Mindscape—he had to connect the thread of the dream to Thomas for it to work, and it would ravel itself out until the end once he did.

“Janus, please,” Patton said, rounding on him now that Romulus was gone. “You can’t possibly want Thomas to have a nightmare! You hate it when he’s unhappy.”

This was true. Janus fidgeted, not wanting to admit it under present circumstances.

“Romulus listens to you,” Patton went on. “You can make him change it, I know you can! This is bad. Why would you want him to just do something like this to Thomas?”

“Well, I figure he knows more than me about creativity,” Janus said, scrambling to come up with a good reason to explain why he’d side with Romulus over Patton here. “So I don’t try and take over his job just because of some little thing I made up.” He glared at Patton, crossing his arms, as Romulus sank back into the room.

“What are we fighting about?” Romulus asked, taking in Janus and Patton’s faces. “I was busy, I didn’t pay attention.”

“Oh, Patton just thinks you’re a loser and you shouldn’t be in charge of dreams anymore,” Janus said.

Romulus’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“No I don’t!” Patton looked just as shocked as Romulus. “I would never say that!”

“It’s basically what you meant, though,” Janus said coldly.

“No, I—well—not like that—I just—” Patton faltered under Janus’s glare, grasping for words.

“What’s wrong with my dreams?” Romulus asked, sending Patton a confused, hurt look.

“I just…” Patton took a deep breath and set his shoulders. “You made a nightmare, Romulus. A really scary one. I don’t think that’s good for Thomas. I—I think you should—um. Change it. And make it stop.”

Romulus frowned. “No. He needs it.” He shook his head. “He’ll just get more and more scared otherwise. He’ll keep thinking about it.”

“Not if we all try and make him think about other things,” Patton protested, which Janus found to be a very weak argument at best. ”And—and anyway, won’t he just think about the scary dream?”

“No, because the dream is gonna be fake,” Romulus explained. “When he wakes up, Mom and Dad will help him feel better, because that’s what happens after bad dreams. And they won’t be eaten by monsters, because that’s fake. So it’ll make the rest of it more fake, too. And then he’ll feel more better after.” He nodded, seeming satisfied.

Alright. That made sense to Janus. He was more on board with this plan, now that he understood it properly.

But Patton seemed more distressed than ever. “I don’t want to think about Mom and Dad getting eaten!”

Romulus heaved a beleaguered sigh. “Patton.” He stepped forward and put a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “It’s. Pretend. You don’t have to worry about it! Mom and Dad are going to be fine.”

“I don’t think this will fix it, Romulus,” Patton insisted. “It’s going to make it worse. You should stop.”

“You should stop telling him what to do,” Janus snapped. “He doesn’t tell you how to make Thomas decide what’s good and bad. Or how he should feel. Why do you think you should just run everyone’s jobs so much lately?”

“Why are you being so mean?” Patton asked, open hurt written across his face.

“I’m being mean?” Janus asked. He laughed, not caring that it did indeed sound mean. “I’m not the one trying to change everything Romulus does until he’s scared to even say his real ideas!”

“I’m not scared,” Romulus protested.

“Shh.” Janus waved him off, eyes fixed on Patton. “I’m not the one saying it’s bad for me to do my job and take care of Thomas and protect him! I’m not the one who only cares what Logan says when it matches up with what you want!”

“Patton doesn’t do that,” Logan said.

“Shut up, Logan.” Janus shot him a look. Couldn’t he see that Janus was trying to help all of them?

“Well, your argument doesn’t make sense if it’s false,” Logan said. “And Patton cares what I say usually. And he’s right, you are being kind of mean to him right now.”

“I said shut up,” Janus snarled. “You’re good at that. Always sitting there reading, ignoring us all until you’re tired of us just existing and you tell us to keep it down.”

Logan frowned, then inhaled and cleared his face. “I am going to ignore that, because you’re just yelling now,” he said, and picked his book back up.

“Go ahead,” Janus said nastily, “just ignore the things you don’t like. You’re good at that. Just like Patton. I’m sure that’s the most logical way to deal with things. Just ignore the parts that are inconvenient for you. Great job.”

Logan’s knuckles tightened on the sides of the book, and he held it up closer to his face to hide his expression from view.

“Janus, I think maybe we should all take a break,” Patton suggested.

“No,” Janus snapped. “You just want me to get tired of arguing and be quiet so you can pretend everything is all how you want. Pretend there’s no problems. Pretend you aren’t trying to tell Romulus what to do all the time. You pretend so many things! And they’re all fake!” He stamped his foot.

“Janus,” Logan said, lowering the book from his face and not making eye contact, “you are making things worse. Patton is right, we—”

“Shut up,” Janus snapped. “Patton is not right. Shut up and stop talking now!”

“But you—”

Almost without meaning to, Janus twisted one of his extra arms and slapped Logan’s own hand over his mouth.

“Janus!” Patton cried as Logan’s eyes went wide with disbelief that quickly shifted to rage and panic. “Janus, stop it!”

Logan tugged frantically at his hand, his book falling off his lap and landing on the floor with a loud thud.

Janus just watched Logan with cold satisfaction, holding his hand in place.

Patton took a deep, shaky breath, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Everyone is too upset right now,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “We need to take a break. Janus, let Logan go, and Romulus, just—just stop the dream, and we can talk about it later when we’re all calmed down, okay?”

Romulus frowned. “Why should I stop it? You’ve never made me do that before.” He stepped closer to Janus and crossed his arms.

“I—I’m not making you—” Patton faltered. “Well—well, but maybe I should.” He frowned and set his shoulders. “We shouldn’t be hurting Thomas. And that’s what nightmares do.”

“Hey!” Romulus seemed alarmed now. “I’m not hurting him—you weren’t listening!”

“How is this not hurting him?” Patton gestured at the pile of slowly diminishing nightmare on the ground, trickling out into Thomas’s mind.

“I dunno, maybe if you’d listened to him explain it you’d understand,” Janus said, crossing his arms to match Romulus’s.

“Listen—” Patton let out a frustrated noise. “Can we just stop it for a minute?” He reached for the dream.

“No!” Romulus gasped and darted forward, trying to push Patton away. “Don’t touch it!”

But Patton had already grabbed the dream in his hands, trying to pull the thread and break it off.

It didn’t break; instead, his pulling disturbed the heap of dream-material not yet spun out into thread, and sent the pile toppling. Cotton-candy glitter spread out across the living room, pooling and hovering about all the Sides’ knees like a cloud.

“Leave it alone!” Romulus snatched the dream away from Patton protectively. “You can’t stop dreams. You’re just changing it!” He gestured down at the dream where it lapped against Patton’s knees.

Pale blue tendrils were seeping into it everywhere it touched Patton—and the pale blue was mixing with the darker colors already there, getting mostly overwhelmed but turning them even nastier, more sickly shades.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Romulus said, hands on his hips. “Now your feelings are getting into it. And it’s going to feel way bigger and scarier and more real for Thomas. Because you are feelings. I only put the idea of feelings into dreams, never real ones. They’re too strong for dreams. You’re not supposed to touch these!”

Sure enough, if Janus paid attention, in the back of his head he could feel Thomas’s dream-fright intensifying.

“Why didn’t you say that before?” Patton wailed, staring down at the dream-substance all around him in terror.

“You weren’t listening, it wouldn’t’ve mattered if I did!” Romulus yelled right back.

Janus crouched and poked cautiously at the dream-substance. Yellow spooled out of his finger, mingling briefly with the colors before disappearing and being subsumed—but where it had been, the dream-colors grew brighter and more vivid. “Romulus?” he asked, nervous in spite of himself. “What do I do to it?”

“You’re fine,” Romulus said, not looking. “You just make dreams seem more real and exciting, since they’re not true and you’re best at that.” His eyes widened. “Wait, but if Patton’s got into it, that’s bad. I’m wrong. Normally you’re okay. Um, but not right this minute. Um, um um um. That’s bad. Oh no.” He looked back and forth between Patton and Janus. “This wasn’t supposed to be a big deal!” he said helplessly. “It was just supposed to be a regular dream!”

“See, Patton?” Janus snapped. “If you’d just let him do it his way, everything would be fine.”

“No it wouldn’t, though!” Patton shook his head. “It was still a really scary nightmare. It was going to make him cry!”

“You really weren’t listening, were you?” Romulus mumbled, kneeling and beginning to carefully collect the dream back into its heap. It seemed to be much more difficult for him to handle now, the material grown slippery and sliding off itself each time he piled some on top. “Well, it’s going to be worse now, because you didn’t believe me.” He glared up at Patton. “He’s going to be so scared.” He pointed at the bright blue still leaching outward from Patton into the dream. “And I can’t change it now. So none of us are having a fun time.” He shook his head and resumed trying to gather up the dream.

“Wow, Patton,” Janus said. “Looks like you trying to make Romulus do what you want made everything bad. Almost like you being so fussy about Romulus’s ideas was a problem. Isn’t that funny?”

Patton shook his head. “If he’d listened to me, none of this would have happened,” he insisted. “If you hadn’t encouraged him to keep making creepy bad things in his ideas, everything would be fine right now!”

“If I hadn’t—I never made him do anything! You did!” Janus retorted, indignant that Patton still couldn’t see that he was wrong.

“Well, I guess I didn’t do enough,” Patton responded stubbornly. “Since we still have to deal with this now.” He shook his head again. “I should’ve been better at helping him pick the right things.”

“Why do you think you know better than him what the right things are?” Janus snapped.

“Because it’s my job, Janus!” Patton shouted. “You keep saying I’m messing up everyone else’s jobs, but you don’t ever care about mine!”

“You two are making this a lot harder to get under control!” Romulus cried, still struggling with the mutating dream. Streams of rainbow color were spilling into it everywhere he touched it, and weren’t even getting mixed into the dream like Janus and Patton’s colors had, just staying and mingling with the other colors.

“Let me fix it, then,” Patton said, wading over towards Romulus. “Let’s change it so it’s not a scary dream!”

“No!” Romulus grabbed armfuls of the material and scooted backwards, away from Patton. “Changing dreams in the middle sucks and is so hard! It doesn’t even go right most of the time. That could make it much worse!”

“But it’s scaring Thomas!” Patton tried to grab some of the dream Romulus was holding. “You have to stop!”

Romulus gasped at the words, reeling backwards as if struck. He regained himself before he lost his balance, but his grip on the armfuls of dream slackened, and he was panting like he was winded. “Patton—”

“Patton, leave him alone!” Janus said, hurrying over and trying to pull Patton’s hands off the dream. “Just let him fix it back to how it was supposed to be, and stop trying to make him do it your way.” He yanked roughly at Patton’s arm.

“No!” Patton yanked right back. “He’s not going to fix it, he’s just going to make it still be scary! He needs to stop!”

“You need to stop,” Janus snarled.

“Guys—” Romulus began, sounding scared.

“Just let me fix it,” Patton repeated, stamping his foot.

“Guys, something’s wrong,” Romulus gasped out, sounding downright panicked now. “Put it down! Please.”

“Do it,” Janus snapped at Patton. “What’s wrong?” he asked Romulus.

“It’s all messed up, it has too much of me in it now!” Romulus gestured to the puddle of rainbow now surrounding him. “But I can fix it. Just let me put it back how it was—”

“No,” Patton repeated. “Not how it was! That was bad for Thomas!”

“Just do what Romulus says!” Janus snapped, grabbing the armful of dream from Patton in order to pass it back over to Romulus.

“No!” Patton grabbed at it again and pulled. Janus pulled right back, digging in his heels and refusing to let go.

“Romulus, you need to stop!” Patton shouted, and the dream material he and Janus were struggling with ripped in half, sending them both falling on their backsides.

Romulus shrieked. Bright white light, like when he shapeshifted, flared outward from him. It splintered, breaking apart into rainbow streaks.

“Romulus?” Janus cried.

“Romulus!” Patton scrambled up, reaching towards Romulus, so obscured by the light that they couldn’t even see him anymore.

The light flared brighter, rainbow colors flashing around and around. Two colors grew brighter than the rest, seeming to pull from the dream-colors on the floor, until the rainbow light was all red or green, flashing back and forth so bright and painful. Janus covered his eyes, the light too overwhelming, and he could still see the flashes through his eyelids and the cracks between his fingers.

“Romulus!” Patton screamed again, sounding panicked.

There was a final flash of light and a crack like thunder. Janus forced his hands away from his eyes just in time to see Romulus stagger and fall—

Something happened, and there were suddenly too many arms and legs, and they were breaking apart in ways that no one person should—

By the time Romulus hit the floor, he wasn’t Romulus.

Two boys, one dressed all in white with a red sun on his chest and the other all in black with a cluster of green stars, fell apart from each other where Romulus ought to be, and neither of them was Romulus even a little bit.

“Romulus!” Janus and Patton screamed in panicked unison.

Thomas woke up from his nightmare with a gasp and burst into tears.

[heyitssmiller]

Clandestine: Chapter Thirteen

Fitting that this is chapter thirteen. It was destined to be unlucky. And it was also the hardest one to write by far. Thanks for being so patient with me. One last cliffhanger, yes? For old time’s sake.

@lumosinlove your characters continue to live in my head rent-free, so thank you!

@donttouchmycarrots is my dude, my pal, my babe, and the best proofreader ever

Special thanks to @wonder-womans-ex for providing what just might be my favorite line in this chapter

Clandestine Masterlist

CW: violence, gun violence, nightmares, anxiety, mentions of food, injuries

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Logan woke up to Finn crying.

He was admittedly good at being quiet about it – he muffled any noise into his pillow, body turned towards the wall and curled up tight. It was the shaking that gave him away. Logan wasn’t sure what was going on at first, but his heart just about shattered when he realized. He rolled over to face Finn, pulling him gently into his arms and holding him close. His heart lurched as the redhead shuddered and buried his face in Logan’s chest, arms wrapping around him tightly as he sniffled. Logan screwed his eyes shut and breathed, nice and slow in an attempt to get Finn to match him. He wasn’t sure what was upsetting his partner, but he wanted nothing more than to fix it, to help however he could. Finn leaned further into him and stayed there for what felt like an eternity before he calmed down, breaths slowing and tears drying.

Logan could feel every swell of muscle, every gentle dip between his ribs, the eyelashes that were still wet and clumped together, the way his skin felt all clammy. He wished he could pull him even closer, hold him even tighter, even though there was physically no distance between them. Maybe Finn could find comfort in the confines of his arms, the way Logan had found safety in Finn’s.

“Want to talk about it?” he finally whispered, making Finn tense up again. He peered over Logan’s shoulder to look at their sleeping partner, then looked back down at Logan.

Sometimes Finn just took his breath away. Sure, his eyes were glassy and his nose was red from crying but he was still so beautiful, with muted light filtering through the curtains turning messy auburn hair into shiny copper, seeming to glitter in the sunlight. Big, brown doe eyes looking so incredibly soft as he stared down at Logan. He didn’t think he’d ever get used to being looked at like that. Like he was something to be cherished, something to be adored.

Logan felt his breath hitch.

“Hallway?” Finn asked, glancing back at Leo. “Don’t want to wake him up.”

Logan smiled. He loved learning how all three of them showed love and how it varied depending on which partner they were interacting with. Finn was more teasing with Logan, always throwing jabs and chasing them with happy grins and lots of kisses. With Leo he – well, he still teased mercilessly, but it was softer around the edges. The kind of affection that made him get all squinty-eyed because he was smiling so much and too-tight hugs because he couldn’t possibly hold back. Leo didn’t act that different when it came down to it, but he picked up quickly on what the two of them liked – intertwining his fingers with Finn’s as often as he could, running his hand through Logan’s hair time and time again. The constant motion of his hands was directed at the two of them instead of the lock in his pocket more often than not, a new soothing habit forming quickly. It was adorable. Logan wasn’t really sure how he was different, but he knew he was softer with the two of them more than he’d been with anyone else. He could feel himself turning into a sappy romantic and he wanted to hate it, but he really couldn’t.

Finn scrambled up reluctantly and Logan followed him across the room, nervous and itching to pull Finn back into his arms. He reached for Finn as soon as the door closed completely. “Bad dream?” His stomach dropped when Finn just nodded, biting down on his lip hard as his eyes welled up with tears again.

“I don’t want to go back there.” Finn admitted, voice a soft whisper in the silence of the hallway. Logan sighed and pressed closer, standing on his tiptoes just a little to loop his arms around Finn’s neck. Logan didn’t want to go back, either, but it was different for Finn. He’d been there for longer, after all, and Logan still wasn’t sure exactly what had happened during that time. Finn refused to talk about it, and Logan was too afraid to ask, as selfish as that made him feel. To top it all off, Logan had no idea how to help. Usually bad dreams were only loosely based on reality – but Logan had a feeling these were a little too real. They’d lived it, after all. To wake up from a nightmare and realize it was basically reality…

How could you comfort someone who’s bad dreams were all true?

“I know,” he said simply, lacking the words for anything else and running his fingers through Finn’s messy bedhead soothingly.

“We won’t be there for too long.” Finn said after a while. He seemed to be trying to comfort Logan with the words, even though he was the one who had been crying about it earlier. Logan ached for the redhead. He had such a big heart, always putting others before himself even if he was in a bad place himself. Logan needed to pay more attention, to pinpoint that evasion tactic and not let him get away with it. Everyone needed solace, even the ones who primarily did the comforting.

Finn’s eyes had closed sometime earlier, his head tilted to lean into Logan’s hand, his breath tickling the inside of Logan’s wrist. Logan wiped away a stray tear tenderly and sighed. Finn didn’t seem to want to talk about it. Logan wasn’t going to force him to talk, but he was worried about what would happen if he didn’t talk about it with someone. Sometimes it was nice to talk to someone with an outside perspective – someone who wasn’t in the thick of it like Logan was. So Logan reluctantly let it go for now and tried the next best thing: cheering Finn up.

“And it’ll be nice to bash some heads in while we’re there.”

That earned a laugh from Finn, and Logan felt such stark relief at the sight – it left him a little breathless. It was sad that a genuine laugh from either of his partners was so rare now. Logan felt like he needed to cherish them when they happened.

How depressing was that?

“Bashing some heads in is now on the list, I guess.” Finn murmured, placing a lingering kiss to Logan’s temple, who hummed thoughtfully.

“Do you even know how to throw a punch?”

Finn was in the process of kissing Logan when he said that, which just turned into a laugh against Logan’s lips. “No, but you do.” Logan could hear the smile in his voice. “And that’s way hotter than it probably should be.”

Logan looked up at him nervously to make sure he wasn’t kidding, then relaxed at the honesty in those mischievous eyes. Even upset and stressed, Finn somehow knew what to say to soothe worries Logan hadn’t even told him about. Being in a job like his… well it was ugly. It was brutal and violent and messy and not many people would want to be involved with someone like that – someone with bloodstained hands, too many paranoid tics, and a heavy, guilty conscience.

Finn and Leo didn’t seem to mind all that much, thankfully.

The realization made Logan grin sharply and nip at Finn’s lower lip before delving into another deep, intoxicating kiss. It was too easy, getting lost when he kissed Finn. So much of their surroundings faded away until all he was aware of was the feel of slightly chapped lips against his and hands holding his hips in order to pull him closer. Finn seemed to have that effect on Logan – he always had, ever since that New Years party. He was the kind of person everyone naturally gravitated towards, pulled in without a second thought. It was part of what made him so damn good at his job.

Finn breathed in sharply before kissing him again, heady and sure of himself and making Logan weak in the knees. All five senses were overwhelmed with Finn, Finn, Finn. It thrummed along with his pulse in a steady, loud rhythm. And yet his mind still drifted back to the bedroom with Leo, the thought of joining him back in bed tugging at him just as Finn broke the kiss and pulled him back towards the door, a knowing look in his eyes.

“Sometimes I’m convinced you’re a mind reader.” Logan smiled and willingly let himself get drawn back into the quiet, sleepy warmth of the bedroom. Finn just shrugged.

“Maybe I am.”

Leo was still sound asleep, sprawled out on his back with one leg sticking out from underneath the covers and hanging off the side of the bed at what looked like a very uncomfortable angle. Logan smiled at Finn’s affectionate snort, then followed him back to bed and crawled in the middle again. He curled up on his side, facing the blond as Finn pressed against his back and tangled their legs together. Leo’s hand moved up the bed, searching for Logan’s until he found it and then seemed to drift off to sleep again with a content sigh.

It scared Logan a little, how important the two of them had become in such a short amount of time. They were slowly invading more and more space in his head until his only thoughts seemed to be about them, all the time. Maybe it should be a little worrying, but Logan couldn’t find it in himself to be too concerned – not when the thoughts made his chest feel light as air and his stomach full of butterflies.

***

It was getting close to go-time, and everyone was on edge. The energy was palpable, like an electric current flowing through the group. Shoulders were tense, words were short and clipped, a sense of focus and determination in the air.

Leo had never been part of something like this. The only missions he’d been on were with Logan and Finn and that was it. Having a big group like this, all feeling the same things and wanting the same goal, it was intoxicating. It sucked you in and made you want to be a part of it, too.

But he couldn’t. He was stuck here, on the sidelines, left to wait aimlessly until everyone returned. That meant letting them go and resigning himself to a night of restlessness and worry.

Leo hated it.

He didn’t cling to his partners like he so desperately wanted to. If he did, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to let go again. He didn’t ask for empty promises of being careful, nor did he beg them to be safe. He couldn’t hold them to words they might not be able to keep. But he allowed himself to stare, just a bit. He let his eyes linger over Logan’s steady hands as he loaded his gun and methodically checked it three times, just like always. He watched Finn pull a clean shirt over his head and fiddle with the sleeves, seemingly lost in thought. Leo memorized what he could, just in case. The exact shade of Logan’s eyes, the freckle pattern across Finn’s cheeks and nose. He hated that his brain automatically jumped to worse-case scenario like that, but – well, considering the circumstances and what they’d already been through at the hands of the Snakes… could you blame him?

There was also this feeling in the pit of Leo’s stomach. He wasn’t sure if this was just the anxiety talking, but everything in that moment felt so decided, so final.

It felt like goodbye.

As if Finn knew exactly what was going on in his head, he drew Leo in for a hug and kissed his cheek, lingering for a second before leaning back to meet his eyes. They shared one of those looks – one that expressed a multitude of emotions without saying a single word. When Finn kissed him, it was deep and achingly slow. He was taking his time, wanting to make the moment last as long as he could. Leo knew the feeling. He fisted his hand in Finn’s shirt and pulled him impossibly closer, tilting his head for a better angle and softly running his tongue across the seam of his lips. A gentle rush, a quiet thrill, but still with a noticeable, tangible melancholy.

Leo could still count the number of kisses they’d shared on two hands. That wasn’t nearly enough for him. He wanted as many different types of kisses as he could think of – happy, teasing, soft, hard, tender, and everything in between. He wanted to lose count by the end of the week. He wanted to learn everything there was to know about his partners.

He just hoped they’d get that chance.

Logan pressed up against the two of them, slotting seamlessly into place. Transitioning from kissing Finn to kissing Logan was as easy as breathing – a simple turn of his head and a slight bend to accommodate for the height difference. It was the kind of kiss you were meant to remember. A whirlwind of sweet and passionate, deep and gentle, loving and regretful.

More than anything it just hurt.

Leo’s gut churned as he pulled back and looked at the two of them, lost for words. What was he supposed to say in a situation like this, after all? He didn’t think there was anything he could say to make this easier, or reassure them. Words didn’t seem like enough anymore – they just felt insincere and meaningless. Leo didn’t think he’d ever faced that problem before. Words usually came fairly easily to him, especially if something was important to him. But now they were failing him and it left him feeling even more lost, adrift in a raging sea that he had no idea how to navigate.

“Let’s do this,” Finn said finally, part resigned and part determined, before heading towards the bedroom door.

The rest seemed to happen all at once in a blinding flurry of activity. Goodbyes with the team were quick and rushed and then they were all loading up into cars, green and brown eyes meeting his every once in a while before the doors closed and the engines growled to life.

Leo watched the caravan of cars head down the driveway, then rushed across the wrap-around porch to keep them in his sights for as long as he could until they disappeared behind an outcropping of trees. He kept his eyes trained on the spot and clung to the wooden railing with a white-knuckled grip.

And that was where he would stay. If that was the last place he saw them, it would be the first place he would see them again. He didn’t care if he stood there all night until it bled into morning; he wasn’t moving an inch.

***

Sirius sat in the backseat next to Remus for the drive, which was silent and tense with rising adrenaline and battle plans running through everyone’s heads – especially Remus’. He could practically see his mind working. He’d been planning nonstop for the past two days to make sure that all the loose ends were tied up and that they were doing this the right way. Any illegal processes now could compromise the court trials that would come after putting the Snakes behind bars. Between that and coordinating between the other agencies that were helping them take down the Snakes, it was looking like a Herculean task. They could’ve pulled out the big guns and requested help from the FBI, but no one really wanted to do that. This was personal, after all – for pretty much everyone on the team. The feds could take over later, after everyone was apprehended.

Remus chewed at his lower lip, eyes trained on nothing in particular. The back of his head was highlighted in the headlights of the car behind them, illuminating in a startling contrast to the rest of the dark interior of the van. Sirius stared and stared until he just couldn’t help it. He reached over to turn Remus’ head towards him, then ran his thumb lightly over that abused lower lip until Remus let it go. Color seeped back into it, turning the pink a darker, cherry red. Again, Sirius stared. That mouth quirked into a teasing smile.

“You’re going to chew a hole in your lip if you keep that up.” He said and looked up into honey-colored eyes, slowly pulling his hand back. Remus just huffed under his breath – a short, nervous shadow of his normal laugh.

“Yeah. I could really go for some chapstick right now.”

Sirius smiled, pulling Remus towards him and kissing him gently, reverently. It still kind of blew his mind, how much things had changed in the past few months. Remus used to hate him. Well, maybe hate was a strong word, but they definitely weren’t friends. And now here they were, making out in the back of a van. Even though their mission was coming to an end and Sirius really wouldn’t have a reason to stay in Gryffindor any more, he could no longer fathom leaving. Remus played a huge part in that, of course, but Sirius also had friends now – real friends who didn’t try to use him constantly or only contacted him when they needed something. He had a home, as ridiculously cliché as that sounded. Nothing about Slytherin felt like this, and it made Sirius wonder if he’d ever actually had a place to call home before he found himself in Remus’ tiny apartment with the dying houseplant and the lumpy couch and an entire cabinet devoted solely to mugs.

The kiss turned softer until Sirius pulled back and just looked at him, an overwhelming rush of emotion in his chest. Remus wasn’t his home – one person couldn’t be all of that, Sirius knew that much – but he sure was a big part of it.

Remus licked his lips thoughtfully, tasting Sirius’ chapstick. “What flavor is that?”

“Pina colada.”

“Nice.”

That made Sirius smile again. “It’s going to be fine, Re.” Sirius reassured and tucked Remus against his side. It was an awkward squeeze in the back of a van, but neither of them cared.

“Yeah,” Remus sighed, sounding like he was trying to convince himself. “We’ll be ok.”

They both flew out of their seats a little when the van hit a pothole, smushing them closer together. Sirius pressed a kiss to his temple, soft and lingering, before speaking up again. “Do you want to talk through the plan once more?”

Sirius always found that talking through things helped calm him down. Saying the facts out loud tended to get rid of the unnecessary fears going on inside his head, plus it made him feel more prepared. And he knew Remus was the same way, from all the times he’d helped the analyst plan missions.

This earned him a soft, thankful smile and then Remus was off, talking a mile a minute about strategies and backup plans and anything else he could think of. Sirius let his voice wash over him and tried to ignore the dread settling in the pit of his stomach.

***

Leo didn’t know how long he stood there, gaze never once wavering from the treeline, when Hope joined him. She held out a mug for him, full of what looked like hot chocolate and a thick layer of whipped cream. Leo smiled faintly in thanks and took it before returning to his vigil. It was so quiet outside. No crickets like back home, no wind whistling through the trees, nothing. It set Leo on edge.

“So,” Hope mercifully interrupted the silence, “I heard you like to cook.”

Leo looked over at her, more than a little confused at the non sequitur. “Yeah. I do.”

She traced along the grain of the wooden railing, avoiding the chipping paint. “Those boys might be hungry when they get back, and that’s a whole lot of cooking to do by myself. Care to lend a hand?”

Leo snorted at the accidental pun and looked down at the hand trapped in a sling. He knew what she was doing, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be mad. He could definitely use the distraction.

“That sounds perfect.” He said and followed her inside, only casting one glance over his shoulder at where the driveway disappeared and the woods began before he joined Hope in the warm glow of the kitchen. Lyall and Jules were there too; they had the refrigerator door thrown open and seemed to just be staring at the contents. They looked so alike, standing side by side like that. The same slightly-bowed legs and identical shades of brown hair. Lyall gave his son a mischievous look, reached for the can of whipped cream, and squirted some directly into his mouth while Jules watched on with his jaw nearly on the floor.

“I didn’t know we were allowed to do that!” he gasped and snatched the can from his dad. A few seconds later there was whipped cream in his mouth. And on his chin, cheeks, a little on his nose…

Hope sighed good-naturedly. “You’re teaching our son bad habits and making a mess.”

Lyall just bent over laughing, a snort escaping every once in a while.

Leo smiled as Jules tried to get all the whipped cream that missed his intended target with his tongue, eyes crossing in the process. He took a sip of his hot chocolate and leaned back against the kitchen counter as Lyall kept pointing to places on his face that Jules had missed. Hope shared a look with Leo and rolled her eyes in a “what can you do?” kind of gesture. It was all so lighthearted and affectionate and exactly what Leo needed in that moment.

He wondered if Hope somehow just knew these things – it was definitely possible. Mother’s intuition and all.

“So what are we making?” She asked, tying her hair up while Lyall threw an apron over his neck. Jules was still working on the whipped cream.

Leo shrugged his good shoulder. “What do you have in the pantry?”

“So much!” Jules exclaimed, deeming his face good enough and throwing the pantry door open. “We’ve got pancake mix, potato chips, poptarts, hot dog buns-”

***

The take-down mission was going about as well as expected.

Which meant that it was going well, but it was also a chaotic disaster at the same time. Fitting, right?

Agents were everywhere, it seemed, outnumbering the Snakes at least three-to-one. The Snakes were scattering, running for the exits and fighting tooth and nail to get out – whether that was with weapons they had or just their fists, they weren’t going down without a fight. But even if they made it out, they were met with another line of defense waiting for them in the form of the Durmstrang agents.

Remus really had the op planned out to the last contingency, it seemed.

Logan and Finn were headed down an unfamiliar hallway, looking for stragglers to round up and escort outside. Most Snakes had joined the main fight to get out, sequestered in the entryway. Logan was glad they were tasked with this, though. There were too many familiar faces back there – Greyback, Lestrange, Snape. Logan wasn’t sure he was quite ready for that just yet. Between that and the sound of gunshots echoing in his head… well, let’s just say it brought back bad memories. And even though it wasn’t the best utilization of his skillset, he hadn’t been separated from his partner. He’d learned from experience what a bad idea that was. When this was all over, he wasn’t letting the two of them out of his sight for at least a week.

God, he couldn’t wait for this to be over.

Movement caught his eye and his gun was instantly up and aimed at the person. Yellow eyes landed on them and Logan held his breath, every muscle tensing and adrenaline spiking.

Logan knew they had direct orders to bring the Snakes in alive, but it was much harder to think about that when he was staring Riddle down from the sights of his gun. He knew exactly where to aim – he’d seen it mapped out on Leo’s chest, memorized the angry red wound contrasting against the gentle slope of his collarbone. A shot not intended to kill, but to inflict unfathomable levels of pain – another thing Logan had branded into his memory. A shot that was intentional, designed to send a message. And Logan definitely wanted to send back a reply.

Riddle recognized them and got this smug gleam in his eyes. “Long time, no see.”

Logan’s finger twitched against the trigger.

“Trust me, we’re planning on never seeing you again.” Finn said, then sighed dramatically. “And it looks like that dream is going to become a reality, since we’ve got all the evidence we need to lock you up for – what do you think, Logan? Two life sentences?”

“I’m banking on three.”

“But it’s not really up to us, now is it?” Finn shrugged. “If it were, I think you’d be dead by now, so I guess we’ll have to wait and see what the judge says.”

Riddle still looked remarkably calm. And it was that ego, that sense of infallibility that ended up being his downfall. “All the evidence you have is circumstantial. Any decent lawyer can get those charges dismissed.”

“Sure.” Finn’s smile turned lethal, knowing he had Riddle right where he wanted him, ready to deliver the final blow and relish in the aftermath. “But I think all that detailed information on the flash drives can put you away for a long time. Why seven flash drives, by the way? Lucky number?”

Riddle’s smile faded in increments as the realization struck. “That’s not possible.”

“Oh, it’s very possible. You can thank the guy you shot for that.” Finn said darkly. They watched the gears turning in Riddle’s head, then the way his face turned from pale to a sickly green. His hand went to the inside pocket of his jacket where his flash drive used to be – where the fake one now was, switched when Riddle had pulled a bleeding, agonized Leo close to taunt Logan and Finn through his microphone.

Yeah. Karma was a real bitch sometimes.

Logan smiled, grim but glad to finally be putting this guy behind bars. “You’re coming with us.”

***

“Yo,” Pots said into a phone, a grin almost too wide on his face, “we got some stinky bastards over here. Can you come get them please and thank you?”

Remus snorted at his antics, no doubt talking to the FBI since processing criminals was in their jurisdiction now and not Gryffindor’s. He almost wished it was on speaker phone – he would’ve loved to hear their response.

Remus found Sirius waiting in the parking lot, watching all the Snakes get corralled into transport vehicles and taken to whichever prison they were being kept in until the trial. Some of their own agents were by the ambulance getting tended to, but there weren’t any serious injuries, thank god. Talker took a superficial gunshot to the thigh and Kuny’s arm got grazed by a bullet but everyone else was fine. The element of surprise and the backup by the other agencies really did wonders. That and the fact that they were all armed to the teeth and not even thinking about leaving this job unfinished. They had a pretty good reason to win this round, after all.

He couldn’t believe it was all over. This mission had taken months and lead to way too many problems, but they were finally done with it. They could finally move on. Remus was thinking of taking the next week off of work and spending it at the cabin, just him and Sirius. A much-needed vacation sounded like a dream right about now.

Sirius’ back was to him, but he heard Remus coming and didn’t flinch when long arms wrapped around him, tight and secure. He leaned back into the familiar warmth behind him and let himself be held. He’d been great in there. Remus had been a little worried about letting him come, afraid that taking down people he’d worked with for years would be too hard for him or – even worse – that his presence would be a bright red bullseye for the Snakes. Luckily, there had been so many other agents and so much chaos that most of them had only noticed Sirius and Regulus in the aftermath, when it was too late to do anything about it.

“We did it.” Remus murmured, letting go and stepping around to gauge Sirius’ reaction. The raven-haired ex-Snake smiled at him, a hint of something warring with the relief on his face.

“We did.” He finally said, eyes flitting from Remus to the action around them. He still looked a little uneasy, after everything. Remus couldn’t blame him – sometimes it took a while for the adrenaline to wear off and for reality to set in. “Doesn’t feel real just yet.”

Remus grinned wolfishly, letting the victorious feeling wash over him. “It’s real.”

“Sirius Black?” One of the other agents inquired, causing the man in question to turn around.

“Yes?”

The agent pulled out a pair of handcuffs, looking very bored of the current situation. “You’re under arrest for the crimes you committed with the Snakes organization. If you could put your hands behind your back-”

Remus stepped forward aggressively, staring the agent down. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

The agent didn’t flinch. “Following orders. Even if he quit the Snakes, he’s still got to answer for what he did during his time there.”

“But he’s helping us – he’s a consultant for our agency. He’s got immunity.” Remus looked between Sirius and the agent, running a hand agitatedly through his hair at the blasé attitude of the agent.

“Take it up with my boss.”

It was all happening so fast. Remus was still reeling from the mission, his brain struggling to keep up with the new situation. The agent started to lead Sirius away when Remus shouted, “Wait!” He hurried to stand in front of Sirius, caramel eyes hard and fierce and determined with an underlying blaze to them as they met silver. He didn’t care if he was making a scene; he didn’t care who was watching. The only thing that mattered was the man standing in front of him, eyes resigned and – unsurprised.

He knew this might happen. And he hadn’t said a word about it. He came on this mission willingly, knowing this was the way it could end.

Remus would have to come back to that.

“I’m going to fix this. Ok?” Remus met his gaze firmly, letting the honesty drip from his words.

The ex-Snake nodded quickly, trustingly. The sight was a little nauseating, because what if there was nothing Remus could do? Sirius was counting on him now; he couldn’t stand the thought of letting him down, not when he was looking at Remus like that – like Remus could fix anything, when Remus knew damn well that he couldn’t. His chest seized up and he held his breath, gritting his teeth resolutely. He’d find a way. He had to.

Sirius was loaded into the back of a car, his brother already cuffed and waiting in the seat beside him – no doubt being charged for the same thing. Their faces were stony masks, tense and unreadable.

From the next car over, Riddle watched with a smile.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Unfurl and Fly

Prompt: Hello! I've been meaning to request this for so long but, you'd never posted any Sanders Sides fanfics till recently so I finally get to ask! = D

This is simply a request, but could you possibly to a Hurt/Comfort and Angsty o ed! Virgil fanfiction? Where he hides his wings for whichever reason you want- And it's *painful*, and eventually his wings get to damaged from constantly being hidden and self-groomed and other stuff of the sort and the others find out either accidentally cuz Virgil is in Too Much Pain, or Virgil reaches out- Just, take creative liberties with it! (Platonic LAMP all around- Or you can decide if it's romantic! Idc, whichever you prefer-) = D You can decide whether the others have wings or not, or if it's only the 'dark sides', or no one except Virgil, etc etc. I just have craved this for So Long in your writing specifically!

Whether you decide you would like to do this idea of not, that's fine! ^^ Just thought I'd suggest it! Thank you very much! = D - moonscar

Thanks for the request, babe!

Read on Ao3 The sequel: Soar

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, found family babes let’s go

Warnings: self-hatred, some implied self-harm, self-destructive behavior, poor Virgil is not having a good time, y’all. Sympathetic Janus, sympathetic Remus

Word Count: 7,932

Out of all of the Sides to have wings, why the fuck did it have to be Virgil?

 Come on, it’s not like it even fits with Anxiety, being able to fly? Having these big fucking things sticking out of his back? No thank you, that’s more literally anyone else’s thing! Roman would love it, he’s sure, soaring to great heights and all that. Patton’s the closest one of them to actually being an angel. Logan could use them to fly away from the bullshit.

 But nope. Virgil’s the one stuck with them. Isn’t that just fantastic.

Virgil grunts and pulls his hoodie on tighter, zipping it up over the sports bra. He growls and reaches back to tug the wings into place under the layers of fabric, hunching his back so the others don’t notice that there’s conspicuously more mass on his back than there’s supposed to be. Thank god he’s already known for baggy clothes.

 He has to walk carefully. Too much jostling and the wings’ll pop loose. He leans on the stairs as much as he can before making his way to the back of the couch. He looks around. No one else is here.

 Which would make sense, seeing as it’s three am.

 Virgil winces when something twinges in his shoulder blade. His ears strain to pick up the sounds of anyone moving; no floorboards creak, no doors open or close, no sinks or anything else. Shit. Fuck, it’s happening when he’s breathing now too.

  Shit.

 Wincing, Virgil unzips his hoodie and slowly, slowly starts to lift his shirt up, sliding his hands under the material to try and—

 A door opens upstairs and in a flash, Virgil’s hoodie is fully zipped up and his hands are back in his pockets.

 Patton walks downstairs, rubbing his eyes. He blinks lazily and turns to go to the kitchen.

 “Patton?”

 Virgil winces when Patton startles horribly, whirling around until his eyes land on Virgil, perched on the back of the couch.

 “You scared me, kiddo,” he pants, leaning against the counter before forcing a smile onto his face, “what’re you doing up?”

 Virgil shrugs, trying to hide his flinch when one of his wings snag against something. “Just couldn’t sleep.”

 “Aw, I’m sorry to hear that.” Patton tilts his head. “Anything I can do to help?”

 Patton…Patton might be nice.

 Patton would help, right? He—he’d care enough to help. Wouldn’t he? Patton had tried, so hard, when Virgil was first…around, just to make him comfortable, help him fit in, make him feel at…at home.

 But—but Patton is the kind of person who would do anything to help someone and Virgil…Virgil doesn’t want that either.

 Patton would see his wings—his ugly, dirty, huge wings—and look at Virgil with so much pity that he would be forced to help out. And the thought of hands in his wings was bad enough. The thought of unwilling hands in his wings was even worse.

 Not Patton.

 Virgil smiles, tightlipped in the dark. “No thanks, padre. ’S just the job.”

 It’s a little sad how quickly Patton nods. “I trust you, kiddo, if you say you can do it I believe you.”

 A sigh of relief lessens the ache in his shoulder blades for just a moment, then Virgil narrows his eyes. “What’re you doing up right now?”

 “Needed a drink!” And sure enough, Patton goes into the kitchen and grabs a glass. “You want one?”

 “…no, no I’m good.”

 “Suit yourself.” Once the glass is full, Patton yawns, his jaw cracking, before he walks over to ruffle Virgil’s hair. “You gonna try and sleep a little?”

 “Maybe.”

 “G’night, kiddo.”

 “Night.”

 Once Patton vanishes back up the stairs, Virgil holds completely still until he hears the door click. As soon as it does, he slumps, burying his head in his hands, ignoring the bolt of white-hot pain that shoots through him. That was too fucking close.

What was he thinking? He can’t be here, not now, not while they hurt so much.

 He sinks back to his room, biting his lip to stifle the noise when his wings slip under the bra. Now he won’t be able to get it off without hurting them—fuck why is this is fucking life?

 He has to go slow, agonizing second by agonizing second, until the bra lies crumpled at the foot of his bed and he’s panting, sweat beading on his forehead and two new gashes in his lip. He takes one shuddering breath, then two, then—

 “Come on, you assholes,” he mutters, “just…fucking cooperate for me.”

 His wings creak and groan as he unfurls them, stretching them out until his throat protests with the effort of holding back a scream. He bound them wrong this time. One of the tendons is twisted, slipped over the bone on his right wing and every flex threatens to rip it entirely. His eyes, screwed tight from the effort, blink away tears, catching a glimpse of himself in the mirror.

 He forgot to cover it again.

 Virgil winces when he sees the state of his wings. The primaries aren’t lying flat, the secondaries are all bent out of shape, he can see the loose feathers stuck in the rest of the mess, and his oil gland must be clogged again. He can hear everything rasping together, the creaking, and everything. He—he has to try again.

 Slowly, he sits down in front of the mirror, crossing his legs and sitting up as much as he can. He holds his wings out and winces at the sharp yank. Flexing his fingers, he reaches out with his hand and starts combing through his feathers. He can’t get the right angle no matter how much he twists his wrists and trying to hold the wing in place doesn’t work either. But he’s able to pull a few of the loose feathers out. It doesn’t matter that he plucks out several of the remaining healthy ones as well.

 Alright. Step one done.

 Virgil braces himself and twists, reaching out quickly for his wing before his back pulls away from him. He grabs it with two outstretched hands and can’t stop the cry of pain when another sizzling bolt races down his spine. He can barely hold onto it for three seconds before he has to let go. A roll of nausea makes him retch, hunched over himself, tears springing anew to his eyes.

  Pathetic.

  Can’t even clean yourself properly.

  Worthless.

  Useless.

  Dirty.

 The room rings with shuddering breaths as his chest heaves, the pain still zinging through his wings. He can’t. He can’t do it. He can’t clean them properly, not now, maybe not ever. He fucking bound them wrong, like an idiot and now he has to sleep on his stomach and if someone walks in they’ll see them and he won’t be able to bind them properly if they don’t heal and—

 The fucking worst thing about his wings is they always try and make things better. They twitch whenever he’s near someone he likes or bristle when he feels upset. And when he’s alone, all by himself, about to have a panic attack, they always try and hug him.

 So Virgil cries there, on the floor, surrounded by his ugly, dirty, painful wings.

 He sleeps on the floor that night too, a few pillows here and there to keep him from pressing his face directly into the ground, wings as outstretched as he can until he can ignore the pain long enough to fall into a fitful, uneasy rest. When he wakes, the joints are still tender and he curses, knowing if he tries to bind them again it’ll just get worse. That means a day of staying in his room, which by itself wouldn’t be awful except that the others would know.

 When Virgil was alone, he could have his wing day all by himself and no one would care. He could stay shut up in his room without fear that someone would come and knock on the door, wondering where he was, if he was okay, did he need anything? He’d tried, he’d tried so hard to convince himself that alone was better, alone was safe, alone protected him.

 But the others were magnets, always pulling him closer, closer, closer until he was bound within them. How was he supposed to pull away from that warmth, that care, when every time he was close to it his wings reached out? He had to start binding them when he first appeared to Thomas, yes, but it wasn’t until recently that he had to start binding them. Because they would reach for the others. All the time.

 He couldn’t have that.

 So he tied them up.

 And it was worth it. It was worth being able to stand next to Roman, to see that smile up close. It was worth being able to stand next to Logan, to hear him talk and explain everything he could ever want to know. It was worth being able to stand next to Patton, to feel warm and safe.

 The pain was worth it, even if it didn’t always feel like it.

 The others couldn’t know about his wings. If they did, they might—they would—

 Only dark sides had animal traits. If they knew Virgil had wings—

 Virgil shakes his head and groans into the pillow. He can’t go back. Not after what he’s done. He can’t—he won’t—there isn’t—

 He barely remembers being small. He remembers being scared, being afraid, fumbling in the dark, but he almost never remembers being small. Small enough where he didn’t know yet to be afraid to ask someone for help, when hands in his wings weren’t tied up with problems or intimacy or care or obligation. Small enough where he could cuddle into the lap of someone who loved him and not have to worry.

 He remembers getting older and being scared, huddling in the dark with the others.

 He remembers rubbing his hand over shedding scales. He remembers helping rub away the twitches in newly formed tentacles. He remembers hands, hands in his wings.

 Those memories are locked away, behind bars Virgil won’t let himself bring down.

 A knock on the door startles him out of his thoughts.

 “Yeah?”

  Fuck, does his throat sound like that?

 “Virgil?” Logan. “Are you alright?”

 “What the fuck is an alright,” Virgil mutters, pushing himself up off the ground and wincing, before raising his voice, “I’m fine, Logan.”

 “You didn’t come down for breakfast—“ shit— “and we were concerned.”

 “Didn’t feel like coming down,” Virgil tries, aiming for nonchalance and failing miserably, “but I’m all good here.”

 “Are you certain?”

 Logan…Logan would help.

 Logan would understand things from a logical perspective. He would be the most business-like about it, just doing what needed to be done and leaving. He might find it…interesting? He would get it over with.

 He would…get it over with.

 A human figure having wings is illogical. Virgil doesn’t want to be stared at like some sort of…object. And…and…Virgil wants to be cared for, not treated like a chore. The desire burns a shameful hole in his gut, the craving for soft words and gentle touches accompanied by flaming cheeks and a roll of disgust. He doesn’t think he’d be able to hold back the tears at being treated so…coldly, even if it would be better for him.

 Not Logan.

 “I’m sure,” Virgil grits out, “thanks, though.”

 “Of course. Will we see you for dinner?”

 Swallows before his tongue chokes him. “Dunno.”

 “Very well.”

 He hears Logan walk away and cringes. That was awful. But he’s made a commitment now, so he has to get ready for dinner. Four hours should be enough.

 Sitting up is a slow process and every few moments he has to stop when his vision grows spotty. He flexes his wings, watches the shape twist back for a few seconds before he has to relax it again. The ache has dulled slightly and maybe he can try again.

 Raising his arms straight above his head, muscles straining, shaking, Virgil bites his lip and holds for one, two, three seconds until he cries out and lets them drop. Nope. No way. If he can’t even do that, he’s not gonna be able to pull the sports bra over his head, much less get his wings tucked into position. He winces and looks around for the belt.

 He hates using the belt but it is easier on his shoulders. Instead of tucking the whole folded-up mess into the sports bra, he folds his wings up as small as they’ll go and wraps a belt around them, straining behind him and valiantly ignoring how much it hurts until he’s sure he’s got it around the joints. He lets go with a gasp, rolling his shoulders experimentally. It still aches, yes, but much less, and as he turns to the side, if he just wears a big enough shirt, with his hoodie on, no one will notice.

 That means he can use the rest of the time to get used to it.

 By the time he walks down to dinner, the others are waiting, Roman’s face lighting up in a huge smile as he sees Virgil round the top of the stairs.

 “There’s our little Stormcloud!” He waves Virgil over to the chair next to him. “Haven’t seen your gloomy face all day, I’ve missed it!”

 Virgil snorts. “You’ve just missed seeing another version of you, Princey.”

 “Can you blame me, Hot Topic?” Roman winks. “We’re gorgeous.”

 “The fact that we all share a face should not be surprising to you,” Logan remarks as he closes his book.

 “Aw, you think I’m hot.”

 “Pasta!” Patton places the pot on the table and Virgil winces when the sound makes his wings twitch. He doesn’t catch Roman’s concerned look. “Who wants what?”

 “Just olive oil for me.”

 “You got it, Logan.”

 “I’ve got mine,” Roman announces, sweeping half of the condiments on the table toward him and combining them in…a way.

 “…jeez,” Virgil mutters.

 Patton rolls his eyes fondly as Logan and Roman start idly bickering about the appropriate condiments for pasta. A steaming bowl slides to a stop in front of him and without pausing, Roman passes Virgil the jar of sauce.

 Virgil watches the jar slide to a stop in front of him, blinking up at Roman who just gives him a quick wink and goes right back to bickering with Logan. Patton giggles as Logan pinches the bridge of his nose, obviously trying to hide his smile as Princey grins. It’s a game now, to see which one of them will break character first. Princey’s the actor, but Logan’s got an incredible deadpan face. And when he’s in a playful mood the two of them can go at it for hours. Virgil and Patton just sit back to watch the show.

 As it turns out, both of them break character at the same time tonight, Logan stumbling over a word, and Princey accidentally slurring Logan’s name as he tries to come up with a comeback. Logan immediately tries to hide his smile behind his hand only to snort when Princey screws his face up in protest.

 “How did I manage to do that,” he cries, “I said—what the hell did I say?”

 Patton’s laughing too hard to answer and Virgil just shakes his head helplessly.

 Logan snorts. Tries to stifle it again. Then his giggles start to slip out. “D-damn it.”

 Roman gives up trying to stop his own cackles and throws his head back, letting it ring out. “We were doing so well, too!”

 “We were indeed,” Logan says through a smile, “perhaps we should try again.”

 “No, no, no, I won’t be able to get any words out before I’m reminded of whatever the heck my tongue did.”

 “What word were you trying to say?”

 “I don’t even remember.”

 Dinner gets finished and Logan stands to help Patton clean up. Roman leans back in his chair, stretching his arms over his head. Virgil watches him, his eye first caught by the movement, lingering when he sees the rush of relief on Roman’s face.

 Is…is that what stretching is supposed to feel like?

 “Stormcloud?”

 Virgil blinks. Oh. Oh, fuck, he’s staring. Roman stares down at him, his head tilted.

 “You’ve been quiet today, Stormcloud,” Roman says, too low for Logan or Patton to hear, “everything Gucci?”

 Nope. Princey’s not allowed to do that. Definitely not. He’s not allowed to sound that caring because Virgil will talk to him.

 “Everything’s fine.”

 Roman raises an eyebrow. “Uh-huh.”

 “Shut up,” Virgil grumbles, shoving Roman halfheartedly as he chuckles.

 He goes to pull his hand back but Roman catches it, making him wince when his wings jar. This time he doesn’t miss Roman’s look of concern.

 “Virgil,” Roman calls, “are you hurt?”

 Yes. “Nah. Just slept weird.” On the ground, in pain.

 “You don’t want me to sic Patton on you, do you?”

 Virgil shudders, ignoring the twinge in his wings again. “No. Nope. I’m good.”

 Roman chuckles, pressing a quick kiss to the back of Virgil’s hand. “Alright. You just come and tell me when you need something, hmm?”

 Roman…maybe Roman?

 Roman, who is desire and passion and so, so warm to the touch. Roman, who has tried so, so hard to make Virgil his friend, to care for him. Roman, who looks at Virgil with soft expressions and sly winks and is just so there.

 …Roman, who treated him like a villain. Roman, who Virgil knows struggles to keep his own head above water most of the time. Roman, who can put on a mask to rival any actor’s, who can hide everything so well they might never know what’s really going on.

 Not Roman.

 “…yeah, sure, Princey.”

 “Marvelous!”

 And despite everything, despite the pain in his wings and the belt digging into the soft points of his feathers, Virgil smiles, just a little.

 If this is what he has to deal with to be a part of this, then he’ll do it.

 Then Deceit shows up and Virgil panics.

 Not because of what this means, not because of how it’s going to affect Thomas, but because Deceit knows.

 Deceit knows that Virgil has wings. Deceit knows that Virgil is a dark side. Deceit knows that Virgil hasn’t told the others.

 He’s safe—at least he thinks he’s safe—because if Deceit tells them about his wings, he’d have to tell the others he sheds too. And Deceit won’t ever volunteer information about himself like that. Virgil has one moment of panic on the witness stand, thinking Deceit’s about to split his defenses wide open, but no, no, he’s wings stay tucked up, ugly and rumpled, Virgil’s very own dirty little secret.

 Luckily—or unluckily—there are too many other things to focus on for Deceit to let slip that particular little secret. Virgil is too worried about Thomas and Patton and Roman and Logan and everything to worry any more about his wings. He runs on adrenaline and worries for days, weeks, months until it’s all he can think about, over and over, coffee being drained as quickly as Logan can brew it.

 He plucks out his own feathers in the dark and washes the blood off the carpet. He strains to move his arms, his shoulders, anything, just to get a little more range of motion. He wipes the crusted salt from the corner of his eyes and grits his teeth.

 Then Remus shows up and does what Remus does best: wreak absolute chaos.

 Roman is knocked out, Logan gets a shuriken in the forehead, and Virgil tells Thomas he used to be a dark side.

 The second he sinks into his room after that he tears at himself, his hoodie thrown to the corner of the room as his wings groan and buckle and writhe as Virgil paces.

  Why did he do that why did he do that now he knows now they know now it’s going to be so much worse they’re going to hate me again I’m going to be alone alone is safe alone protects me but alone is cold and lonely and alone hurts it hurts I hurt make it stop please—

 He’s panicking, he knows he’s panicking, he knows he should go, go find someone, have Logan help him, talk to Roman, get a hug from Patton, but his wings are out, he can’t put them away and they hurt, they hurt so much, everything hurts so much, he just wants it to stop.

 Virgil collapses onto the floor, ignoring the sickening crunch as one of his wings buckles under his weight. It just…it just hurts.

 Thomas doesn’t say anything.

 Patton doesn’t say anything.

 Logan doesn’t say anything.

 Roman doesn’t say anything.

 Remus doesn’t say anything.

 Janus doesn’t say anything.

 And somehow…somehow that’s worse.

 It doesn’t get easier, it just gets repetitive.

 He doesn’t try to get the spots he can’t reach anymore. He knows he can’t get the oil glands cleaned. He washes them as best he can but he knows he can’t dry them properly. He wears the sports bra. He wears the belt.

 He endures.

 Then he fucks up.

 Janus has been watching him. In fairness, Janus watches everybody, but he’s been keeping a particularly close eye on Virgil. If Virgil didn’t know any better, he’d think Janus was suspicious of him, that he’d do something to ruin Janus’s seat at the table, or hurt the others, or try and turn them against each other. It would make sense, given their…history.

 But Virgil knows Janus better than that.

 He knows that look and that’s why he shies away from it.

 He lashes out and he hates himself for it. He scorns Janus’s attention and has to hold back a gag. He slams his door shut and claps a hand over his mouth to stop himself from crying.

 He can’t let himself stop now. If he stops he’ll fall apart. He’s been numb for so long he wants to stay numb, can’t start feeling it again or—or—

 He can’t. He just can’t. The dark sides may be accepted now but that says nothing about Virgil.

 Which is why it is so, so stupid that Janus chooses to stand next to Logan when the next session comes. Because he’s right there, so close, where Virgil can practically feel his presence prickling along his left side and he’s so glad he bit the bullet and wore the sports bra today because his wings are straining to reach for him.

 But then Remus pops up next to Roman and Virgil visibly flinches.

 He’s able to pass it off as surprise but the knowing look Janus gives him tells him Janus can see right through him.

 He shouldn’t be feeling this way. He shouldn’t. He left the dark side ages ago, he shouldn’t—this shouldn’t—

 He shouldn’t be aching for them. For all of them. His wings shouldn’t be bristling and yearning and his back shouldn’t feel like it’s splitting in two right now.

 His mind shouldn’t be filled with thoughts of the soft touches they would give him as the helped groom his wings, the gentle jabs and playful barbs tossed back and forth as they supported each other.

 He shouldn’t feel so cold.

 The debate is already going, Logan and Patton tossing things back and forth, Roman and Remus doing the same. Janus adds a comment here and there, Thomas frantically trying to keep track of all of them. It’s far too easy for Virgil to withdraw, sink into his head, focus on keeping his wings in, make them stop, ignore the ache.

 Someone shouts right next to his ear and without thinking, Virgil reaches out and grabs Janus’s cloak.

 He freezes.

  Fuck fuck fuck he fucked up he fucked up—

 Why the fuck had he done that? Was it just because he was scared? He’s Anxiety, he’s always scared, why had this made him do something he hadn’t done since he was tiny?

 He’s not some frightened child anymore, tugging on his parent’s clothes to beg for scraps of comfort. Is this what he fucking wants, to be coddled, told pretty lies about how everything was fine?

 Too late, he realizes he’s still holding on and tries to let go quickly enough that no one will notice.

 It only partially works.

 The others are too busy scolding Remus—who just looks very pleased with himself—to notice. Except for Janus.

 Of fucking course Janus notices.

 Virgil shoves his traitorous hands into his pockets. He hunches his back, not caring that it makes his wings strain against the fabric of his hoodie. The only one who could see them right now is Janus and Virgil’s already dug his grave there, hasn’t he?

 He just wants this to be over so he can go and Janus will stop looking at him.

 The video ends and he can’t be the first one to sink out of the common area, that will draw attention, he can’t draw any more attention, but the longer he stays then someone will ask him something and he doesn’t want to—

 Oh.

 He blinks. Is…is the room empty? Oh. He can sink out now.

 …or he could stay here.

The others tend to go cool off in their rooms after heated videos, just until they can all come out and make nice again. Virgil…Virgil has the common room to himself.

 “Virgil?”

  Fuck.

 “…hey, Janus.”

 “Hello,” Janus says softly, and no, no, no, don’t do that.

 Janus is being kind and it’s so hard for Virgil to just stand here and not let his wings rip out of the hoodie. He didn’t sink out, he stayed, of course he fucking stayed, Virgil tugged on his cape like a little kid—

 Virgil curses under his breath, collapsing to sit on the steps. He ignores Janus’s soft noise of concern and balls his hands up, beating out an erratic rhythm on his legs. His back hurts. His shoulders hurt. His wings hurt. Now his legs hurt. Now his hands hurt.

 Something grabs his hands and pulls them over his head. The searing pain tears a cry out of his throat.

 “Shh, shh—“ Janus, it’s Janus— “none of that now, sweetie.”

 “Let me go.” It’s meant to come out as a snarl but instead, here Virgil is, whimpering at Janus’s feet.

 “Will you keep hurting yourself if I let you go?”

 No, Virgil wants to lie, yes, he wants to say just to spite him, what comes out of his mouth is neither of these.

 “You’re hurting me,” he pants, “you’re—it hurts.”

 Janus is silent above him, still holding his arms firmly above his head. Virgil chokes back a sob in the agonizingly painful position, barely suppressing his cries enough to still his shoulders which of course did nothing to alleviate the pain. Then another hand—right, he has six—touches gently beneath his chin, guiding his head up.

 Virgil meets such an open expression of concern that tears spring to the corners of his eyes. He looks away immediately, only for Janus to crouch in front of him. He keeps a hold of Virgil’s hands but the release in his shoulders is enough to make him gasp.

 “Sweetie,” Janus calls, “sweetie, look at me.”

 “No.”

 “Virgil, I need you to look at me.”

 Gritting his teeth, Virgil looks up at Janus. Janus squeezes his hands once.

 “When was the last time you had your wings groomed?”

 Virgil’s heart drops to the pit of his stomach.

 “Y-yesterday.”

 “Did you do it yourself?”

 “…yeah.”

 “When was the last time someone else helped you groom them properly?”

 Virgil swallows heavily and doesn’t say anything.

 “…oh, sweetie, have you not had anyone help you groom them since…?”

 Janus doesn’t even have to finish his sentence before Virgil’s nodding, the shameful secret finally spilling out. It’s Janus, he rationalizes, he knows how to keep a secret, right?

 “Why haven’t you told them,” Janus murmurs, his voice broken, “why, sweetie?”

 “Because telling people things is always so easy,” Virgil snarls.

 Janus accepts it with a slow nod, reaching out to cup Virgil’s cheek. On instinct, Virgil jerks back, unable to get away from the touch because of the grip on his hands. Janus’s eyes widen.

 “…oh, sweetie…”

 “Don’t tell them,” Virgil blurts out, “please don’t tell them.”

 “You’ve been hurting yourself, Virgil,” Janus whispers, “so badly, I can’t let that continue.”

 “I’ll—I’ll fix it, I can fix it—“

 “You know you can’t do this by yourself, honey.”

 “I have to,” Virgil cries out finally, “I have to, I can’t—I messed up, I messed everything up, I have to do it alone now, I have to—“

 “What did you mess up, sweetie?”

 “You a-and Remus and I can’t—I can’t ask you ‘cause I messed it up so bad—“

 “Shh, shh,” Janus soothes instantly, reaching out with another pair of hands to cup Virgil’s face properly, “you haven’t lost me, sweetie, you haven’t messed anything up so badly. You know you can come to me for help, you can always come here.”

 “But you’re—“

 “What, sweetie,” Janus prompts when Virgil cuts himself off, “what am I?”

 Nope. Because Virgil can’t even use the dark side excuse anymore because now the dark sides are accepted. He has no fucking excuse. He has no justification for why he’s doing this. He’s—he’s—

 He’s hurting himself.

 “It hurts,” he whispers instead, “m-make it stop.”

 “Do you have enough energy to sink out, sweetie?” Virgil shakes his head. “Okay. I need you to stand up for me, honey.”

 Getting to his feet is a slow process, Janus murmuring encouragement as they go. He sets Virgil’s hands gently against the stair railing and whispers that he’ll be right back, he just has to grab some things, wait here, please? Virgil lets him go and clutches the railing for dear life, trying to keep the waves of nausea inside thank you very much.

 “What do you mean, you haven’t seen him?”

 “I knocked on his door, he didn’t answer.”

 “So?”

 “So I…tried the knob.”

 “Roman!”

 “I know, I know, I’m not supposed to, but I was worried and he isn’t in there, so—“

 “Wait, he’s not in his room?”

 “No! That’s the problem!”

 “Well then where is he?”

 “I don’t know, that’s why I came to find you two!”

 “Wait…Virgil?”

  No, no, no—

 “Stormcloud,” Roman breathes from the top of the stairs, racing down, “there you are, we’ve been looking for you!”

 “What’re you doing down here, kiddo,” Patton asks worriedly, “are you…you don’t look so good.”

 Logan hustles around the end of the stairs to face him and no, no, Virgil doesn’t want this, not now—

 “Virgil,” Logan calls softly and he sounds so much like he cares— “Virgil, are you having trouble standing?”

 Virgil nods jerkily.

 “Let’s have you sit down, then,” he continues gently, trying to cover up the shake in his voice.

 When he doesn’t move, Roman can’t help himself. He walks forward, his arms opening to hover around Virgil’s waist.

 “Can I carry you, Stormcloud,” he asks, “just to the couch?”

 What does he do? He can’t say no, not when they look so worried. They just keep asking questions, they’ll just—but Janus asked him to wait for him, but standing is so hard and they all look so worried—

 He nods again.

 Logan carefully places his hands around Roman’s neck as Roman scoops him into a princess carry, heading for the couch. He sits down in the middle, holding Virgil as securely as he can, looking up when Logan crouches in front of them, nervously adjusting his tie. Patton sits on his side, pulling Virgil’s legs into his lap.

 “What do we do?” Roman whispers. “I don’t—what do you need, Stormcloud?”

 Logan nods encouragingly, still looking at Virgil with his brows drawn until realization dawns on his face.

 “Virgil,” he says as he gets up to sit beside Roman, resting his hands on Virgil’s shoulders to encourage him to lean against him, “are you…is your ‘everything machine’ breaking?”

 Oh.

 Yeah, that’s what’s happening.

 It’s Roman’s turn to have the ‘aha’ moment when he nods, taking one of Virgil’s hands and tenderly pressing a kiss to it. Logan keeps a steady, grounding pressure on his sides as Roman carefully lies him on the couch, going to the kitchen.

 “Can you sit up? It’s perfectly alright if you can’t,” Logan assures quickly, “but it might be easier to drink something if you are upright.”

 Virgil nods.

“Thank you,” he murmurs, “we’ll go slowly, alright? If you feel dizzy or light-headed at any point, squeeze my hand and you can lie back down.”

 As promised, by the time they’re fully sitting up, Logan’s hand still on his shoulder, Roman’s breezed back in with a tissue box, a glass of water, a glass of orange juice, and a mini french loaf on a tray, set it all down on the coffee table, pulled the table close enough where he can perch on the edge, and reached out to take his hand again. Patton rubs encouraging circles into his knee, murmuring soft words of encouragement.

 Virgil can’t move. He doesn’t know what to do. He—they feel so warm, they keep touching him so gently, it—his wings are straining.

 He whimpers when Logan’s hand lands on his back and Logan moves away immediately. The loss of contact has him itching to reach out but he can’t can’t can’t—

 “Well.”

  Janus.

 Virgil blinks, and sure enough, there he is, standing with his hands clasped out of sight. Distantly, Virgil thanks that he’s still trying to keep Virgil’s secret, hiding whatever he has behind his back. He makes eye contact with Virgil and asks a silent question.

 Virgil can’t respond.

 “Janus,” Patton says, “do you—do you know what’s going on?”

 “Can we help,” Roman blurts, “with whatever it is?”

 Logan stays silent, gaze going back and forth between Virgil and Janus. Janus doesn’t take his eyes off Virgil.

 He’s waiting, Virgil realizes, to see if I’m going to let them help.

 …he doesn’t really have a reason not to anymore, does he?

 Logan leans closer, his lips barely brushing Virgil’s temple.

 “Please,” he whispers, “please, dearheart, let us help care for you.”

 Oh.

 Oh, fuck.

 “…help.”

 It’s loud enough for Janus to hear and he nods sharply, sitting down on the floor and holding out his arms. “You’re going to need to pass him to me. Be careful of his back.”

 It takes the other three to get him tucked up against Janus’s chest before they shuffle back, wary. Janus wraps his lowest pair of arms around Virgil’s hips, holding him close.

 “You just focus on me, sweetie,” he whispers, much too quiet for the others to hear, “and if you want them gone, you say so, okay?”

 “R-Remus?”

 “Remus is coming, sweetie, he found me looking for your things.”

 “You kept them?”

 “Of course we kept them.” Janus rests their foreheads together. “Of course we did.”

 Janus holds him close, whispers a few more soft words, until Virgil nods and lets him unzip his hoodie.

 “How, sweetie?”

 “…sports bra.”

 He can hear Janus swallow a noise of protest before he nods. “I’m going to have to cut them off, it’s going to hurt too much if we try and pry it off you.”

 “But—“

 “Sweetie,” Janus hushes, “you’re losing circulation, it’s not good for you.”

 Virgil shudders. “…does that mean you have to cut off m-my shirt too?”

 “Do you think you can hold your arms up long enough to get it off?”

 “…no.”

 Janus holds him tightly. “I’m so proud of you, sweetie, I’ll be gentle, I promise.”

 Against his better judgment, Virgil turns and tucks his head into the crook of Janus’s shoulder, breathing in the familiar scent. “…always are.”

 “I’m going to need the others to help me, help you, okay?” When Virgil nods, he can feel Janus look at the others, can feel the way his face changes.

 “Roman.”

 “Yes, I’m here.”

 “I need you to get Virgil’s hoodie off.”

 “O-okay,” Roman says, and Virgil can hear him shuffle up behind them, “is it already unzipped?”

 “It is.”

 “Here we go, Stormcloud,” Roman says softly, sliding the battered old thing from Virgil’s shoulders like it’s some fine silk garment, “you’re doing great…there. Where should I—“

 “On the couch.”

 There are a few more rustlings and then Janus’s mouth appears by Virgil’s ear again.

 “I’m going to cut them off now. You just hold still for me, alright?” Virgil nods and Janus squeezes him around the waist. “Good.”

 He turns his attention to the others. “Virgil has decided to trust you with this. I have decided to trust you with this. Betray that trust and you will not like the consequences. Am I clear?”

 Murmured assurances. Then the soft rip, rip, riiiiiip of fabric, and the pressure on his wings releases.

 Virgil’s sure Janus is talking from the vibration of his throat and he’s also sure the others are saying something back, but he can’t hear anything right now over the rush of blood in his ears from his wings unfurling, creaking, in all their ugly, dirty glory.

 He winces, tries to stretch them, only to hear a cry of dismay from over his shoulder and an ‘oh, sweetie,’ from Janus. The tendon snaps back out of place and his wings slump.

 “Virgil,” Janus says next to his ear, “Virgil, Remus is here now. Do you think you can explain what we need to do or would you like us to?”

 Virgil should explain. It’s his problem. It’s his responsibility.

 But…but it would be nice to not have to…for once. To…to let them take care of him.

 “…c-can you?”

 “We can.”

 He feels another warm hand on his bare side and Remus’s voice in his ear.

 “Hey,” Remus says, “you really are a mess right now, huh?”

 Coming at any other time, it would be an insult. But right now, laced with concern, Remus’s statement sends a rush of warmth down Virgil’s spine.

 “We need to get the tendon reset first,” Remus says. Someone shuffles over to join him. “You know what you’re doing?”

 “I think so.” Oh. It’s Logan. Logan knows what he’s doing. Good, good. “Hold still for us, dearheart.”

 “Ah!”

 “Sorry, sorry,” Logan stammers, “but we’ve got it now.”

 “You’re gonna be sore for a bit, little monster,” Remus says, “but Logan’s right. You’re all reset now. You wanna stretch it out? Carefully?”

 Virgil does, tentatively extending his wing and it—it feels better. Well, it feels bruised and sore and achy—but it feels better.

 “It…it’s back,” Virgil says in a strangled whisper, “it’s back.”

 “Yes, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “now let’s get you cleaned up.”

 Virgil drifts. In and out. He hears Remus explain how to straighten his feathers, feels two strong steady hands carding through them, Looks up to see Roman, expression more focused than he’s ever seen, sees that expression melt when he catches Virgil’s eyes. Plucks a loose feather out and lays it in a growing pile.

 Feels two more on his other side and looks around to see Patton doing the same, running his fingers through the primaries, secondaries, up to the covets, and through the scapulars. Feels his fingers linger just where the tips of the feathers brush Virgil’s bare back, stroking reassuring rhythms where he lands.

 Janus still has two of his arms holding Virgil in his lap. With Virgil’s nod, he slowly raises Virgil’s arms above his head again, letting the others have access to the rest of his wings. With his last two hands, he starts smoothing the bottom of his wings, lingering in the spots where Virgil winces, gently tugging and adjusting until everything’s just right.

 A flash of movement and he sees Remus over Janus’s shoulder, grabbing a spray bottle and two hairbrushes. He ruffles Virgil’s hair as he goes back around, warning him before he starts gently spraying Virgil’s wings, passing the hairbrushes to Roman and Patton with the instructions to try and get as much of the gunk out as possible.

 “You,” Roman murmurs as he works, “are magnificent, Virgil, just look at you.”

 “Don’t,” Virgil manages, “please don’t tease.”

 “I’m not teasing,” Roman promises, brushing a part of his wing that sends a shudder down his spine, “you’re…you’re—these are spectacular, Virgil, truly.”

 Virgil shifts in Janus’s lap. “…ugly.”

 “What?”

 “…they’re ugly.”

 “Of course they’re not, what do you…” Roman turns to him. “Stormcloud, who told you that?”

 “…me.”

 “Falsehood,” comes Logan’s voice from directly behind him, “your wings are indeed quite splendid.”

 “Because they’re interesting?”

 “Because they are a part of you,” Logan corrects softly, “and yes, because they are interesting.”

 “We love you, kiddo.” Patton reaches up to squeeze his hand. “That means all of you, even your wings.”

 Virgil opens his mouth to respond when hands slip through his feathers and every breath is stolen from his body.

 “Here,” Logan says softly, “are they here?”

 “Yep. Feel around in there a little, you should find the—“

 “Here.”

 Two thumbs swipe over the glands and Virgil shudders, right down to the tips of his wings. Logan pauses, leaning forward and doing it again. Virgil shudders harder, warmth shooting through his body, so warm, so warm. Then Logan’s hands start spreading the oil through his feathers and Virgil can’t.

 “Shh,” Janus soothes, holding him tightly, “shh, I know, sweetie, just hold on…you’re doing so well.”

 “Be gentle, Logan,” Roman orders, his gaze fixed on Virgil’s face.

 “I am.” Logan does it again and Virgil gasps. “This area is simply…sensitive.”

 Virgil swallows. “…haven’t…haven’t been able to…to…”

 “You have not been able to reach these areas yourself,” Logan finishes when Virgil can’t make words happen anymore, “and so the sensation is heightened by the newness of it.”

 “Y-yeah.”

 Then Roman’s hand brushes over his alula and he whimpers.

 “S-sorry.”

 “Would I be mistaken in saying this is quite…an intimate action?” Virgil shakes his head at Logan’s question. “Then you do not need to apologize. Trusting others with this level of intimacy is difficult, and you are doing very well.”

 “You are, kiddo,” Patton adds when Virgil makes a noise of protest, “and you don’t have anything to be embarrassed about. It’s okay that you’re sensitive, it’s okay.”

 “Is this alright, Stormcloud,” Roman asks softly as he keeps brushing the feathers, “can we keep going?”

 “Mhm,” Virgil mumbles, head lolling forward, “mhm.”

 “Good.”

 As they finish removing the clearly damaged feathers, the real grooming starts. Roman and Patton start gently tugging here and there to pull out loose and broken feathers, pushing the ones that are just slightly crooked back into place. The hairbrushes, with nice wooden spokes, split the feathers easily without a snag as Logan carefully works the oil throughout. Remus slips down, carefully spreading the oil over Virgil’s back, kneading out the tension from his sore muscles. Janus holds him steady, murmuring softly.

 Virgil floats, punch-drunk on the fuzzy feeling from Logan’s hands, Patton’s hands, Roman’s hands, Remus’s hands, Janus’s hands. It’s so warm, so warm, as he feels the lingering strings of hurt and tension slowly and persistently untangled from his wings.

 “I think that’s everything,” comes Logan’s soft voice an uncertain amount of time later, and yet none of the hands move away.

 “You’re so pretty, kiddo,” Patton murmurs, running his hands through the feathers, “so, so pretty.”

 “Guess you really did dig the purple, huh?” Remus gives Virgil’s hair a ruffle. “I think these are the best these have looked in a while.”

 Virgil shifts in Janus’s lap. “…yeah, well…”

 Janus shushes him. “It doesn’t matter, now, sweetie. It’s okay.”

 “You were hesitant because being vulnerable is hard,” Logan adds, still stroking up and down the joint of his wings, “that isn’t anything to be ashamed of.”

 Virgil opens his mouth to reply when Logan’s fingers skitter over the spot right under the joint and he cries out.

 “…Virgil?”

 Logan raises an eyebrow when Virgil simply shudders, his back arching. Slowly, he does it again, smiling when Virgil all but purrs.

 “I think he likes that,” Patton says quietly, “don’t you, kiddo?”

 Virgil whines.

 “Where else are you sensitive,” Roman murmurs, scritching his fingers lightly along the top of Virgil’s wing, “where else, Stormcloud?”

 “I don’t think he’s got command of words right now,” Remus chuckles.

 “If Virgil’s wings are anatomically similar to bird wings,” Logan murmurs, “then…”

 Roman’s hand is tangled in his alula. Patton’s hands are rubbing at the crook of his wings. Logan’s thumbs stroke over the oil glands again.

 Virgil’s mouth is suddenly very, very dry.

 Remus’s thumbs suddenly dig into the space between his shoulder blades, startling a short moan out of him. He hears a chuckle from over his shoulder.

 “Does that feel good, dearheart,” Logan murmurs, his nails scraping lightly over the soft skin where Virgil’s wings met his back, “right there?”

 Virgil’s only response is a long, low, drawn-out sound that would have been mortifying had he any control over his brain right now.

 “Oh, wow,” Patton mumbles from the side.

 Roman reaches up and wiggles his fingers next to Logan’s and Virgil keens.

 Janus chuckles, lowering Virgil’s arms around his neck and reaching out to scritch lightly at the marginal covets. “You’re about to get spoiled, sweetie,” he murmurs, “you just hang on, hmm?”

 Virgil wraps his arms around Janus and holds on for dear life just as fingers wiggle into his axillaries and he freezes.

 Then he melts, right into Janus, right into the hands in his wings, the sound physically being ripped out of his chest.

 Lips brush the side of his neck like the owner couldn’t stop themselves. The hand on his right twitches violently. From his left comes a long, shuddering breath.

 “Oh, Stormcloud—“ Roman, that’s Roman— “you best believe we’re going to spoil you all the time.”

 Just like that, everything multiplies. Pats, strokes, kneads, scritches, ruffles, so many so many so many gentle, adoring touches and soft voices in his ears and Virgil flies.

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