#vee isn’t the only player!! only player one

[rowynri]

sigh

[littlemissmentallyunstable]

title: the dancer and the angel part 2

pairing: grayson hawthorne x (first person) reader

synopsis: lyra kane is closer to your boyfriend than ever seen as grayson has just been put of her team in the grandest game and it’s making you a little nervous, you don’t trust her and you don’t want her too close to him

parts: part 1 part 3

warnings: mild swearing, SPOILERS FOR TGG

a/n: I had quite a few requests for a part 2, so here she is… trying to get into my productive era right now (fake it till you make it right??)

tag list: @tornqdowarnings @whatsamongus @wish-i-were-heather @inmyheaddd @never-enough-novels @sweetlikeanangel @lxvebelle @xoxo-vee @emelia07 @f4iry-bell @zaraaaabear @thoughtdaughter3 @benny1989fredd @elysianwayy77 @maybxlle @sheisntyou @anintellectualintellectual @aleatorio1234

RECAP

“Whose team is he on?” I say quickly.

“Odette Morales and Lyra Kane.”

***

Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. Lyra Kane. The name rattles around my brain, echoing off of my skull, only to replay in my mind again. Of course it just has to be Lyra Kane that he’s on a team with. That breathtaking woman with beauty that shouldn’t be possible for a human. Yeah, that Lyra Kane. I feel like laughing and crying all at the same time, so I express nothing instead. Why did it have to be her? Out of all of the players.

I’m not jealous, I try to convince myself, I’m just concerned. Yes, that’s it. Except it isn’t and the only person I’m lying to is pathetic little old me. I am ferociously jealous. It scolds me torturously, raging from the pit of my stomach, crawling under my skin to settle comfortably.

Grayson loves me, I know this. I felt the kisses we’d shared on the beach moments before he’d gone into the stupid house. They still linger on my lips now, I could taste him slightly, I’d heard him say he loved me, only me and yet I can’t get the feeling out of my system. The jealousy always manages to seep its way back in. I’m sick with a disease called envy.

I don’t want to be the jealous girl, the possessive one that people roll their eyes at or avoid. That’s not me. I didn’t want it to be me. But deep down I’m petrified that that’s who I’m becoming. I sigh, realising I was just going to have to swallow it. What could I do about it now? Besides I know Grayson, I trust Grayson. He wouldn’t let her try anything on, would he?

***

Hours of waiting and not watching. We couldn’t see the players at all. Or hear them. Anxiety is killing me slowly from the inside out, gnawing happily at my organs. I spin the ring on my middle finger as my leg jigs up and down, counting down the seconds until sunrise, four-thousand one-hundred and eight-two to go.

“You know you don’t have to look so panicked all the time,” Nash sighs, slumping down beside me.

“I’m not panicked,” I say, forcing a laugh.

“Sure darlin’,” he says, “my name’s Roger and I have a pet turtle.”

I roll my eyes, fighting the urge to smile, “I mean it, I’m fine.”

“It’s completely safe in there, we designed it that way,” he explains slowly, soothingly, “no one’s going to get hurt and there’s an emergency button just in case.”

“Okay,” I nod, exhaling.

I don’t believe him and his words don’t offer me much comfort. My overthinking brain is currently listing all of the ways Grayson could possibly die in the next ten minutes. But Nash is trying and I’m thankful to have him.

“At least pretend you’re convinced,” he drawls, a twinkle in his eyes.

Maybe I’m not convinced that everything’s going to be fine but I am convinced Nash has a sixth sense called ‘big brother knows all’ because for some reason he always knew everyone’s thoughts and feelings, even when they were trying to hide it. Either that or he’s a mind reader.

“I am,” I tell him, as convincingly as I could muster, “everything’s going to be fine.”

“Shit!” Jameson yells from across the room, perfect timing as per usual.

“What?” I hear Avery ask quickly.

“The powers gone out,” he says, smacking the table so hard I didn’t know how he didn’t break a bone.

“What do you mean the powers gone out?” I say, standing up and walking over.

“I mean they have no light, no heaters and they ate completely locked in by the mechanisms,” he explains, gesturing to the blank screens.

“We’ve lost all connection to them as well,” Xander murmurs, eyes darting from left to right at each and every screen.

“Everything?” I exclaim, trying not to get over-anxious and failing miserably.

“Yes,” Jameson confirms.

“You’re panicking her,” Nash scolds him.

“Well she asked I’m not going to lie,” he defends.

“Not the time to argue guys,” Avery rolls her eyes, getting back to the computer. Jameson follows her lead, trying to reconnect the lost signals.

“Shit shit shit,” he groans as more things shut off. He slams his hands down on the keyboard and starts guessing random buttons, “Xand help me out here,”

“Don’t you worry, dearest brother,” Xander replies calmly, “I’m working on it.”

Silence hits us like the dead. We’re all intently staring up the layers and layers of code coming up on the several screens. I can’t understand any of it.

“This is Python,” Jameson points at one of the scenes.

“Yeah and this is Java,” Xander nods, “but I have no clue what this is.”

“Shit,” Jameson curses, running a hand through his hair, reminding me of Grayson when he was overstimulated.

“Not yet,” he replies, turning to the other Hawthorne brother present, “Nash do you remember when I was in fifth grade-“

“The de-coder book?” he says before Xander even finishes.

“Please,” he nods sharply.

“Got it,” he replies, rushing out of the room.

“Do you have any idea what they’re talking about?” I whisper to Avery

“Absolutely none,” she shrugs, looking as clueless as me offering me some comfort.

“Who would even cut the power?” Jameson asks to nobody in particular.

Avery and I share a look. I already know we’re thinking the same thing.

“Grayson is in there, does she know that?” I ask quickly.

“I don’t know,” she replied, chewing the inside of her cheek

“She?” Jameson interrupts. We both ignore him.

“Don’t you think he’ll be her prime target,” I say, the worry warping my tone a little in a way that made me sound a little too vulnerable for my liking.

“Target?” Jameson says. We ignore him, again.

“Most likely, if it is her,” Avery sighs, tapping her bottom lip melodically.

Jameson looks at Xander, baffled, “are they speaking in code?”

“I’m kind of concentrating right now Jamie, please don’t talk to me,” he responds, not taking his eyes off of the computer screens as he attempts to decode.

“Who are you talking about?” Jameson raises his voice a little, forcing me and Avery to address his question.

“This could be Eve,” Avery says softly.

“Eve?” Xander says, freezing mid-type and actually lifting his head up.

“No surely not,” Jameson shakes his head in denial.

“Think about it,” I say, “who else can you think that would want go sabotage this game?”

“Anyone who fancies a good bit of money,” he states, “and it could be nothing at all.”

“A power cut isn’t nothing,” I argue.

“I hate to agree the circumstance,” Avery exhales, “but it’s true, this feels like a threat of sorts.”

“And we can’t contact the players meaning anything could happen right now,” I say, worry bleeding into my voice.

Jameson’s face softens.

“But they’re locked in,” Nash points out, sauntering back in, “no one is getting in or out, that means they can’t be hurt.”

He hands the decoding book to Xander who frantically flips through the pages to find something in particular.

“Windows can be smashed,” I point out.

“You think whoever this is would risk smashing a window,” Nash asks, with his eyebrows raised.

“I don’t know how these people work,” I snap, throwing my hands up in the arm.

“You’re shaking,” he says softly.

I look up to see my shaking limbs. Immediately they drop to my sides and I desperately try to still them, “no I’m not-“

“Breathe a little okay, Gray will be fine,” he reassures me, his tone placid, as he delicately takes my shaking hands between his.

“Look as long as they all stay put no one should get hurt,” Avery says calmly, “the glass on the windows are double glazed and harder to smash than the average window, that is if they’re going to risk that.”

“Besides Xander’s on it,” Jameson adds.

Xander sticks a thumb into the air, still audibly tapping the keyboard with the other, “whoever did this is incredibly skilled at hacking and annoyingly so,” he mutters in reply.

No one talks. We are all just stood in silence, barely daring to breathe not wanting to break Xander’s concentration. Mine and Avery’s hands are intertwined, gripping the others so tightly that our fingers are white. Xander is frantic. He’s practically sweating as he types quickly and clicks buttons I didn’t even know existed. And just when it seemed like he might be getting somewhere more and more boxes of undeciphered code popped up. I’m close to being hopeless when Xander leans back in his seat.

“We’re back up and running,” Xander announces, “lights, buttons, connections, locks, everything.”

Avery and I squeal, hugging each other tightly. Relief floods through my body and I’m giddy with it. Xander stands up and breathes out slowly.

I kiss his cheek in affection and gratitude, platonically, “thank you Xander.”

“You’re welcome,” he says.

“I owe you a scone,” Jameson tells with a slap on the back.

“That, you do,” he nods with a wide grin.

“What do we tell the players?” Nash asks, reminding us that the game is still going and the players will be wondering what the hell just went on.

“Do we tell them the truth?” Xander asks.

“We don’t even know the truth,” Jameson tells him.

“Then we tell them what we know,” Avery says, “Nash?”

“You got it kid,” he nods.

Xander slides an arms around me.

“Sorry ‘bout that folks,” Nash drawls through the microphone, “brief technical snafu on our end, but we’re back. You still have sixty three minutes until dawn. As long as at least one team makes it down to the dock by the deadline, the rules still stand.”

It’s fine, everything will be fine. Three thousand seven hundred and eighty seconds left. I rest my head on Xander’s shoulder and he puts his head on mine. I think he’s the only thing that’s holding me up at the moment. If he weren’t I’m pretty sure my body would be some sort of odd shaped puddle of consumed thoughts on the carpet. Only one sentence goes through my head, over and over and over. I can’t wait to have my arms around Grayson again.

***

It’s almost sunrise when we make our way to the dock so we’ll be there for when the players make it out. If they make it out. I walk in between Xander and Nash, trying to keep up with their obscenely large leg strides. Avery and Jameson lead the way holding hands. My heart squeezes, it won’t be too long before I see Grayson again. I know it seemed stupid, we had only been apart for a few hours, but those hours had felt like weeks given all of the events that had taken place. Not to mentioned the long prolonging wait of which I couldn’t see or hear him.

And there was still something going around in my head. Something about him being with Lyra Kane for this long in such close proximity. It was grating at me, but I push the feelings down and bury them under a mound that I’m trying to ignore.

“Want to have a bet?” Xander ruffles my hair, stealing me from being consumed by my own thoughts.

I slap him away, “I’ve heard it’s dangerous to wager with a Hawthorne.”

“What’s my brother been telling you?” he asks.

“Mum’s the word,” I wink back, tapping my nose.

“What’s your bet on little brother?” Nash asks.

“What team will make it first,” Xander grins, mischievous glint in his eye.

His brotehr grins towards the sky, “had a feeling it might be.”

“I’m bias then,” I scoff.

“Okay so your Hearts,” Xander says.

“Hang on I never agreed to this bet,” I exclaim, holding my hands up to surrender.

“Whoever wins gets a scone,” he bribes me.

“That only benefits you,” Nash points out.

“Actually I would also benefit, I like scones,” I smile sheepishly,

“See? Who are you voting Nash?” Xander asks.

“I’ll go with Clubs, I’m rooting for Gigi,” Nash shrugs.

Xander nods, “that means I’m going with Diamonds.”

“You don’t have to,” I tell him.

“Yes I do, otherwise it’s uneven,” he says. I wasn’t going to argue.

“Who would your original vote gone to?” I ask.

He smiles at me, a cheeky glint in his eyes, “no one shall ever know.”

“What are you three wittering about,” Jameson says, interrupting the train of conversation as he turns around.

“Probably something better than the lovesick whispers you two are sharing,” Xander teases.

“Xand-“

The thumping of footsteps cut him off. It’s a race. Hearts and Diamonds are out. Savannah is the fastest, Rohan hot on her heels. Though Lyra takes them both over in a matter of seconds. She must be a runner. Would explain the to-die-for figure. Grayson is close behind her thought Odette trailed behind slightly, but for a woman of her age she’s doing remarkably well. They all arrive within milliseconds of each other, breathless and rosy-cheeked.

“Congratulations Diamonds and Hearts, you’ve made it,” Avery smiles.

“Where’s Clubs?” Savannah asks, its only then I notice how her longs blonde hair has been chopped off unevenly. It makes her look even colder than before, sending a chill down my spine

“Still playing,” Jameson says.

“Gray,” I breathe in relief, as he takes me into his arms.

Something about the hug feels unnatural maybe even slightly uncomfortable, but I brush it off. We’d both been awake for far too long. I couldn’t trust my judgement on this little sleep.

“You okay?” I murmur into his shoulder.

“Fine,” he replies, so only I can hear him.

“Good.”

It hit sunrise and something sinks in my stomach. Clubs haven’t made it. Gigi is out of the game. This is going to destroy her. We all wait in silence. All knowing Clubs have failed, all knowing the disappointment we’d have to see on their faces. My heart is thumping loudly in my chest, I can hear it in my ears. I grip onto Grayson’s hand tightly. I catch Lyra’s honey golden eyes. She looks me up and down as I narrow my eyes at her. I can’t read her body language towards me, it was difficult to make out what she was thinking or feelings. I turn away and try not to think too much of it.

There’s sound coming from the left of us and in the distance there are three figures. Everyone’s eyes snap to the three remaining players who’s hearts are probably all sinking in realisation that they were nit longer players in this game. Then I notice what’s in Knox’s arms or rather who… Knox is carrying a bleeding Gigi. My stomach twists. Grayson freezes beside me.

“Put her down,” Grayson says sternly, his voice commanding authority.

Immediately Knox gently places Gigi down, making sure she was stable before he completely let go. We rush to her side immediately. Grayson putting a protective arm around her shoulder, his eyes flitting between the gash on her head and her face.

“Oh god Gigi,” I murmur tentatively touching her bloodied head to assess how severe it is.

“I’m fine,” she winces, blinking back tears.

“You are not,” Grayson says, his voice hard almost empty, “you’re injured Gigi.”

“Who among us is not occasionally concussed?” she says happily.

“Our team is out of the game, go ahead say it we’be been eliminated,” Knox says turning to Avery.

She ignores him and approaches Gigi, “are you okay?”

She nodded with a smile laced with the pain he thought she could hide. Maybe it was invisible to the others, but not to me. I’ve been under the same mask she’s trying to hide behind now. I understand. Grayson keeps his arm around her and I keep my hand in hers. She squeezes my palm and I squeeze hers back. I’m here, I wanted to scream, I’m here for you.

“Diamonds and Hearts, you’re onto the next phase of the game. Clubs… there’s always next year,” Avery finally brings herself to say.

“Once a player, always a player,” Jameson adds.

***

I don’t leave Gigi’s side until Nash has patched her up properly. ‘Stay with her, please,’ Grayson had murmured after we’d shared a quick kiss. He’d had something to discuss back at the dock with Odette. And Lyra. So I did, I stayed by Gigi’s side through every wince, every hand squeeze, every stitch.

“All patch up darlin’,” Nash nods, tipping his cowboy hat towards her slightly.

“Thanks,” she smiles brightly, it’s an unnatural fluorescent brightness that she radiated. Too bright, too artificial.

“You feeling okay?” I make sure, looking at her head.

“Fine,” she replied, gently feeling over her stitches.

Before anyone can say anything else there is a sharp knock at the door interrupting the thread of conversation. Nash answers. Brady walks in. Something was off about that guy. I got a bad feeling when I was around that guy. Nash gets up to leave and as much as I want to stay, it’s not my place to and I know that.

“Holler if you need anything,” Nash tells Gigi.

“We’re not going far,” I reassure her.

“Don’t worry about me,” she beams up at me, though the smile doesn’t quite reach her eyes, “really I’m fine.”

“I think we both know that’s a lie,” I say, my voice so low I’m not sure if she can hear me.

The way her eyes soften, revealing an ounce of vulnerability, indicates she has, “can we talk later? Maybe on the boat back?”

“Of course we can,” I say, squeezing her hand in mine one last time, before standing up to leave her to talk to Brady.

She nods with a small smile which I return, then turn to follow Nash who’s holding eye contact with Brady intensely. As soon as we’re out of the room and a few paces down the corridor Nash blurts out, “I don’t trust him.”

“Neither do I,” I grimace, at least someone else had picked up on Brady’s sketchy vibes, “he gives me a weird feeling.”

“Same here kid,” he nods in reply, then pauses slightly before saying, “you go and find Gray, I’ll be close by if she needs me.”

I fumble over my words. How did he know again? He has to be some sort of mind reader. I make a mental note to discuss it with Xander.

“Are you sure?” I ask quietly.

“I’m sure,” he says, placing a brotherly hand in my shoulder, “I know you’re still worried, you’re horrible at hiding it.”

“Thanks Nash,” I chuckle, brushing hair out of my face,

“No worries kid,” he says, shooting me a lopsided grin as I rush off to reunite with Grayson.

***

The boat left for the mainland at noon, that was when Gigi, Knox and now Odette were leaving, as she traded her place for Brady’s. But the players had been told to try and get some rest before the next phase. I’d also been up all night and could feel myself growing tired, so Grayson and I were currently laying on our bed in each other’s arms. It feels nice to finally breathe a little. I don’t feel the weight of stress from my jealousy or guilt or worry, I just feel normal.

“Do you think Gigi will be okay,” I murmur into Grayson.

“Nash is used to patching up our ailments,” he responds, his tone a little distant. It made me iffy.

“Yeah but I mean after being cast out of the game,” I reply, “I know I wouldn’t feel great if I were in her position.”

“I don’t know,” he murmurs, blowing out a short breath.

“I’m worried about her,” I say quietly.

“Me too,” he whispers, “I’m really worried about her.”

“I think we’re going to talk later,” I tell him, hoping it might provide himnwith some sort of solace.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” I confirm, “I hope she might get whatever it is that’s hurting her off of her chest.”

“Make sure she’s okay for me, okay?” he makes sure, “no matter what.”

“Of course,” I say, a little confused. Why had he said it like that? Like something bad might happen? Like I might lose him? I brush off the feeling. I put it down to overreacting, as usual.

We fall into a long silence as I trace different shapes on chest with my finger tip. I slowly drag it along, with no specific shape in mind. A blank expression is present on his face and I can see he’s deep in thought. There’s something on his mind and I have a horrible feeling it has something to do with the unseen, unheard happenings of the grandest game.

“What’s on your mind?” I ask him, doe-eyed.

“Hmmm nothing,” he says, refusing to look me in the eye.

“You sure?” I press on.

“I’m sure,” he says, planting a kiss on my forehead.

The kiss was off and I could see something was bothering him but he didn’t want to tell me, I’d wait until he was ready. Even if it were forever.

“What was it like in there?” I ask, attempting to change the subject, “the game.”

“It really was the grandest game,” he whispers, “like nothing I’ve ever experienced before.”

“Really?”

“They outdid themselves thoroughly,” he says.

“I bet,” I nod, nuzzling further into him affectionately.

“You really couldn’t hear or see anything the whole time?” he asks, a hint of worry delicately woven into his tone. It was so brief you would’ve missed it if you didn’t know him. But I know Gray.

“Nothing, it was like hell,” I say with a small tired laugh, “it was killing me that I had no clue if you were okay.”

“I was fine,” he replied quickly, almost curtly.

“Well I know that now,” I yawn and feel my eyes begin to close slowly but I fight to keep them open.

“You’re tired,” Grayson says, the ghost of a smile faintly touching his lips.

I shake my head in denial, “no I’m not,” I protest, “not even a little bit.”

“Go the sleep love,” he whispers.

“I want to talk to you though,” I pout, rubbing my eyes.

“We‘ll have plenty of time tomorrow,” he says, playing with my hair.

“Okay,” I murmur, letting myself fall into a dimension of much needed sleep, finally with my love back in my arms.

***

I wake up in the middle of darkness, though there is light desperately trying to make it through the black out blinds. I wonder how long I’d been asleep for, it couldn’t be past noon though. I’m aware of the coldness on the other side of the bed. Grayson wasn’t there. It wasn’t exactly uncommon. Usually when we were home, if it were the early hours he would either be swimming or having a wander and a read to make himself tired again.

I hear the door handle turn slowly and the sound of his all too familiar footsteps hitting the floor. I crawl out of bed, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, as I make my way toward him. Though as I do he stands still, frozen, like he can’t move. Concern latches onto my throat.

“Are you okay?” I whisper, tentatively touching his arm.

He recoils away quickly, like I’ve hit a tender nerve or a bruise of sorts.

“Are you hurt?” I ask worriedly

“No,” he murmurs, his voice stone cold.

It hurts a little more than it should, he’s never usually so blunt, so cutthroat. Not with me anyway.

“Where have you been?” I say, fishing for an honest reply.

He meets my eyes for the first time. Swimming in endless pools of grey is a mournful sorrow, “I’m sorry.”

His voice cracks. Grayson’s voice never cracks.

“Gray?” I say in a ghost of the whisper, the word not even feeling real once it is said. My pulse quickens suddenly and a large lump that I cannot swallow forms in my throat.

He’s pale, his face is regretful. Hollow. Lifeless. My heart sinks. I already know.

“Tell me,” I say, my voice shaking nearly breaking like weak houses in an earthquake.

He shakes his head glossy eyed, “I’m sorry. I never wanted to hurt you, I never meant for it to happen, I-“

“Tell me,” I grit through my teeth trying to prevent the thick emotion building up in my chest from overflowing.

There is a long pause. A deadly silence that seemed to last for days.

He parts his lips and utters the words, “I kissed her.”

It’s like a masked killer has dragged me from the comfort and safety of my own bed in the middle of the night, taken me into the thick of the wood where the vegetation is overgrown and no one will ever hear you scream. The part where it’s hard to see the sky or tell day from night and where no birds sing. And once we’re there, he takes a sharpened knife, laced with the most excruciating poison and slowly opens the left side of my chest, carefully ripping out my beating heart full of blood to destroy in his hands at his leisure. Grinning as her leaves my broken body to bleed out, dying heartless and lifeless. It’s like the person under that mask is Grayson. The one person I put all of my love and trust into. The one person who I thought would saved me from the masked killer is the masked killer. What a fucking joke.

“Who?” I ask, my tone low, dangerous, angry, “who did you kiss? I want to hear you say it.”

“I kissed Lyra,” he whispers, tears rolling down his cheeks, a state I’d never witnessed him in before. But right now I’m too broken to care.

My heart shatters into a million pieces on the spot. And then I am numb with agony.

a/n: so that was a fun ending :) hope you enjoyed part 2 my loves <33 and thanks to everyone who requested it, I’m sorry it took me so long to get around to it

NOTE I DONT THINK GRAYSON IS A CHEATER!! LIKE AT ALL. MY BABY WOULD NEVER!! but I thought I’d spice things up a bit yk, for the ✨drama✨

ALSO the de-coding thingy when the power went out if probs completely wrong on my part but I was allowed to drop computer science last year and I did ;) so I was just waffling, I know nothing about computers other than they can type, play music and they provide me with google and amazon

TIG masterlist

[staticintone]

Ta da! Finally the RAM Wishlist, not including plots already in motion! Very much a self-indulgent little list, and some of them may involve more than one player or a multimuse willing to take on more than one. I am also willing to throw my Vox or Velvette into the mix as well.

Pocket Universe Ideas:

Vox:

—The directives start to falter. No regaining of memory exactly, but things start slipping through the cracks.

—Give me a circumstance where Alastor has to break his promise and redo the Ordeal. I want him to struggle with that and treat Vox very differently as a result.

—Alastor goes too far and actually hurts him. Almost a one-sided fight.

—Give me any opportunities for Alastor to break his own directives, especially about Vox’s love for him. I want to see just how much it changes the dynamic between them, if at all.

—Vox breaks down and Alastor has to help him but quickly starts ignoring him.

—Alastor breaks down and Vox has to deal with it somehow. Could be extermination related.

—Obsessed with “I thought you were dead” plots. Please give it to me one way or another. Could get super twisted considering how possessive and protective Alastor is here.

Niffty:

—Soft interactions with a whole lot of implications.

—A rare situation where Alastor actually loses his patience with her. Would have to be plotted heavily in advance.

—He stops her from doing something and she snaps at him, showing bits of the person she used to be.

—Or the above but she resorts to childlike behavior. “I hate you!”

Charlie:

—A conversation where Alastor thoroughly convinces her that the Vees are to blame for Vox.

—The reverse, where she leaves the conversation positive that Alastor is lying.

—A confrontation when she discovers the truth.

—What if he actually convinced her it was for the best? I’m not sure how that would happen, but if someone’s interested we could try to plot it out.

Husk:

—Husk finally confronts Alastor on the state of Vox and Niffty, whether out of genuine concern or righteous anger. This could end very badly, be warned.

The Vees (Valentino and/or Velvette):

—They have to meet up for one reason or another in public and play nice. Can involve Vox or Charlie or someone they don’t want to upset.

—Or, you know, they could fight.

Any Character:

—Someone ask him if he’s dating Vox. That’s funny to me and only me. Could even be Vox if combined with other ideas.

—Someone gets ahold of one of the broadcasts and broadcasts it again. Will most likely end badly.

Multiverse Ideas:

RAM’d Vox:

—I really want one of the Voxs to get clingy and start demanding that Alastor stop RAM’ing other Voxs because he doesn’t want to share Alastor any more than he already has to.

—One of the Voxs who’s meant to go back to their Alastor freaks out and demands to stay with RAM instead.

Non-RAM’d Vox:

—I really want a Vox to try and figure out what Alastor does by agreeing to see the Ordeal firsthand. Not being RAM’d but watching him do it to someone else. There are so many possibilities here.

Alastor:

—I want RAM Alastor to hand over a RAM’d Vox to his “keeper” and the Alastor actually appreciate it for a while. Until, you know, it becomes an issue later. Would involve a couple of people, and quite a bit of three way plotting. That or a multimuse or my own Vox maybe. It would probably be a long thread too.

Niffty:

—A canon Niffty figuring out the differences between her and RAM Niffty could be super interesting. Her meeting RAM Alastor could make her question her own Alastor in the process (which could be my main verse or something).

Charlie:

—Ask him why he has more than one Vox. Someone has to deal with all the extra TVs around here.

Angel:

—An Angel outside of the RAM sphere isn’t necessarily bound by NDA. Start questioning Alastor and everyone around him.

Valentino:

—War of the gaslighters, especially if Alastor can get under Valentino’s skin because Vox loved him first and he actually “won”.

Lucifer:

—What if I just RAM’d the King of Hell? How disastrous would that be?

Any RAM’d Character:

—Something goes horribly wrong during the Ordeal. I don’t know what but either your character dies or gets wrecked beyond all reason.

—Something goes wrong during the Ordeal in the opposite direction. It absolutely fails and your character deals with the consequences in a completely different way.

Any non-RAM’d character:

—Try to steal his Voxs. Obviously they’d have to agree to it too, but you know.

—Try to kill Alastor and fail. As of now, the only one who I’ll allow to kill him is Vito, but I want a fight that ends badly for everyone involved.

[lampmanliveblogs]

While the rest of the Hexside students distract Kikimora, our heroes have just enough time to draw up the complicated teleportation circle… with a bit of help from Luz’ palisman, who has yet to take on its true final form.

Kikimora is able to shake off the attacking kids long enough to take one last shot, just as Luz activates the teleportation array and and a brilliant flash of light, their whisked away from danger and into the vast cranium of the Titan.

There they stand now, under The Collector’s Archive House, so close, yet so far away. For I fear that the hardest part is yet to come…

Listen, I don’t know anything about Star Trek, but I do know that ”Beam us up Scotty” is a Star Trek reference. So yeah, shoutout to that, as well as Camila coming out as a fellow Cosmic Frontier fan, which also doubles as a light-hearted reference to the fact that Hunter, like O’Bailey, is a clone.

And let’s not forget Amity and Willow being best friends again, that’s super precious too. You love to see it.

Alright, first things first, I love the guesses the squad had.

Camila guessed a dragon, because dragons are THE fantasy creature, and she knows how much Luz loves her fantasy books.

Hunter guesses a bird, not just because of Flapjack, but because Eda (and the rest of the Clawthorne family) has a bird palisman.

Amity guesses an otter, which is a callback to Enchanting Grom Fright, when Luz wondered if she should go to Grom dressed as an otter… with a dark side!

Willow guesses a bat because…. because… um… Bat-Queen? Maybe? They did have that excursion in the Bat-Queen’s forest back in Escape of the Palisman.

And finally, Gus throws out snake. And I’m going to be honest with you guys, I might’ve maybe had a few hints at what Luz’ palisman was gonna be. Enough to figure out it was a snake, or more accurately, snake-related.

As far as in-show foreshadowing goes… at the top of my head, last episode we had a bunch of snake imagery around Luz. We had her finding the ”snake pajamas” in Camila’s nightmare/flashback, we had Luz wearing that shirt with a staff and a snake on it, and I think she might’ve had a drawing of a snake in her notebook? As far back as episode one of season one, Luz was playing with snakes and I think Camila might’ve even said something about Luz making some friends that weren’t reptiles. That’s not even to mention the fact that Luz’ newly adopted sister is a snake.

So yeah, there’s been plenty of snakes around Luz. But of course, this isn’t just any old snake, it’s a…

A SNAKESHIFTER. You guys know I love a good pun. And just like Vee, this little cutie is a shapeshifter. Which is so perfect for Luz, the child of two worlds, a chaotic being, always on the move.

Her name is Stringbean! Now, David ”Stringbean” Akeman was an American singer-songwriter, musician, comedian, and semi-professional baseball player. String bean is also one alternate name for green beans. You can also call them haricot verts, if you wanna charge extra.

So yeah, I gotta agree with Luz here: she’s perfect! She is Luz' own infinite potential given physical form.

Now that things have calmed down just a little, Willow takes the opportunity to thank Hunter for his words before, he really helped her, and he means a lot to her too. and then they blush and almost hold hands and it’s so cute.

In fact, it’s almost a little too cute, I’m starting to get nervous here. Because surely, they’re gonna end the episode on a cliffhanger, and there’s only just over a minute left of the episode…

But before that, I’m gonna get what might very well be the last cute screenshot of this episode.

Look at the babies! Look at them!

Aaaaaaand there we have it. Good vibes ended. The camera pans upward to The Collector overlooking our heroes, with Raine still possessed by Philip looming behind them, ready to whisper yet more poisonous words into the ear of the Lord of the Fireflies.

”I think I wanna play a new game.”

And with a snap of their fingers, The Collector ends the episode right then and there as everything goes black.

Treat me like I'm evil Freeze me till I'm cold Beat me till I'm feeble Grab me till I'm old

Fry me till I'm tired Push me till I fall Treat me like a criminal Just a shadow on the wall!

[desmondkane-of-ao3-fame]

Does Luz/Vee ever introduce the boiling cast to any tabletop games?

I do think Luz would be into some roleplaying games, probably surrounding anime or Azura, but those would involve too much commitment to fandoms the Hexsquad doesn’t understand (except Amity, who Luz would roleplay Azura and Hecate with constantly). But I also think Vee and her friends would be into a game the Hexsquad would love: Delvers and Demons!

(Think D&D but somehow more demonic and therefore better.)

Vee would bring home a bunch of old D&D books she borrowed from Masha (not explaining the black lipstick on her cheek) and beg to DM a game; she’s only been a player but DM’ing sounds fun and would give her a chance to use her basilisk shapeshifting to play new fun characters. The Hexsquad (plus Skara because I said so) agree to play, and their adventure begins!

•Amity plays a High Elf Wizard who ran away from her terrible mother to find anything resembling happiness in the world, while Hunter plays a Half-Elf Paladin who ran away from an abusive father. As you can probably guess they’re the ‘This is my version of therapy’ type players.

• Gus plays a Human Sorcerer, mainly because just like himself in real life, he has maxed Charisma stats.

•Willow plays a Gnome Druid, and loves to play her as easy to overlook and belittle until she’s breaking your back with a Vine Whip spell.

•Skara plays a Satyr Bard, often coming up with lovely ballads on the fly and singing a song of what happened last session to catch everyone up. Her character may or may not have a massive crush on a certain Gnome girl who she sings the praises of the most (for the record she and Willow are dating here).

•Luz, meanwhile, chooses to play a Human, mainly because she enjoys having the ability to be well rounded. But she doesn’t know what class to be, so she convinces Vee to let her multi class as literally everything, using each level to gain one level in a different class. It’s a bit complicated but she keeps good enough notes that Vee can handle it.

•Vee, as a DM, isn’t too bad for a newbie. She relies on pre-made adventures at first, but gives each a flare of Boiling Isles magic, and gives each NPC a unique voice (and face). Eventually she even stops using pre-made modules all together, creating her own stories based on the BI. She always allows each players a chance to shine, and bends the rules a smidge if she can think of something fun or creative with it. She earns her ‘Worlds Best DM’ shirt they all get her as a birthday present, which Vee only cried a little when she got it.

Bonus: Camila doesn’t play often, too busy sadly. But sometimes she’ll drop in, using an old player sheet from a Cosmic Frontier-themed roleplaying game she and Manny would do with friends in college. Vee has to get extra creative to work her in, and often these sessions are one-shots, but no one minds. They have a lot of fun with Camila. Gus and Hunter even play a few games of the Cosmic Frontier RP if they can squeeze in the time.

[texshire-books]

A tale of two women, a hot sexy short story with no restraint

An excerpt;

‘Have you ever role played?’ Tanya then asked.

‘Some, but a long time ago when I did amateur dramatics, I belonged to a theatre group but I wasn’t very good. They made me a prompter, although I did go on stage once or twice as an extra.’ Tanya couldn’t believe the play on words this disclosure offered.

‘So, you are a thespian!’ Tanya emphasised the ‘are’.

‘I thought that was why I moved closer to you – to find out?’

‘I said thespian, NOT lesbian Katie but you know what you are doing!’ Katie didn’t pursue it and left Tanya to proceed.

‘Ok, let’s role play this scenario. We are two women, both unsure of our sexual orientation. One of those women is going to risk everything, her self-esteem, humiliation, a close friendship even, to find out if the other woman feels the same? The only question is which of us is going to play the role of the woman who makes a move on the other?’ Katie surprisingly had an answer and there was no withdrawing, changing the subject or ducking the issue now.

‘We could toss a coin?’ Tanya knew any change she did have was in her purse and that was on the table in the other room where they’d eaten.

‘No Katie, unless you’ve got loose change tucked inside your thong, you’re not leaving this sofa, this spell is not going to be broken, this is going to its conclusion!’ Katie surprisingly came up with a better solution. She emptied the remaining contents of the wine from its bottle and clearing a space, laid the bottle on its side and spun it. The bottle remained remarkably in place, slowing down until the open end of the bottle pointed at the far wall, away from them both.

‘We could be here all fucking night doing this!’ Tanya now leaned forward and spun it now. This time it stopped with the neck of the bottle pointing towards their touching legs. ‘One more, otherwise I’ll make the decision based on our birthday month. The earlier plays the mover, okay! Katie agreed and gave the bottle a good spin. It stopped pointing directly at Katie. ‘That’s pretty conclusive Ms Williams - come onto me!’  Katie bit her lip; she wasn’t quite sure where to start. She leaned in and kissed Tanya on the cheek, not fast, but she didn’t linger before she sat back.

‘Oh my god, I felt something. That was something else, I’m converted!’ Tanya responded with a unbridled sarcasm. ‘Let’s pretend you didn’t do that, try harder!’

‘Anything? You don’t mind what I do, you’ll submit?’ She asked tentatively.

‘It’s role play, we’re only acting after all. It’s your play and you’re the director.’ This time Katie slid forward and lay across Tanya’s lap, looking intently at her with her piercing blue eyes. She then looked down at Tanya’s short black dress which had ridden up, she placed her hand on her slightly parted legs and moved it upwards until her hand had disappeared and had been halted by something warm and rather damp. Tanya took a sharp intake of breath which increased as Katie now pulled the thin gusset of her panties aside and used her fingers to prise her slippery lips apart.

‘It’s only role play Tanya, we’re only acting. This isn’t for real.’ It certainly felt real when Katie ran her index finger deeper until it found its way into her vagina.

‘Fuck Katie, for a bit part player and prompter, you’re playing an Oscar winning performance!’ Tanya wanted to open her legs wide, in fact she wanted to stop the fucking around altogether and get it on - naked!

‘Just one last place to visit then I’ll stop and ask if I passed my audition.’ Before Tanya could even speak, Katie’s finger was removed and keeping it deep in her sodden trench she moved it up to her vee, where in a single twirling movement she found Tanya’s clitoris. Tanya shuddered, her legs snapped shut trapping her hand but not stopping a finger which continued relentlessly encircling her erect bud, leaving indescribable sensations in its wake.

‘You’ve passed your audition, now let’s stop pissing about and admit we both fancy each other like fuck! Can we do something about our clothes, I feel hopelessly overdressed. Katie slid off, she looked at her glistening finger which she then put in her mouth and sucked dry.

‘I always wanted to taste a woman’s excitement and boy, were you excited. Did you cum? I’m sure I felt you go, something happened didn’t it?’ Tanya had thought she was in charge but there was only one of them in control now. Katie stood. ‘Strip me! Strip me naked, I’ve always wanted to be stripped and made to submit.’ Katie stood glaring, challenging her house guest to fulfil the request she’d just made.

‘There’s me thinking you were shy and withdrawn, running away every time I asked you an awkward question, while all the time you were teasing. Strip you, I thought you’d never ask!’ Tanya was on her feet now, moving around behind Katie who stood with her arms to her side, expectantly. Tanya found the long zip which she pulled right down, she let gravity do the rest. ‘Strip you, fuck, if you’d been paying me, you’d expect a refund.  All I’ve get to do now is find your panties!’ There was an elasticated band round her waist which she stretched. Tanya watched as a slightly less narrow strip appeared from between her plump cheeks. She pulled her panties down and they joined her dress at her feet. Seeing the pattern, the red bow and the wording on her knickers, Tanya stooped and picked them up, her eyes glued to her magnificent bare bottom as she did so. ‘Remove with Care! – I certainly think I did that young lady.’ Katie shivered, she loved being called a young lady as a child and now someone had at last said that to her as an adult. Catherine Daniel nee Williams was naked!

Available on Amazon and D2D

Visit our website texshirebooks.com

[ordinaryschmuck]

Next idea I have to suggest, Luz playing video games with Vee and Hunter in an AU, then they both tease her because of needing to get ready for a date with Amity.

Advice During Kombat

The time: Five in the evening.

The place: The Noceda household living room.

The players: Vee and Hunter.

And the competition of choice: Mortal Kombat...the video game, not the actual bloodsport.

Regardless, the game was still ready as the two teens prepared for pixelated bloodshed, with Vee picking Scorpion and Hunter choosing Sub-Zero. The classic video game feud in history.

"Scorpion, huh?" Hunter cocked an eyebrow, "Why's that? Because you want to pretend for a second that you're actually hardcore?"

"Oh, yeah? Well, why did you pick Sub-Zero? Because um...because...Luz!" Vee called to her foster sister, "Hunter picked Sub-Zero!"

"Why?" Luz called back from the top of the stairs, "Because he has a cold heart?"

"Yeah, Hunter," Vee grinned, "Is it because you have a cold heart?"

But Hunter didn't look amused.

"You do realize that if you want those kids to stop making fun of you, you're going to have to come up with your own smack talk, right?"

"...Let's just play the stupid game."

"Excuse you! This game is--"

"Wait!" Luz slid into the living room, wearing a fancy dress shirt and coat with a frilly skirt, purple leggings, and combat boots. "Before you virtually kill each other, tell me: How do I look?"

"Um..."

"You look like a five-year-old dressed up their doll in a mish-mash of crap because they haven't discovered what fashion is yet," Hunter dryly commented, "Go pick out something else."

Luz blew a raspberry before running back upstairs. Once she was gone, Vee and Hunter focussed back on the T.V. screen.

"Now, get ready to eat your words about this game being stupid!" Hunter challenged, starting the fight. The second they could, both players controlled their characters in vastly different ways. Vee was more sporadic and tried to button mash her way to victory. Whereas Hunter appeared calm as he pushed the right buttons that he knew by heart.

"When you said that you were going to teach me how to fight, this isn't what I was expecting," Vee said as she miraculously got Hunter to half-health.

"I am teaching you. The first lesson is to pay attention to what these characters are doing. If you mimic their moves, then nobody is going to mess with you."

"I doubt that I'll be able to use a kunai spear in real life. Liiiiiiiiike THIS!" Vee expertly pulled Sub-Zero over to Scorpion, ending the round with one final blow. "Yes! In your face!"

But Hunter only chuckled menacingly at Vee's celebration.

"Oh, you poor, naïve girl. I was only going easy on you. Now, the real game can--"

"How about this," Luz interrupted Hunter's threat to present herself in a black dress with a crescent moon on the center.

"Looks great," Hunter said with disinterest as he paused the game.

"No, it doesn't," Vee interjected, "Luz, you look like a hot-topic kid's dream come true."

"See, now that is a good insult."

"To be fair, Amity is sort of emo," Luz pointed out with a nervous grin. "Maybe she'd be into it?"

"Just go pick out something else," Vee told her, causing the poor girl to run back upstairs with a whine.

"Back to bloodshed," Hunter announced, pressing play. This time, he practically destroyed Vee, who barely got two hits on him during the whole fight. Once the round ended, Hunter looked back at his opponent with the smuggest grin he could muster. Vee only glared.

"You...are a jerk."

"And your insults could use some work again," Hunter teased, ready for the new round, "Watch carefully now as I show you how to really--"

"Is this ok?"

Hunter paused the game again, absolutely fuming as he looked over to Luz.

"Would you STOP interrupting my--What...On Earth...are you wearing?"

Luz stood before them dressed in...something unconventional for sure.

"The otter onesie? Really?"

"...I'm nervous, ok?!" Luz blurted out, "I haven't been on a date before! I don't know what to wear!"

"So you went with the otter onesie?" Vee asked.

"I don't own that many fancy clothes!"

"Even then, I feel like you should know that wearing that thing is quite possibly the worst option you have," Hunter responded, "Seriously, you're better off going out naked than in...that."

"You're overthinking things, Luz," Vee said in a calming tone, "Amity's had a crush on you for, like, forever."

"For reason's that nobody will ever understand."

"Ignore him and listen to me when I say that you're going to be fine. No matter what you wear or what you do, Amity wouldn't care less. Just as long as you act like yourself, and--"

But Vee's reassurance was cut short once she heard the sounds of violence again. Looking back to the screen, she realized that Hunter had un-paused the game and was currently beating up a static Scorpion.

"Oh, you cheater!" Vee shouted, grabbing her controller.

"This is another lesson," Hunter smirked, "Always pay attention."

As the two of them went at it, Luz slowly trudged upstairs. After a few minutes of action, Vee had two hits left in her health bar, with Hunter's barely having a dent in it. Without any other options left, Vee's only choice was to jump around, dodging all of Hunter's attacks.

"You're only delaying the inevitable," he mocked.

"Only because you cheated!"

"In a real fight, you shouldn't have to worry about playing fairly. Only about winning."

"How's this for fair then: SWITCH!"

"Wait, what?"

Just then, Luz, now wearing a dress shirt and dark skinny jeans, took the controller out of Vee's hands. Effortlessly, she dominated Hunter, pulling off a flawless fatality once ending the match.

"Boom," she said simply, mic-dropping the controller. Vee smiled happily at her foster-sister, but Hunter only fumed.

"That is so not fair!"

"And we so don't care," Luz told him, giving Vee a fist pump, "Ok, so, this is the last outfit I can think of. How do I look now?"

"I think you look great!" Vee gave the thumbs up.

"I'll admit, while I hate this display of bad sportsmanship--"

"You cheated first!"

"--You don't look as bad as you usually do."

Bzzt!

After taking out her phone, Luz's eyes widened at the reminder she had set on it.

"I sure hope you're right, because I gotta go!" she exclaimed, heading for the door. "Love you, Vee! Hunter, you can go die in a fire!"

"Love you too, sis!" Vee called out.

"I hope Blight girl dumps you after this!" Hunter shouted back, but his genuine grin took the wind out of the threat. With Luz out of the house, it was just Hunter and Vee, who both sat on the couch with a hanging question before them.

"So..." Vee grabbed the controller off the floor, "Rematch?"

"Only because now you can't cheat this time," Hunter snarked, grabbing his controller and picking his new character.

"Again, you cheated first!"

[csykora]

hi! so i know you're big on russian hockey history, etc. can you talk about, in your amazing and incredible engaging narrative nonfiction with photos style, about fetisov and kasatonov on the devils and the whole thing of "they were really good but they hated each other's guts"? i'm a devils fan and i think i might know some pieces of the story, but i feel like if anyone would know more, it's you.

(yes, this was spurred by a post you made, and a quick google search of "nj devils russian players who hated each other" lmao)

thanks!

[Defensemen Vyacheslav Fetisov (2) and Alexei Kasatonov (7) being awkward on the bench. From Devils game footage, 1990. And posing in their Soviet League uniforms in the mid '80s.]

Thank you! I think this is a great question, because the famous version of the story is exactly what you said: They were good together but hated each other.

In that story it has something to do with a manly, unshaven Fetisov fist-fighting commies to get to America and Kasatonov being a commie. But not like a really bad one, because he also came to America and was a really nice guy (also surprisingly has the better facial hair.)

But it’s always smart to ask where a story like that comes from, who tells it, and how.

Thing is, I can’t give you any evidence—any words they’ve said or things they’ve done—that has hate in it. Conflict, trauma, survivor’s guilt and survivor’s anger, sure. But those aren’t hateful.

I think the story that got famous is a little bit...easy. A story where two people both hurt each other and hate each other for it might not be fun, but it isn’t hard. Because in a story like that, even if some harm was done, it was done by someone who was a peer—someone famous for being an equal half of a perfect match—not someone in power. It doesn't challenge anything.

If it was a personal issue, then as long as the two of them just repressed it and kept working, then everybody could enjoy the hockey they gave us, and nothing big or deep or important in our sport had to change.

In the immortal words of Vyacheslav Fetisov:

“You never asked me when I came in 1989 about what is happening. It wasn’t interesting. I went through a tough time, but you didn’t give a shit, and now you want to talk about it 25 years later, but it’s OK.”

Let's talk about this story and challenge some shit.

The two of them say they love each other. They loved each other, and they were abused, and one of them also loved their abuser. Those are three really hard things to do.

This story is about coaching abuse, and what that even is.

I don’t want to say this is the originary trauma of our sport. It’s not. I’m going to mention a number of difficult things that were happening in hockey at the time: I don’t mean to compare, rank, or minimize those in relation to this one, I’d just feel wrong if I didn’t acknowledge them (at the same time, this isn’t comprehensive).

I think it’s just an exemplary story, one that tested how famous a case abuse and violence could get without being questioned: how normalized those things are, and how many coaches and executives learned in the ‘80s what they could get away with. And, too, how there have always been people willing to work together, and to resist systems of violence.

There’s emotional and physical abuse throughout this story. I won’t give graphic descriptions, I will give content notes at the tops of certain sections.

1. A Teaser

It’s just between Christmas and New Year’s, 1977. From the photos I can tell you snow was falling in fat fluffy drifts, the way it does when Montréal decides to get romantic. Two boys who weren’t from there bumped into each other for the first time.

It was the window between their birthdays: one had just turned eighteen, and the other wouldn’t be twenty for a few more weeks, so they could both be there for the second-ever World Junior Championships.

That was the closest they had to common ground. One of the boys had four gold junior medals already, and a bronze from last year’s World Championships with the big boys. The other had never lived alone or really left his country before. The two of them were raised across an old rivalry that was getting worse.

[Dec. 28, 1977. by Doug Ball]

I’m sorry, that’s a picture of Vyacheslav Fetisov meeting Wayne Gretzky. Wayne Gretzky will just, like, also be around for all this

I’m giving you all this one [via Sports Illustrated]

The other boy in that first photo is Vyacheslav Aleksandrovich Fetisov, age 19, from the city of Moscow. 6’1”, left-side D, left-hand shot. Just touch a “yuh” sound for a moment and glide into an “ah” when you say the first syllable, not “Vee-ah”; for his last name, land on the second syllable.

Fetisov’s name has been a Cold War shibboleth: for fifteen years, when he played in North America, those were the only time you saw him. You couldn’t watch tape. Officials for Team Canada and Team USA passed around reels like porn. Soviet officials didn’t like anyone to know who their players were or which ones they’d be bringing to any given event, partly because the crest on the front was meant to matter more than the name on the back and partly because of all the kidnapping attempts (we’ll get there). Anglo announcers got the roster the morning of, and guessed.

You had to have precious access to the Soviet players to know. (You had to be, well, Wayne Gretzky). Then Fetisov came to America. He became a “fearless individualist” who “fought the system”, and everybody liked that.

If you’ve seen Miracle, you’ve heard Al Michaels’ second crack at his legendary calls. You’ll hear him say feh-TEA-sov several times, over the moments when he said something more like FED-ih-soff. Twenty years later, the producers thought that American hockey fans would think it was the movie’s mistake if they used the real audio. Americans had adopted Fetisov into our hearts, and learned to say his name—learned to tolerate his Russian-ness—and in going that forgot and then wrote over what hockey’s Cold War had really been like for him. Of course, maybe the producers were wrong at the time—but now the movie’s been around for almost twenty years itself.

He always calls himself Slava.

[arsonistsam]

Day six/last day of the @transbearbenny 200 follower count celebration. It’s been fun, y’all.

Free Space: Prophet!Benny

It’s the middle of the afternoon and Dean’s been out all week. Benny thinks Sam went with him, out on some hunt for a Vitala. “No, you can’t come. Just watch the kid. Maybe some tv.” Sounds nasty.

Kevin’s passed out on the kitchen table, God-rock sitting pretty next to him

Benny knows he’s not supposed to touch it or look it or think about it. Every time he even comes into the kitchen Dean ushers him out and promises to make whatever he wants most. Dean refuses to go to the nearest blood bank and steal a few pints of A positive for him. What typa friend…

So, yeah. Benny touches it anyway. He holds it up and his big old fingers and sets his eyes on the symbols. They swim in front of his face for a second before sharpening into clarity.

Who said this was hard? It’s like a slight pressure on his temples. Like the pre-pre-cursor to a migraine. Benny fills a glass of water and gulps it down and the feeling fades. Benny imagined more drama. Maybe his eyes would burn out, which would suck, or, he doesn’t know, wounds would suddenly open on his skin. But no, he looks at the symbols and they look back at him. There’s a symbol with a twist at the end like a pogo stick- that’s lamb’s blood.

He thought this would be harder. Isn’t Kevin supposedly the only one that can translate this thing? The only prophet around?

Benny grabs a big piece of paper and a pencil from Sam’s room. He spends the next twenty minutes translating to the symbols from what they mean in his mind to the words in English. By the end he’s got a recipe for a spell with the annoying sort of foreword Dean complains about while he cooks.

It’s only when he’s putting the notebook down next to Kevin’s practically comatose body that he remembers why he came here in the first place.

The video thingy is broken. VCR. See had what happened was that Benny put the tape in like Dean instructed, some sort of movie about a man dying and meetin’ his maker. When the time came that the video was over Benny wanted to switch it out for a new one, Some Like It Hot, but the damn tape wouldn’t come out! In all his hee-ing and haw-ing the whole thing crashed onto the concrete ground and broke into a million pieces.

Fuck him.

Alright. Guess that means he’s going to the store. How much can a new VCR cost? Two dollars? He does in fact know how to drive even if he doesn’t know how to get gasoline. He asks the pretty sounding lady in the car machine on how to get to a tv store. She points him Northwest.

He arrives at an asymmetrical monstrosity of a building. Best Buy a great big tag reads on the store front. Even Benny in his old ways knows that combination of yellow and blue makes for sore eyes.

He walks through the magic sliding doors and is met by a teenager with a sparse mustache and similarly disconcerting blue shirt.

“Hi, sir! How can I help you?” The kid’s voice is squeaky and grates Benny’s already frayed nerves. He takes a deep breath and plants his feet.

“I- uh- I need a VCR. Mine had an accident.” Practically killed itself, via Benny of course.

The teenager tilts his head at Benny, “We don’t sell VCRs anymore. But we can get you a DVD player.”

“Dee-vee-dee?”

The boy, Benny shoots a look to his name tag, Mason exhales hard through his nose.

“It’s like a VCR but instead of VHS tapes you buy in DVDs.”

All the acronyms are starting to be too confusing. “I just need a VCR.”

Mason puts his hands on his hips, “You’ll have to buy one online then. We don’t sell them here.”

“Fine.” Benny turns to make his way back to the car.

“Fine!” says Mason behind him. Benny shoots him a glare and he shrinks down.

How’s he gonna explain this to the Winchesters?

Turns out that’s not even his first problem when he gets back to the bunker. Sam and Dean and Kevin are all gathered in the kitchen facing the table. Sam is gripping his head, Dean’s frozen in place, and Kevin is furiously pointing at the piece of paper Benny left next to his head.

“That was not me! I woke up and there it was, completed, right next to my sleeping head,” Kevin starts pacing, “Oh, God. What if this is threat? What if someone is saying they could have killed me? Why would they even leave the Demon tablet? What if they took Benny for ransom?”

“Well that wouldn’t make any sense considering I’m right here.” All three boys turn to look at him.

“Benny! You’re alive!” Kevin throws his arms around Benny’s neck.

Benny pats his back for a while, “Yeah just went out to buy something.” Kevin lets go.

“So you don’t know who did this?”

“I do,” Benny takes a deep breath, “I translated it.”

He’s immediately hit with a face full o’ holy water.

“Thanks for that,” he swipes a hand down his face. “‘M not a demon.”

Dean pushes him up against the wall, forearm to his chest, “So what are you, then? And what have you done with Benny?”

“It’s me! I’m just Benny.”

“Yeah, right.” Dean pushes away from him and picks up the paper to examine it.

Sam speaks up from next to him, “Benny, how did you translate this?”

“I don’t know,” Benny shoves his hands in his pockets, “I just looked at the rock and suddenly the words popped in my head. Figured it’d be a waste if I didn’t write them down for y’all.”

“I thought there could only be a single prophet at once?” Dean pipes up.

Sam shifts on his feet, “Maybe Benny doesn’t really count as alive. I mean aside from being undead he also literally died and went to the afterlife.”

“But he came back.”

Sam shrugs, “Maybe it doesn’t matter in the eyes of God.”

Everyone’s staring at Benny now, the preassure’s rising- “I broke the video player thing!” He blurts out, slapping a hand over his mouth.

“You What?!” Dean storms past him to get to the machine.

Benny turns to Sam, “I was trying to take the tape out and the whole thing just crashed on the floor.”

Sam claps him on the shoulder, “It’s alright. Probably time to upgrade to DVD anyway.”

“That’s what the guy at the store said too.”

Kevin’s sunk to the floor by this point, head in hands, he’s rocking back and forth.

“Am I a fraud? Is my life a lie? Am I even real?” He looks at Benny and Sam, “Can you guys see me?”

“Yeah we can see you just fine.”

Sam crouches down to sit next to Kevin on the floor, “Just means you get to take a break now.”

Kevin nods his head and gets up, he walks to Benny’s side, “Thanks, for helping me out.”

“‘Course.”

Kevin nods his head and leaves the kitchen, presumably for his room.

Sam turns to Benny, “How are you holding up with all of this?”

“I feel bad about breaking Dean’s VH- whatever.”

“No, I meant like- the demon tablet.”

“Oh.” Benny thinks, he doesn’t feel any different, “I don’t feel anything new.”

Sam sweeps him up and down with his eyes like he’s checking for a physical change. “Don’t feel too bad about Dean’s VHS. If he really wants another one he can find it online.”

“I have money if that’ll help,” Benny holds out his crinkled $10 bill.

“Yeah,” the word moves out Sam’s mouth slowly, “thanks.”

Benny feels strangely accomplished.

They all take a break to go to the beach. Kevin’s so pale from having been underground for months that he gets tanlines on the tops of his feet.

Benny enjoys the feeling of swim shorts against his leg hair and catches Dean looking once or twice at how the stretch waist digs into his belly. He’s got a fruity drink in hand with a bright pink parasol to boot.

When the new VHS finally comes, Dean bans Benny from operating it.

That’s all good by him, the damn thing is impossible to use anyway.

When a new word-o’-God comes by Benny’ll take a look. Take a load off the kid.

Life on top isn’t so bad when he’s got a family.

[somedayonbroadway]

hii it’s me again and im obsessed with the nerve au- i was wondering if you could do a sprace version, please?

Hi, love! Of course I can! Sorry, this is so late :)

Characters

Racetrack Higgins (@racer) — Vee

Spot Conlon (@kingofbrooklyn) — Ian

Jack Kelly — Tommy

Albert DaSilva (@redhotal) — Sydney

Kid Blink (@ublinked) — Ty

JoJo De La Guerra — Wes

Crutchie Morris — Liv

Oscar Morris — JP

Katherine Pulitzer — Hacker Kween

Okay so…

Race is a foster kid. For most of his life, the poor boy did his best to fade into the background, to be the perfect, adoptable child. He avoids risks, he keeps to himself and the few friends he has. He doesn’t want to lose a spot at the table. He doesn’t want to put himself out there. After all, his parents were everything he wasn’t. They’d had him young. They took risks. They went on adventures. And one day, they never came back.

Even after Race is placed in a good foster home, even after he meets his foster brothers and mother and feels like he’s part of a family, he’s still scared to step outside of his bubble of comfort even though his brothers were a bit more social. Race was adopted right before he started high school. He was fourteen. Jack was fifteen and Specs was seventeen.

Three years later, they were hit by a drunk driver. Specs didn’t make it.

Race’s senior year wasn’t quite the same after that.

Race wants to travel. He wants to go to culinary school in Italy. So he applies. And he gets in. But he doesn’t accept the application. He’s terrified to leave Medda and Jack alone without Spencer. The pain hasn’t quite faded yet.

After seeing the acceptance letter, Race sets it aside before school and goes online instead, stalking a boy online that he’s had a crush on for years. Oscar Delancey. Jack thinks he’s a jerk. Race thinks he’s misunderstood.

That’s when his best friend FaceTimes him. Albert DaSilva has been Race’s best friend since he was first taken into Medda’s place and he is always looking for some extra attention. Race doesn’t mind so much, but sometimes it can get exhausting.

Albert tells Race to stop stalking Oscar on Instagram and, instead, sign up to watch Albert play Nerve, an online game where people get dared and have to perform those dares for their “watchers” for money and fame. Race scoffs at the game and tells Albert that it sounds ridiculous before he leaves for school.

Jack drives him. Race tries to tell him about Italy, but he chickens out. Instead, he goes to school where Albert gets his first dare.

Race’s other friends, Crutchie and JoJo record Albert on his own phone as he runs across the football field during a rally, buck naked. To no one's surprise Albert is suspended later that day. Despite this, while out for milkshakes after school, Albert informs Race that he will still be playing Nerve in hopes of becoming famous.

Jack, who meets the other kids at the restaurant, tells Albert he’s being ridiculous. This causes Albert to turn the tables on Race and tell him he could never be a player on Nerve and then all of his friends vote on a date for him with Jack being the only no. They dare him to talk to Oscar, a simple task that will just push him slightly out of his comfort zone. Race chickens out.

So Albert does it for him, only for Oscar to tell him that he’s not interested in Race. Race stands and storms out and Jack stops Albert from following him, telling him that he just hurt his little brother and better think about what he’s doing next time before Jack decides to punch in the nose.

Race rushes back home where he finds that he never closed the Nerve window on his computer. He watches the video on his screen where he finds out the rules of the game. There’s only three:

1. all dares must be recorded on the player's phone

2. any earned money will be revoked if a player fails or bails on a dare

3. "snitches get stitches."

It’s sketchy as hell but Race has a point to prove. When the question comes up “Watcher or Player,” against all of the boy’s instincts, he makes a decision. Player.

Race is running down the stairs when Jack gets home. He has his first dare. He needs Jack to drive him to Jacobi’s Diner. Jack does, because Race asked him to. That doesn’t stop Jack from giving Race a lecture on how stupid he’s being. Still, Race is determined to prove he isn’t a coward.

His dare is to kiss a stranger for five seconds. Jack records it for him as they eventually find someone reading a book that Specs had read to him once when he was going through an insomnia spell. To The Lighthouse. Race kisses the other boy for a lot longer than he had to and eventually stumbles away says “thank you!” and runs back to Jack.

Jack tells him that he needs to quit now after Race gets one hundred dollars for playing the game. Race almost concedes before he hears someone singing. The boy he’d just kissed walks over to him and sings to him, asking him to run away with him.

Jack realizes it’s a dare and tries to pull Race up and out of the diner, but the boy sits with them and tells him that some kid brought him that book and told him to sit and wait. Jack comments that it sounds like he responds well to puppy commands and starts calling him Spot. Spot doesn’t correct him.

Another dare comes. The watchers want Race and Spot to run away together, run away to the center of the city. Jack tries to stop them. But Race didn’t know how much he was longing for an adventure until that moment.

Race rides with Spot on his motorcycle to a very expensive store in the center of Manhattan where Spot goes in before him and Race is dared to try on a very expensive suit that he looked very good in. He changes on camera. Jack watches him, terrified to look away as he tries to follow him and stop him from getting himself killed. Apparently some kid died in Santa Fe playing Nerve.

Race doesn’t listen to his warnings and continues to take dares with Spot until they are dared to leave the store after their clothes have been stolen. Race says he won’t shoplift, but Spot is insistent. So Race comes up with a compromise.

They run out of the store in nothing but their underwear. Their watchers get a kick out of it. One of them even buys them the clothes they tried on, letting them keep them.

Jack decides he’s watched for long enough and calls someone for help. A dear friend of his. Okay, it’s his girlfriend, and maybe she’s a little older than him, but hey, who’s keeping track? He asks her for access to the dark web and she reluctantly gives it to him. When he has access, he finds all he can on Spot, previously known as Sean Conlon, a kid who played the game in Santa Fe.

He doesn’t seem like an upstanding citizen.

Albert is trying his best to get into the top ten, to win the whole game, but his watchers won’t give him any real dares. He’s out with Crutchie and JoJo when they find out that Race is playing the game. Albert is shocked and a bit jealous at how fast Race is moving up in the game.

Becoming a pair in this game, Race is dared to get a tattoo of Spot’s choosing and, though terrified of getting a tattoo at the wrath of his mother, accepts the dare and lets Spot calm him down with some music while he gets the thing, to later find out that it’s a lighthouse, for To The Lighthouse. After Race manages to complete this dare, the watchers move forward with a dare for Spot. He has to get to sixty miles per hour on his motorcycle while blindfolded.

Race almost bails on him because of it, because he’s terrified, but Spot manages to convince him to help and Race guides him while they get to sixty in five minutes. They barely make it and then they almost crash, and then they kiss, feeling invincible.

Jack can hardly watch, fearing his little brother might die and then his mother calls, asking why the hell money is being deposited into Race’s account and where it’s coming from, so Jack has to deal with that while he’s still trying to look for his brother.

Spot takes Race to a carousel. They mess around on it while Race tells Spot about Specs, about how Specs was fearless, about how Specs pushed him to do things he would’ve never done otherwise. Spot tells him it’s a shame he never met him. He thinks they would’ve gotten along. Race agrees with him before Albert tries calling him.

Albert has been at a party with the rest of their friends. They’re all watching Race play Nerve live on a big screen. He sees Race reject his call. He hears Race call him annoying, frustrating, attention demanding. It hurts. And everyone else gets to hear it too.

Spot suggests they go to the party that Albert’s at to show everyone that he’s not who they thought, to show people that he got a tattoo and his own opinions. However, when they get there, they find that Albert has bailed on a dare after the watchers found out he was scared of heights. He nearly fell from a ladder suspended above ten stories.

He’s pissed that his best friend wasn’t there to talk him out of it. This sparks an argument between Race and Albert. Race eventually tells Albert to sign up and watch him from now on if he wants to know where he is. Then he accepts his next dare, to finish Albert’s. He walks across the ladder only to be met with his big brother who tells him that Spot set him up, that he took a dare to get him to the party to fight with Albert. Race shoves him away and finds Spot, demanding to know if that’s true.

Spot pulls him into the elevator and tries to explain. But Race won’t let him. He’s had enough. He runs out of the building. He finds a cop and tries to tell him about Nerve. He needs someone to shut it down. But he gets distracted by a call from his mother, telling him that everything they had was gone, that their savings had been drained and photos were showing up on her and Jack’s social media page that shouldn’t be. Before Race can respond, he’s knocked out cold by a player who has been around the whole time, someone Race suspected Spot knew.

When he wakes up, he finds himself in a metal cage with the words “Snitches get Stitches” scrawled out on the walls. A computer lights up and tells Race that he is now their prisoner. A prisoner of the game. A flash of Jack comes across the screen. Then one of Albert. Terrified, Race tries to break out only for Spot to show up and pick the lock for him.

Spot explains to Race that he’s a prisoner of Nerve too and that the watchers control his whole life, and not just that, they control his family’s life. His sisters and his mother too. The only money they get is money the watchers give them after they messed with his mom’s job and his sisters’ futures have been destroyed. He explains that they’re going to give Race an impossible dare and that they sent Spot here after him to finish it for him if he can’t.

Down the hall, muffled voices are heard and Race walks into a new room to find Jack and Albert tied up and gagged on chairs and a gun sitting in between them. He’s dared to choose who lives and who dies.

Race is obviously scared and refuses to choose, trying to bail, but Spot stops him, telling him that if he bails, he’ll be a prisoner until the game comes around again. He has to win to get out. So Race takes the gun and aims it at his own head, causing the watchers to tell him to stop. They need someone to control. So Race stops and Spot unties the other boys and helps them out finding a secluded parking lot to drop them off before he rushes off to complete his next dare, trying to make sure he was the one in the finals with Race instead of Blink, the other boy who he was made prisoner with after going to the cops when their friend died playing the game.

Spot takes the same dare that got his friend killed, hanging one handed from a construction crane. He manages to do it, putting himself in the finals.

Jack, Race and Albert pull together and form a plan, calling some backup in and going to The Cloud, a place Katherine often hangs out. He asks her and her hacker friends to try and gain control of the boys controlling the game and she does. Jack takes Albert there after Albert makes a call at a pay phone. They try to hack the game while Jack gets a call from his panicking mother whom he tells to meet him at The Cloud.

Race goes to the finals and is given another gun. When he sees Spot across this mysterious arena, he tries to run to him, having fallen for him over the course of all of these insane events, but the watchers tell them to stop and take their marks. The first to shoot their opponent wins.

Spot tells Race to shoot him in the shoulder. Race almost complies, but shoots the ground, telling him that he can’t do this. He tries to walk away but someone from the crowd says that he’ll take the challenge instead.

Blink jumps into the arena.

Medda gets to The Cloud just in time to watch the whole thing.

The watchers vote for Blink to shoot Race. And he does.

Medda can’t fathom the fact that she’s lost another child.

But Jack just tells Katherine to blow it up as Race falls into Spot’s arms.

Spot begs him to wake up as the anonymous players phones reveal their real names and tell them their accessories to murder. Everyone begins to sign off.

Spot cries over Race, completely horrified and tries to shoot Blink before Race shoots up in his arms, telling him that he was alright, that it was all fake. So Spot hugs him and begs him to never do that again.

But he’s so happy that he’s finally free.

Race immediately calls Jack and Medda and they cry together. So Spot takes him to them.

Jack and Medda encourage Race to go to Italy and Spot and him end up in a committed relationship. Albert and Race makeup and Jack is still overprotective as ever and they heal from the loss of Specs and are able to actually love on.

For more Mood Boards and AUs, click here!

[spectralscathath]

do robyn :3c:

Send me a RWBY character and I’ll tell you:

Robyn Hill

My top three ships for the character

Clover/Robyn (Lucky Shot is my OTP), Qrow/Robyn (Jailbyrds is a spite ship and I’ll admit it), Roman/Robyn (Rob the Rich, if only for the name)

My three least favorite ships for the character

Robyn/any of the other Happy Huntresses, Robyn/Winter (I remember that fucking ‘snowbyrd’ discourse you bastards), Robyn/Qrow (when I remove the spite goggles I don’t like this at all.)

My biggest criticism for the character

you got 10 minutes? 20? Maybe 30? Buckle up fuckos. I got some points to make and you’re gonna listen.

1. Robyn Hill is wasted potential

Robyn’s first appearance was one of my favourite scenes of Vol7. No joke! She was witty, interesting, had an excellent banter with Clover, deliberately stood down from a fight she couldn’t win, though she seemed eager for a challenge, showed some cunning, and looked like she was having fun. 

And then pretty much all of that got ignored. Robyn was set up as a good, smart leader with a cocky swagger, history with Clover, a deceptively cunning streak, and a calm, level-headed attitude. What Robyn was from then on was Angry Shouty Hothead Picks Fights She Can’t Win. She turned into someone impulsive, short-sighted, bullheaded, and focused only on fighting. 70% of Robyn’s lines are about violence and how she likes violence and how she wants to fight with VIOLENCE. The other 30% are, incidentally, ‘i’m so smart and understanding and kind, I’m gonna force people to undergo a lie detector test via peer pressure and ultimatums but it’s actually tragic that no one wants to be my friend because of my semblance. Poor me. 

And that was not what I was expecting. That is not what was foreshadowed. And compared to what the potential could have been, a good allusion rich with depth, a setting that could ahve been interesting if it wasn’t so rushed, how she could have been a player on the board, filled so many possible roles, and instead she was a walking ‘Ironwood bad’ mouthpiece that didn’t actually do anything (and has never done well in a fight, which is RWBY’s staple). What a waste. 

2. Robyn Hill actively makes things worse and gets no comeuppance

Robyn Hill makes situations worse. First of all, she steals supplies from Ironwood (and then doesn’t use them???? what the fuck????), which puts Ironwood under stress, which then leads to Ruby being Miss Unhelpful (but that’s a rant for another day). Robyn then gets classified info from Blake and Yang who, may I remind you, never met her. She could have been a spy! But no, Blake just has a gut feeling (because the script said so).

Robyn then calls James out on this, which later leads to ‘how did Robyn know about the global communications tower’, which means the fighting happens in the office, everyone stresses, Salem provides one of the few redeeming scenes in the show post-Ironwatts fight (it all went downhill from there, even more then it already was). Robyn didn’t explicitly cause this but she sure as fuck had a hand in it. 

Then you have fucking. Clover’s death. Yes, Robyn, agreeing with the serial killer who just tried to murder you and starting a fight in an enclosed space when you’re a ranged fighter vs your melee combatant ex-boyfriend is absolutely the smart thing to do. And then, for a moment, Qrow and Clover nearly sort things out, and fucking Robyn jumps in again. And then, what did she do? She got knocked out immediately. Yikes. Ladies and gentlemen, our ‘Resident Strong Female Character’. But because she did all this, she pretty much guaranteed first: Tyrian escaped. Secondly: Clover died. 

And yeah, Robyn. Just because Qrow didn’t personally shove that blade through Clover’s chest, he still worked with The Serial Killer Who Kills People to help. So yeah, Robyn, that does count as some sort of murder. Or at least, accomplice to murder. You’re also vaguely adjacent to it, so don’t get all ‘but Qrow’s innocent’.

It’s the same problem with team RWBY. They do terrible things, they whine about how hard it is, and all is forgiven cause they’re cute sad girls. There’s no comeuppance. There’s no growth. It’s just the script going ‘this character is right because we said so, so now we’re gonna do our best approximation of if a pretzal and a contortionist had an unholy boneless lovechild and bend the plot so the characters win anyway.’

3. Robyn Hill is a static character

This is gonna sound weird with this lil header but Robyn actually had an arc in vol7! She had an arc that was fairly basic, she went from ‘I don’t trust Ironwood and want to know what’s going on’ to ‘I am actively ruining Ironwood’s goals’ and finally settled on ‘I know what’s going on, Ironwood is worth supporting, and I do trust him.’ It was a simple arc, but it didn’t need to be anything more then that. 

Then in the span of about 1 minute all her actual development was reversed and she ran backwards to her original stance of ‘Ironwood bad’. We literally saw her devleopment walk backwards, and there it stayed. She spent all of vol8 as an empty voicebox that occasionally pipped out ‘Qrow’s my friend’ and was devoid of any personality. She didn’t have much beforehand that wasn’t fairly generic, so it’s almost impressive.

The problem is that static characters take a lot of work to avoid being boring characters. A lot of rwby just has these problems in general, character development is either ignored, skipped over, or given to the wrong characters, but in Robyn’s case it’s actively annoying because she had some development, and then she ignored all of that to go back to being ‘ironwood bad’ with a side of ‘Qrow good’ because we needed to be reminded of that after he got an innocent man killed. 

4. Robyn Hill is an unnecessary character

Why are you here. What do you do. Robyn was stated to be a character meant to act in opposition to Ironwood, to put him under stress like every other fucking character in this series. This was ‘confirmed’ by Eddy Rivas, which means zero because at some point the mentally deranged Weazel Ball that masquerades as the crwby writing team’s collective braincell will rapidly and suddenly change direction, causing massive retcons and plotholes in their moth-eaten threadbare dishtowel they dare to call ‘lore’, and we will have a different excuse for this waste of a good VA. 

Here’s the thing tho: Robyn as ‘opposition for Ironwood’ isn’t fucking special. The fucking air in the Atlas Academy lobby opposes Ironwood. Robyn seems to be there... because Mantle needed a voice? Okay, well, why the fuck did Mantle need to exist? Because... the election plotline needed to exist so Jacque could do something mean? God, everything about Mantle and Robyn and the election plotline is just annoying. It drags and it adds nothing to the plotline and it all should have been culled so instead we could focus on things that are actually important (like maybe: the myth arc? character development? the fucking Schnees in Atlas???) rather then rwby’s fuckboi incel attempt at ‘classism = bad?’. If I, as a professional paid editor who works with actual manuscripts, was given the scripts for rwby vol7, I would have gotten the big red highlighter and done a shitload of crossing out. Then I would have told the writing team “come back with your second draft”, but alas, we got the Atlas Arc.

My favorite thing about the character

I love her design aside from that ugly-ass scarf. Also, her VA, Cristina Vee, is the only redeeming quality of this tire-fire of a character. Godbless and praise. 

A headcanon I have about them

She deals with chronic ‘ponytail keeps falling out’ syndrome, just constantly. So many hairbands get used up when she does anything. 

What I would change about them if I was making a re-write

Everything. Every fucking thing. Especially that stupid fucking lie-detecting semblance.

What I I think of their character allusion and what (if anything) I would change about it

It’s incredibly underutilised. It’s Robin Hood in-name-only. It’s like, the most basic ‘oh the name is Robin and they steal’ and there’s not even any of the most obvious tells. Where’s the bright green? Where’s the hood? Where’s the fucking longbow? Where’s the ‘giving to the poor’ that comes after ‘stealing the rich’? She didn’t actually use any of those things she stole to fix Mantle, she just stole it. 

Literally, all the classic elements of Robin Hood are missing, all that’s there is a name and... that’s it. The allusion isn’t there, and even if it was, it’s done in a boring fashion. 

Personally, I would add more Robin Hood elements, and I would change one key thing. I would change her allegiance. Instead of ‘Robin Hood on the side of good’, I would take the team WTCH  approach, a ‘good allusion turned evil’, and I’d have Robyn working with Salem, or, at least, as an antagonist. Because that could be actually interesting then the boring and unnecessary storyline we had. 

[babysizedfics]

Little Accidents, Big Developments

Chapter 8: Sink and Float

[This is an age regression story]

Chapter Summary: Roman is anxious, Virgil has some compelling things to say, Logan deduces Virgil’s true regression age, Patton gets emotional, and we say good-bye.

Chapter word count: 11,750

Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus

Read on AO3 or below the cut!

Content warning: Light angst, but cuteness galore to make up for it.

oOo

‘All right, little prince. What should I write here?’

‘His coolness rating,’ Roman replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His tongue stuck out slightly as he concentrated on his drawing; a picture of Kanga on the top half of a small piece of paper. Underneath the character were five rectangles, all coloured to varying levels of completion.

‘Of course,’ Patton said, nodding solemnly as he wrote “coolness” underneath the fifth rectangle on his own piece of paper. ‘And I’m guessing Tigger’s coolness rating is -’

‘Ten.’

‘Ten. Obviously,’ Patton giggled. He picked up the red crayon from the dining room table and coloured the final rectangle to completion. Just like the four rectangles above it. They signified Tigger’s bounciness, funniness, orangeness, and Roman’s seal of approval ratings, all maxed out. ‘I’m starting to think this card might be rigged.’

‘Nu-uh!’ Roman cried, finally looking up from his drawing with a pout. ‘Not rigged if it’s true. Tigger is the funniest, bounciest, orangest, coolest character, and he’s my favourite. He just has to win all of the rounds!’

Despite the frankly questionable logic, Patton was simply glad that Roman was back to his cheeky self.

While they baked, Roman had been strangely well-behaved. The way he had obediently mixed the batter, rolled the dough, and shaped the cookies without so much as a whinge was highly unusual. Patton was glad he didn’t have to tell the boy off for anything, of course, but there was nothing relieving in seeing Roman stand patiently at the side of the room while Patton washed up. There was no singing, no dancing, no bouncing, not so much as a peep from the little prince. It just wasn’t right.

Roman was boisterous, whether he was little or not; he was excitable and hyperactive and loud. Usually, he would have baulked at the mere suggestion of standing in silence awaiting instructions. Though that was precisely what he had done in the kitchen by his own volition, staring at his feet in quite a pensive manner.

By the time he had set the gingerbread haycorns and hunnypots on the counter to cool down, Patton had made the decision to extend their father-son bonding time. He knew Roman’s strange mood would persist if Patton didn’t get to the bottom of it.

‘Where are you going, sweetheart?’ Patton had asked when Roman had started walking towards the living room once Patton had finished the dishes.

‘Back with Vee and Mom,’ Roman had replied. ‘We can’t decorate them yet.’

‘It’s still father-son bonding time though! Why don’t we find something fun to do while we wait?’

He wasn’t quite as bouncy as Patton had hoped he would be, but Roman at least smiled at the suggestion.

Now, after almost an hour of crafting Pooh Cards (all design credit owing to Roman, of course), the creative side had finally been coaxed out of his sombre, contemplative mood. Patton himself had even perked up from the reassurance that he still knew what was best for his little prince.

‘What if another player that isn’t you gets Tigger’s card?’ Patton asked, neatening the edges of the coloured rectangle. He was careful not to budge Roman with his elbow as did so. ‘Won’t you be sad to lose?’

The scritch of Roman’s crayon paused for a moment, then continued. ‘It will be a worthy loss.’

What a funny little boy, Patton thought with a chuckle. Having finished with Tigger’s statistics, he put the crayon back in Roman’s Lion King pencil case. ‘Okay, last one!’ He slid the card across the table to Roman’s spot. ‘Do you need your dad’s help to draw Tigger?’ Patton asked. (Not so much because he was expecting a positive response, but because he knew the question reinforced both of their respective headspaces.)

‘I got it!’ An orange crayon was snatched from the table.

Patton sat back and watched as Roman drew his favourite character with a bright smile. It was impossible not to mirror it. ‘Once you’ve finished drawing Tigger we can decorate our cookies!’

‘Dad,’ Roman whined without looking up from his drawing, ‘they’re not cookies. They’re haycorns and hunnypots.’

‘Right, haycorns and hunnypots,’ Patton quickly corrected himself. ‘I keep making that mistake, don’t I?’

There was no response from Roman, who was clearly concentrating on getting Tigger’s tail just so.

‘Cutie pie,’ Patton couldn’t help but coo. When he pinched Roman’s cheek the younger side laughed so sincerely that Paton was hit by a wave of equal parts joy and guilt.

Joy because Roman was happy and so utterly adorable. Guilt because Patton clearly didn’t spend enough time with his little prince if this was such a rare sound to him.

‘I’ll get the icing ready,’ Patton whispered, leaving the room quickly.

By the time he had moved the cookies and the icing bowls into the dining room, Roman’s drawing was complete. Patton praised him heartily for his work (to which Roman blushed and giggled) as he arranged their workspace with the three different bowls of glace icing - yellow, pink, and mint green - and the cookies, plus a tube of white writing icing for the hunnypot labels.

Excited to be in charge of yet another creative project, Roman instantly took on a leading role. ‘Dad, you’ve gotta do the writing on the hunnypots and fen - and f-th-then I’m gonna do all the pretty colours!’

‘Right-o, kiddo!’ Patton saluted him, then got right to work. ‘You always have such wonderful ideas, don’t you, little prince?’ The lid to the writing icing tube put up a slight resistance as Patton unscrewed it.

‘Mhm… I’m clever,’ Roman mumbled slowly, concentrating as he spread some green icing onto one of the haycorn cookies.

‘Just like your mom. I’m sure him and Vee agree too.’

‘Vee thinks I’m clever?’ Roman asked, his voice a pitch higher from excitement.

‘Of course, sweetie. He looks up to you a lot.’ The tail of the “Y” that Patton piped accidentally curled off of the hunnypot in his hand. Patton placed the cookie back on the cooling rack and licked the sugary blob off from his fingertip. ‘You two are such lovely brothers - you’re practically inseparable.’

There was a gentle snap. Both Patton and Roman looked down to see that the haycorn in Roman’s hands had snapped in half.

‘Oh…’ Roman breathed as he looked down at the broken cookie. The pout on his face was so intense that Patton was almost worried he would start crying.

‘No, it’s okay. Here,’ Patton gently took the gingerbread pieces from his fingers. ‘Your dad can work his magic and glue it back together with icing. You just keep making them look pretty, sweetheart.’

They resumed decorating in silence, with something indescribable hanging heavily in the air between them. Patton kept quiet, allowing Roman space to speak if he wanted to say anything. Then, after a couple of minutes:

‘Dad?’

It sounded shy, so instead of looking at Roman and possibly making him more nervous, Patton’s eyes remained on the haycorn halves that he held together. White icing oozed from the crack as he waited for it to set. ‘Yes, my bright ray of sunshine?’

The nickname pulled a little giggle from Roman, brightening the atmosphere infinitely. He sounded a bit more confident when he asked, ‘Is, um… is Vee wearing a diaper?’

Patton’s gaze snapped onto Roman’s face in faint shock.

‘There was a weird sound when Mom moved him earlier,’ Roman explained. ‘And you said he feels littler ‘cause you tried something new.’

There was no variation of upset or amusement on Roman’s face, so Patton was not concerned when he confirmed, ‘Yes, he is wearing a diaper, you’re right.’ Though he still felt it important to add, ‘Does that make you feel okay?’

Roman quickly nodded, clearly desperate to show that he was not in opposition. ‘No, it’s fine. W-wait, I mean yeah! Yeah, it’s okay.’ His eyes fell down to the cookie in his hands as he continued decorating. ‘It makes sense. Babies need diapers, right?’

‘Right.’

The way Roman gazed at his cookie reminded Patton of how he had appeared in the kitchen; contemplative. It was clear that Roman had more to say, going by the way his toes tapped at the foot of Patton’s chair rapidly. Patton waited.

‘Okay, wait, so,’ Roman eventually said, sounding as if he were a student troubling himself over a difficult math problem and Patton was the teacher who could shed some light on its solution. ‘Virgil really can’t go to the toilet?’

Patton readjusted himself to lean his elbows on the table, settling in to patiently help Roman through his confusion. ‘Not when he’s regressed, no.’ The cookie halves wobbled a little in his hold.

‘And can he really not speak properly?’

This time Patton had to take a moment to think over his answer. He hadn’t actually considered questioning whether Virgil’s hindered speech was genuine. Now that he thought about it, Virgil did appear to try hard when he spoke while regressed. Although the babbles were quiet and seemed to meld into each other, they were notably forced. As if he was putting a lot of effort into getting them out. And yet they were only ever half-coherent at the best of times.

‘No,’ Patton said, smiling to himself at the realisation. ‘I don’t think he can.’ The reminder that Virgil’s regression was all-encompassing sent a rush of excitement racing through Patton’s veins. He truly was responsible for an incredibly vulnerable baby. While that thought might have been intimidating to some, Patton was filled with pure comfort at the mere thought. It was like he was finally fulfilling his purpose. It was like coming home.

‘So… Vee is really, actually a baby.’ Roman’s eyes were wide and his voice laced with astonishment.

‘Yes,’ Patton confirmed with a giggle. It sounded like this was a new revelation to Roman. ‘Your baby brother is really, actually a baby.’

Roman’s brow pulled into a light frown as his spoon swiped over his cookie one last time before dropping into the icing bowl with a clatter.

It was clear Roman wanted to ponder over the answer, for whatever reason, so Patton turned his attention to testing the cookie in his hands. At the slightest pressure, the two halves broke free from each other, and he tutted. Replenishing the icing more liberally this time, he held the jagged edges together firmly again.

‘I like that,’ Roman muttered.

‘What’s that, sweetie?’

‘I like having a baby brother.’ Patton saw Roman nodding as if assuring himself of his decision. ‘I don’t want Vee to be like me, I like that we’re different.’

The last part seemingly came from nowhere, and the whole discussion seemed oddly disjointed, though Patton didn’t show his confusion. Instead, he opted for his standard smile of loving support, which would always be appropriate in any situation as far as Patton was concerned.

‘Well, I’m glad you like it!’ His tone bounced cheerfully. ‘And I know that Vee really loves having a big brother.’

‘Hm,’ Roman hummed and picked up a hunnypot cookie to decorate. Something in the slow movements of his fingers as he iced the treat felt off.

Patton nudged him gently, jostling his elbow. A sympathetic smile wormed its way onto his lips when he saw distant eyes snap onto him. Roman’s throat rolled with a gulp.

‘What’s the matter, little prince?‘ Patton murmured sweetly. It never took Roman long to blurt any troubling thoughts that hurtled through his mind when Patton asked about them with such softness.

Right on cue, Roman sighed explosively. Then he began: ‘Now that I’m part of the family -’

(Patton’s heart twisted. Now that Roman was part of the family. As if he hadn’t been before.)

‘- I’m kind of…’ Roman paused, nibbling his lip. His eyes fell to the table as he whispered, ‘I’m scared.’

Patton instantly dropped his cookie to the table. He didn’t care that it split apart once more, leaving a thin line of white, sugary goop on the wooden surface - his only priority at that moment was Roman. His little prince always placed so much importance on being fiercely brave and strong. Patton knew this must have been an exceptional circumstance for him to actually admit to feeling afraid.

‘What are you scared of, honey?’ he asked, his tone as steady and firm as the arm he placed around Roman’s shoulders. It was of utmost importance that Roman saw him as a supportive, strong father figure during that moment of rare vulnerability. It had to be known that Patton would protect him from anything that was causing him distress.

‘I’m scared it’ll end.’ Thankfully, Roman clearly found Patton supportive enough to lean against him as he spoke. ‘You know, us being a family.’

It was difficult to contain the urge to shrug off the mere idea. Though Patton knew better than to dismiss his loved ones’ worries, no matter how seemingly unlikely. ‘Why do you think it will end?’ he asked instead.

A sharp shrug jostled both of their bodies. ‘I don’t know… What if Vee stops regressing?’

‘I don’t think that will happen,’ Patton said gently as he swayed them to and fro. The weight against his side got heavier as Roman leaned into his one-armed embrace. ‘Your mom thinks the regression is written right into Virgil’s brain since he’s done it for so many years. It’s a part of him.’

‘Okay…’ Roman sounded uncertain still, reaching forward to fidget with the hem of Patton’s cardigan. ‘What if me and him start arguing all the time again?’

Taking the long fingers in his own, Patton whispered, ‘You won’t,’ with absolute confidence. ‘I don’t think you could go back to how you used to be after everything you boys have shared with each other.’

When Patton pressed a soft kiss to Roman’s cheek, he honestly expected to feel the tension leave Roman’s body.

Instead, the grip around Patton’s fingers tightened painfully. ‘What if he says he doesn’t wanna be brothers anymore?’ Roman’s words were frantic, panicked. ‘I don’t wanna lose him, he’s the best brother I…’

Silence reigned.

Patton’s gaze sunk to the tabletop where the two halves of the haycorn cookie lay torn apart, joined only by a thin trail of icing.

‘I just don’t want us to be split up,’ Roman whispered brokenly.

Memories flooded Patton’s mind. Of two boisterous children, identical twins, perpetually by each other’s sides despite their constant arguing. Of fearsome fights; scratching and biting and screaming. And of a thought, just a thought, that had passed through Patton’s mind one sunny day like an innocent floating cloud. The thought that one of the twins had potential and that the other was… wrong.

Memories of the following day and only seeing one child come out from their room. Of little snippets of conversation between Janus and Logan. Of realising that the other twin had not ceased to exist, but had been moved to the lower parts of the mind. (No one understood how. It was the only time a side had been moved between the conscious and the subconscious.) (That would change over a decade later when Virgil timidly knocked on their door.)

Memories of the “good” twin - Roman - seeming unaffected by the loss of his brother. Happier, even, that his ideas had no contenders. That there was no longer a double of him suggesting all manner of disturbing things that Patton simply could not stand to hear.

Warm fingers tightened further around his.

As Patton’s awareness was reeled against that cold, crashing wave of regret, his mind spluttered. Unaffected? Patton realised now the ridiculousness of the mere notion that Roman would have been unchanged by the split. By the fleeting thought from Patton - he himself still being a child at the time - that had acted as the catalyst for such an irrevocable shift in the twins’ lives. In everyone’s lives.

‘Dad?’ Roman’s gentle voice broke the surface of Patton’s turbulent reverie.

With a steadying breath, Patton forced himself back to the present and clasped both hands around Roman’s. He prayed that the tightness of his grip would dispel the trembling of his fingers.

‘You and Virgil love each other very much,’ he said, ‘and you’ve both become a lot better at showing it; when you’re little and when you’re big. Even if you did argue, you could never stop being brothers. Not now. I promise, nothing will -’ Patton’s voice was suddenly strangled by an involuntary gulp. He felt his cheeks burn as he swallowed past the knot of nerves in his throat. ‘Nothing will tear you apart,’ he finished quietly.

‘What if you and Logan break up?’

It was easy to forget how different Roman’s voice was when he was little. Him being such a master at adapting his voice for different roles, the shift in tone was subtle, though effective. The slightest bit higher in pitch, though not unnaturally so. Much bouncier in intonation, but not inappropriately so. Changed, but not overexaggerated. (Perhaps Roman was accustomed to minimising the impact of changes, Patton realised.)

Though now it was clear. This question was deeper, louder, bigger than the previous ones. It was a question from adult Roman.

Patton sighed and met Roman’s eyes equally. At that moment he was no longer a father speaking to his son, but rather a friend reassuring a friend.

‘If, for whatever reason, Logan and I stop dating…’ Patton paused. That was the first time he had verbally acknowledged that they were an item. It truly felt amazing to admit to someone besides Logan himself. Though it was a melancholy experience, to be announcing their relationship while simultaneously theorising its demise. ‘If that ever happens then we’ll still be very good friends. And we will all still be a family, I promise.’

The reluctance faded from Roman’s expression and he wriggled his hand free from Patton’s hold. A finger raised between their faces. ‘Pinky promise?’ Roman asked in childlike hopefulness.

Patton curled his little finger around Roman’s. ‘Pinky promise,’ he said earnestly.

Taking advantage of the fact that Roman’s hand was apprehended - and desperate to distract from the loaded atmosphere - Patton swiped some icing onto Roman’s face.

‘Hey!’

‘What’s wrong?’ Patton asked in mock-confusion.

Roman glared at him past a smile. ‘There’s icing on my cheek!’

‘Oh, let me get that for you!’ Patton pressed a long, wet kiss to Roman’s cheek, the icing spreading between his lips.

‘Da-ha-d,’ Roman giggled, trying to squirm away.

With a loud smack of his lips, Patton pulled away laughing. As he licked his lips clean, he took a moment to appreciate the pure joy on Roman’s face. ‘I love you, little prince. And I love Virgil and I love Logan. And I know for a fact that you all love each other too. That will never, ever end. No matter what.’

There was a loud screech of chair legs against the floorboards then Roman was on his feet, hunching over to hold Patton in a deadly-tight hug. Patton returned it with a strained wheeze.

‘I don’t want it to end,’ Roman mumbled into his shoulder. ‘I don’t want anything to change.’

That was a loaded statement if Patton had ever heard one. The sentiment behind it was clear and admirable, of course. Like Roman, Patton too loved how their family was faring and wouldn’t change it for the world. Though he was hit by the reality of just how much had changed in the past few weeks, the past few days, even the past few hours!

Regardless, he knew what Roman meant, and he wasn’t one to magnify the ambiguity of language choices. That was Logan’s job.

So - despite his uncertainty in the generalisation of the statement - Patton held Roman closer and said, ‘Nothing will change, sweetheart.’

oOo

As much as he had enjoyed his and Roman’s Father-Son bonding time (which they agreed would become a weekly ritual from then on), Patton was more than eager to return to the living room and be the happy pappy again.  It was hard to shake the melancholy from the earlier conversation, after all.

Once the hunnypots and haycorns were decorated and left to set in the kitchen, the two traipsed back down the hallway. Patton stopped just short of opening the living room door when he heard a muffled, unintelligible conversation coming from the other side of it.

He looked behind him to Roman, who mirrored his confusion. The distant voices sounded as if they were holding a full-fledged discussion. Could Virgil have been grown-up again?

Patton pushed the door open with a deep disappointment that he didn’t quite want to acknowledge. Though on poking his head into the room, it didn’t take long to see that Virgil was still regressed and in Logan’s lap. He sighed in relief.

‘Mamanaba,’ Virgil muttered, rattling Meeko with fervour. The inflection of his voice was similar to that of normal speech, even if the actual content was gibberish and his tone was still decidedly babyish.

Logan’s hands readjusted on Virgil to hold him steady as the boy kept bouncing in his lap. ‘My goodness, I never considered such a thing! Though I don’t believe that is quantifiable.’

‘What are you talking about?’ Roman laughed from behind Patton, then stepped around him in the direction of the couch.

There was nothing but pure paternal instinct that made Patton hurriedly reach out and pull Roman backwards against his chest and into his arms. He just could not bear to see the others being so sweet while his own arms were empty of one of his babies. Thankfully, Roman just settled against him and didn’t comment on it.

‘This is an academic debate, little prince,’ Logan explained very seriously, offering one of his false-stern looks. His lips twitched. ‘No interruptions, please.’

‘W-waba, mamama,’ Virgil babbled, his voice now squeaky with excitement.

Logan gasped loudly and looked at Virgil in amazement, to which the regressor giggled. ‘What a fascinating hypothesis! But have you considered the subjectivity of such a theory?’

There was a moment of quiet while Virgil looked over at the doorway to Patton and Roman. It seemed he had only just noticed their appearance. Meeko was raised to hide Virgil’s face as he collapsed against Logan’s chest. ‘Baba,’ Virgil whined, muffled by the toy at his chin.

A loud chuckle rang out. ‘Well, you’ve certainly given me a lot to think about,’ Logan said, cupping the back of Virgil’s head protectively.

‘Mom, can you speak baby?’ Roman asked, sounding thoroughly impressed. As he spoke, he launched himself away from Patton’s chest and skipped over to stand in front of the couch.

‘It certainly sounds like it,’ Patton murmured, watching Roman go. The sudden emptiness in his arms couldn’t hold a candle to the emptiness in his chest. Why was he so sensitive all of a sudden? Why did his chest physically ache when he wasn’t holding his boys?

Then his thoughts came to a crashing stop. No. This wasn’t about him and what he wanted. Roman obviously didn’t want a hug so he was perfectly within his right to wriggle out of it. Patton had been keeping him from his brother, after all. The memories of his and Roman’s previous conversation rose in tides, threatening to spill over. Patton had been keeping Roman from his brother again.

‘What did you two get up to, little prince?’ Logan asked. ‘Did you have fun with your dad?’

As Roman launched into an impassioned regaling of the creation of Pooh Cards and his expert cookie decorating skills, Patton floated over to the couch - specifically towards the baby in Logan’s lap. His knuckle ghosted over Virgil’s smooth cheek and elicited a small coo from him. The contact and the sweet sound filled Patton with a sudden motivation that he hadn’t realised he had been lacking.

Then Virgil pulled himself to sit up from Logan’s chest and shook his rattle right by Patton’s ear with a bright smile that threatened to dislodge his pacifier. ‘Babababa.’

‘What a fun sound!’ Patton gushed, only faintly acknowledging that Roman’s monologue had just drawn to a close. ‘I see someone’s woken up a bit since we left.’

‘He is rather enraptured by the rattling sound,’ Logan said, shuffling Virgil in his lap so that he could more directly face the others. (It was true, the way Virgil stared at his toy looked as if we were both confused and amazed by the sounds coming from it; almost spellbound.) ‘I think it’s safe to say that it is a “good stim”.’ He directed his gaze to Roman and said, ‘Virgil appreciates his present from you Roman, even if he is not able to tell you as much at the moment. Thank you for making your little brother happy.’

Roman flopped down to sit on the couch a couple of feet away from Logan with pink cheeks. ‘S’okay,’ he muttered with a nonchalant shrug that was betrayed by his wide smile.

Quite unexpectedly, Virgil whined loudly and dropped Meeko to the couch. Then he wriggled and reached his arms out towards his brother so insistently that he slid right off of Logan’s lap.

‘Vee!’ Logan yelped.

Patton acted lightning fast, dropping to his knees and catching Vee in one fell swoop. A fraction of a second later and Virgil would have hit the ground.

‘Woah, there we go.’ Patton hoisted Virgil onto his hip and stood upright again, keeping a firm arm under Virgil’s diaper to support him. ‘Are you okay, angel?’ he asked breathlessly, residual adrenaline surging through his veins.

The shock didn’t fade from Virgil’s expression for several seconds. Then, at last, his eyes swam with thick tears and he broke into a constant stream of whimpers.

‘Aww, my little baby,’ Patton cooed. He started bouncing him lightly as parents often did with wailing infants. ‘You’re all right, sweetie. Shh-shh-shh.’ Virgil’s whimpers quickly quieted at the bouncing so Patton kept it up, warm adoration swelling in his chest at just how alike a real baby Virgil was.

With a wet sniffle, Virgil buried his face against Patton’s shoulder.

‘That’s it,’ Patton murmured. ‘Papa has you, you’re safe.’ He felt a pinch at his side and looked down to see that Virgil was gripping his cardigan and tugging on the material harshly. Without looking away from his baby, Patton held his free hand out to the couch. ‘Can someone please pass me Meeko?’

A few seconds passed without any softness being pressed into his hands. Patton looked over to find Logan and Roman sat staring at him in stunned silence.

It felt as though he had unknowingly done something horribly wrong. Heat flooded his cheeks. ‘What’s wrong, what did I do?’ Was he being a bad Dad? Would they take his baby away? His grip on Virgil tightened.

‘N-nothing,’ Logan stammered.

A loud snort sounded from Roman. ‘Wow, Dad’s pretty strong, isn’t he, Mom?’

‘Oh,’ Patton breathed with a nervous chuckle, trying to hide how utterly relieved he was. The look of betrayal Logan was directing towards Roman inspired enough amusement for it to be passable. ‘You carried him earlier too, Lo.’

‘I know that,’ Logan defended, his cheeks dusting pink as he looked back at Patton. ‘Just… not with one arm.’

Patton’s eyes trailed down to realise that he was indeed bouncing Virgil easily with only one arm. 

Logan cleared his throat then muttered, ‘It is rather impressive.’

‘Well, I’m a dad,’ Patton giggled lightly. He would never have imagined Logan would be flustered by such a thing. ‘Dads need to be strong for Dad Stuff!’

‘Like catching Moms when they swoon.’

At Roman’s cheeky remark, Logan’s mouth dropped open. The creative side quickly descended into giggles.

Patton witnessed the shock on Logan’s face be wiped away by an evil grin. ‘Oh, I’ll give you something to laugh about.’ Then Roman was being tugged towards Logan’s chest, Logan’s fingers wriggling in his underarms.

‘W-wait! Wait!’ Roman’s legs kicked against the couch as he was dragged into Logan’s lap. ‘Mom, ple-he-he-ase!’ he pleaded through already hysterical laughter.

Patton giggled and shook his head. It wasn’t often Logan tickled their little prince, but when he did he was merciless. Roman’s begging would not help him.

Amongst the raucous laughter and tumbling on the couch, Patton managed to swipe Meeko from the cushion before Roman’s ankles thrust into it with a squeal.

‘Here you are, honey bunny,’ Patton said, worming the toy between his cardigan and Virgil’s fingers.

The weight on his shoulder lifted as Virgil looked up with a curious hum. On seeing that he had been reunited with his raccoon, his eyes sparkled with joy rather than tears. And, as expected, he rattled the toy for what must have been the hundredth time.

‘Why did you jump off of Mama’s lap, Vee?’ Patton asked, fully aware that Virgil might not have been old enough to even understand the question. It was worth a try at least.

The question seemed to break Virgil from the trance the rattle had him under and he started whining and wriggling violently.

‘Baby, baby, it’s okay,’ Patton tried to soothe him. It was only met with louder whines and harder kicks. ‘All right, down we go,’ he sang, doing his best to make the words bounce with joy. It was difficult considering the immense sinking sensation in his stomach as he carefully lowered Virgil to the floor.

‘Is everything all right?’

Patton looked up at Logan’s breathless question, pleasantly surprised to see Roman still in Logan’s lap, finally free of the tickle attack.

‘I just asked him why he jumped off your lap.’

At the reminder, Virgil thrust his arms out towards Roman again and pleaded, ‘Wo… Wo-Wo!’

‘I didn’t do anything!’ Roman’s shoulders raised defensively as he looked to Patton. ‘It wasn’t my fault he fell!’

‘We know that, little prince. It’s all right,’ Logan assured him, embracing him to his chest.

With a gentle smile, Patton realised that Virgil was not blaming Roman for the fall whatsoever. ‘Sweetheart, I think Vee just wants to play with you.’

Virgil’s arms stretched even further into the empty space between himself and the couch. ‘Pway!’

‘Oh, um,’ Roman hesitated, looking at the ground and running his fingers over Logan’s arms, which were fastened around his waist.

‘I would like to stretch my legs anyway,’ Logan said, carefully sliding Roman off of his lap.

There was a short moment of thick quiet. It was over in an instant as Logan quickly rose to his feet, announcing that he would fetch some more toys for them before promptly leaving the room.

Before long, Logan had returned with supplies and the caregivers had set up a baby-safe play area for the boys. A large fluffy blanket lay across half of the living room floor and more than two dozen soft toys sat around the edges of the blanket, cordoning off the area. Around the room, cushions and pillows padded the harsh corners of the coffee table, TV unit, and radiator to avoid any painful bumps.

Roman was as bubbly as ever, overspilling with exuberant playfulness as he finally had his little brother’s full attention.

‘And what doth the King Meeko have to say to this usurper?’ Roman cried regally, bouncing his stuffed dog Bumpkin in his hands to indicate that he was speaking.

Virgil giggled and bounced in place where he sat against the foot of the armchair, carefully propped up by two pillows. His laughter mixed with the rattles coming from Meeko as he shook him.

‘Vee, what do you want Bumpkin to say?’ Logan mumbled from where he sat beside Patton on the couch.

A happy hum rolled from Patton’s chest. It was rare that they got a chance to sit together while both boys were little, but Virgil had gotten surprisingly fussy when Logan tried to sit with him on the blanket. It seemed the excitement of being with Roman had chased away his languid energy and he wanted to sit alone with his brother while they played.

Despite Patton’s increasing panic at seeing his little baby sitting all on his own, not in his arms, Patton felt comforted by Logan’s closeness. It meant he could run his fingers idly over Logan’s thigh as Logan’s arm draped heavily across his shoulders. He took the rare moment of casual intimacy in stride. Usually, they had to sneak around while the boys were asleep to cuddle and kiss. Though since he had spoken so openly about their relationship with Roman in the dining room, and seeing as Virgil was either unbothered by or unaware of their displays of affection, they allowed themselves this intimate moment.

‘A-ababa,’ Virgil babbled, pointing to the soft toy in Roman’s hands.

Roman sucked in a pained breath through his teeth. ‘Oof. That’s brutal, Vee.’ It earned him a bright symphony of babyish giggles.

Over the next few minutes, Patton brought his cellphone out to take pictures of the littles. Then when Logan pointed out that he had taken more than twenty almost identical photographs, Patton rolled his eyes with a playful nudge to his partner. He would have easily taken a thousand pictures if it meant he could remember this day by the adorable scene in front of him, rather than the blunt, heavy regret hammering away within him. 

‘How old is Vee right now?’ Patton wondered aloud, partly because he was watching Virgil through his phone screen. Partly because he just needed Logan’s voice to drown out Roman’s sorrowful words from earlier that kept replaying in his head.

‘Going by his babbling and playfulness,’ Logan replied, ‘I would place him around eight or nine months.’

All of the breath wrung from Patton’s lungs as he snapped his gaze onto Logan. ‘Months?’

Not seeming to notice Patton’s shock, Logan continued watching the boys with a gentle smile and nodded.

‘That’s way younger than he usually is…’ Patton placed his phone down on the couch, feeling shaky all of a sudden.

‘I am not so certain.’ A thumb started circling softly over Patton’s knuckles as Logan explained in a low murmur, ‘At first he told us he regressed from two to five years old. Though I have been observing his behaviour over the past few weeks, and I believe he has been greatly mistaken in this estimation.’

The soft material of Logan’s slacks bunched between Patton’s fingers. ‘What, do you think he’s not that old?’ The new information bombarded him with the horrible thought that he hadn’t been doing his job as a father if he hadn’t even noticed how old Virgil was when he regressed.

Gaze fixed on their boys, lips fixed in an oblivious smile, Logan went on: ‘Nothing I have seen of his regression has suggested he is ever older than two and a half years - though even then, being that old is rare for him.’ He tilted his head in thought, which would have been adorable had Patton’s vision not been pulsating with his frantic heartbeat. ‘I wonder whether he misunderstands developmental stages, or whether it is simply a case of him being unaware of his own behaviour patterns.’

‘What ages does he actually regress to?’ Patton whispered. He stared intently at Logan, desperate for the answer that he had apparently been too incompetent to see for himself.

With utmost confidence, Logan said, ‘Three to twenty-four months.’

Hot tears sprang to Patton’s eyes. ‘Three months…’ he echoed under his breath. Practically a newborn. With a gulp, Patton’s watery eyes settled on Virgil. A newborn who had been alone for so many years.

His wet eyes being glued on Virgil’s steadily blurrier form, Patton was startled when he felt Logan’s arm pushing insistently at his shoulders. Within seconds Patton was on his feet and being swiftly ushered into the hallway. His heart lurched when the blue and purple blob fell out of sight as he was guided past the corner of the doorway and the tears finally fell to his cheeks.

‘Your dad and I are right outside if you need us. Keep playing with your little brother,’ Logan’s voice said, then the door was pulled mostly shut and Patton was surrounded by long, warm arms. ‘What’s wrong, Patton?’

It all happened so quickly that he had no hope of burying his emotions, so Patton didn’t speak. He just clung to Logan and sniffled into his shoulder, thinking about what he had learned. About Virgil being so young and consequently about everything he had ever had to deal with on his own. The loneliness, the accidents, the bullies.

Patton bit his tongue through a wave of overwhelming anger. Over the course of the next minute, he simply took in deep, shaky breaths, glad that Logan did nothing but tap out one-second intervals on his back to aid his breathing.

Then, just as he thought he had overcome the worst of it, a babyish giggle rang from behind the living room door.

A sob wrenched its way from Patton’s throat.

‘My love, please tell me what’s wrong,’ Logan pleaded, his voice gentle though pained.

‘Sorry,’ Patton choked, pulling his face back from Logan’s shoulder to scrub his sleeve over his eyes. When he opened them and caught the utter sincerity in Logan’s concerned expression, the tears started anew. What exactly had Patton done to deserve such a wonderful man?

Patton couldn’t bear to hold back his lament any longer, keeping quiet so as not to upset the boys in the next room. ‘He’s just so - he’s literally just a baby. He’s innocent and - and vulnerable and -’ his voice wobbled and broke off with a shuddered breath. As he recollected all Virgil had told them of the hate he received on his blog, that same boiling rage oozed through Patton’s entire being. It stung and made him tremble. Like poison. ‘I can’t believe those horrible people would bully him for it!’

At the hissed tone, Logan’s face crumpled with a wince. Patton was ready to vehemently apologise for himself - about to claim he had no idea where that came from, it wasn’t him at all - until Logan said, ‘I know. I am angry too.’

There was no way Patton could have predicted how comforting those four words were. They doused the fire in his chest and left him dumbstruck. The raging indignance that had been snapping and flaring within him all afternoon suddenly disappeared and all that was left was a smouldering, pathetic sorrow.

Patton slumped back into Logan’s arms in defeat.

‘He was on his own for so many years, Lo. It’s bad enough he couldn’t look after himself,’ Patton whispered and shook his head, Logan’s shirt rustling faintly with the movement, ‘but on top of that some strangers attacked him just for - for -’

‘For trying to feel safe,’ Logan finished, twining his fingers gently in Patton’s thick hair.

Delighted, squeaky laughter echoed from the living room.

‘Not everyone is accepting.’ The deep voice vibrated in Logan’s chest. Patton held onto him tighter. ‘It is an unfortunate reality in both Thomas’ world and ours, and I understand it is upsetting. As much as we would like to, we simply cannot protect our boys from every possible threat.’

The icy pang of dread in Patton’s gut was twice as toxic as the scalding anger from before. What was Patton’s whole purpose if not to look after his family?

‘Virgil was not completely helpless to it, though,’ Logan continued. ‘He disabled anonymous asks without being prompted to do so. That shows he had the foresight to prevent it from happening again. He was protecting himself.’

Gentle shivers radiated over Patton’s scalp as Logan’s fingernails combed through his hair. ‘That’s meant to be our job,’ he argued weakly, ‘and he didn’t even tell us about it.’

‘Not at first,’ Logan conceded. ‘Still, that does not mean he did not trust us.’ Then Logan pulled back from the hug, leaving Patton cold. ‘You know how reluctant he is to share things that he perceives as embarrassing. Your conversation with him yesterday proves as much,’ he said, turning and walking down the hallway.

‘Where are you going?’ Patton shrieked, his hands curling into tight fists by his sides.

Logan looked back in shock. Then he carefully reached out to pick up the tissue box that sat on the cabinet by the staircase. The movement was slow, and Logan watched Patton all the while as if he were a startled animal that had to be monitored.

Shame flooded Patton. ‘Oh. Sorry, just… not done cuddling you yet.’

A soft smile replaced Logan’s frown and he brought a couple of tissues back to Patton, holding him again and dabbing at his itchy eyes. ‘I didn’t realise you would be competing with a box of tissues for my attention,’ Logan chuckled.

Patton knew it was a joke, of course he did. He loved jokes and he loved that Logan was finally comfortable enough in himself to make them without fearing people's opinions of him. But suddenly the heat in his chest was reignited.

‘Why didn’t you just summon them?’ Patton asked flatly.

The tissue that Logan stroked over his cheekbone faltered.

‘You always say how important it is that we don’t challenge the mindscape,’ Patton went on, glad that this topic had distracted Logan enough from his sudden clinginess. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you summon since you realised the whole - what’s it called?’

‘Equivalent exchange,’ Logan supplied, blushing. It was he who realised that the programming he had set up for their mindscape to follow real world laws of physics glitched whenever the sides took advantage of their powers; summoning an object would make another of similar mass and/or sentimental worth disappear, and breaking the laws of physics would train the mindscape to disparage Logan’s carefully crafted code. For the sake of stability in their environment, they had long since all agreed to sacrifice the convenience of summoning unless in emergencies. Logan most of all, which is why Patton was so shocked when he saw he had summoned a baby book earlier. ‘I understand it was hypocritical of me to break my own rule. I apologise, it won’t be happening again.’

Patton nodded. He didn’t want Logan to think he was upset with him, though he was satisfied that he had redirected the conversation effectively. ‘What was so urgent about a baby book anyway?’

‘I could not think of anything to calm Vee down,’ Logan explained, pocketing the crumpled tissue as Patton’s face was perfectly dry by then. ‘Regretfully, I acted quite impulsively in response to his crying.’

‘Oh no, was the poor thing upset?’ Patton asked, all harsh emotion replaced by softness and concern for his little one.

With a soft sigh, Logan leaned forward to press a kiss to Patton’s forehead. ‘You know how his separation anxiety is,’ he murmured against his skin, lingering there.

Patton frowned at Logan’s chest. ‘He still has separation anxiety?’

‘Of course,’ Logan said, putting some distance between them to look down at him.

‘But,’ Patton blinked rapidly, ‘earlier he was okay with me leaving and he - he hid from me, I thought -’

‘Patton, it doesn’t disappear from one positive experience,’ Logan explained, his arms still wrapped around Patton’s shoulders. ‘It may have been dimmed momentarily though it is still very much present. I believe it may be a permanent fixture of his headspace, simply due to the ages he regresses to and his anxious nature.’

‘Oh… okay.’ It was hard to know what else to say. Earlier Patton had thought he was proud of Virgil for overcoming his separation anxiety. But hearing that Virgil would perhaps never get over it sent a wave of warm comfort over Patton. He wanted to smile, but the fluffy feeling was sullied by something. Something distant that he couldn’t identify. Something unpleasant.

‘Do you know what time it is?’ Logan asked softly, spoken as if it were a love confession.

Patton instinctively reached into his pocket, only to come out empty-handed. ‘Sorry, I must have left my phone in -’

A featherlight touch at his lips made Patton fall silent: Logan’s fingertips. He could feel Logan’s pulse thrumming through them.

‘It’s later,’ Logan whispered, his eyes swimming with utter adoration. Then the soft fingertips were replaced by softer lips and Patton fell into a dream.

They floated together for a while, suspended in the short space between their hearts. After a few gentle pecks and a quick swipe of tongues, Logan pulled away.

‘That was sweet,’ Patton whispered airily, letting his eyes flutter open. Then he saw that Logan was frowning deeply at him.

‘Patton…’ Logan licked his lips and grimaced a little. He started chuckling, ‘Just how much lemon did you put in your tea?’

It wrenched Patton from his dreamy state.

Guilt. The unpleasant feeling that was sullying his emotions was guilt. Guilt because how could he think himself supportive of his family if in the face of their developments his response had been extreme jealousy? So extreme that he had had to literally suck on a lemon to pull himself out of it.

As if that weren’t awful enough, Patton had actually felt happy when he learned Virgil would continue to be distressed by his separation anxiety.  He had failed his baby, just like he had failed his little prince by neglecting him and not recognising his insecurities. He had failed at being a dad; the one thing he thought he knew. Why was he even trying to be a caregiver when he kept accidentally hurting his family?

Roman called loudly from the living room, ‘Dad?’

A switch flipped in Patton’s brain. No, he wouldn’t give up. His boys needed their dad and that had to be him. No matter how many mistakes he made, how wrong he was, Patton would never let go of the only thing in the world he could do. He would never let go of his purpose. The one thing he lived for.

He was nothing if he couldn’t be Papa Patton.

He slipped right past Logan, not caring to check his reaction to Patton’s avoidance. With a huge smile, Patton bounced into the living room. ‘What’s up, my majestic little songbird?’

It was immediately clear why Roman had called.

Where Virgil had been sitting on the blanket before they left the room, giggling and rattling Meeko excitedly, both boys now sat. Roman’s arm was thrown over Virgil’s shoulders protectively, supporting the younger boy as he swayed and blinked slowly. His eyes were decidedly teary and he was tugging at his pacifier again.

‘Oh, my sweet little baby,’ Patton cooed, rushing over to them. The storm of guilt and jealousy cleared from his mind in an instant, leaving him a little light-headed. It was replaced by a muffled determination and affection that made everything seem softer around the edges.

Dropping to his knees, Patton pulled Virgil into a hug. There was a little whimper, and then his shoulder was immediately used as a hiding spot for Virgil’s face. ‘What happened, Roman?’ Patton asked, leaning back against the foot of the armchair. He rested his hand atop Virgil’s head and felt as though his heart had started beating for the first time in hours.

‘He just froze and went super quiet all of a sudden,’ Roman explained, letting go of his brother and collapsing back onto the blanket with a pout. ‘Then he didn’t wanna play anymore.’

‘It’s all right, Roman,’ Logan said, settling onto the floor beside Roman with a reassuring pat on his knee. ‘Virgil can play with you again another time.’ He began clearing the mess of various toys on the blanket, assembling them into an ordered line.

‘Are you upset, baby?’ Patton whispered, rocking Virgil slightly in his hold.

As was to be expected, there was no answer. Virgil only hid his face against Patton more fiercely.

‘Perhaps it was the separation anxiety.’

Patton nodded faintly at Logan’s suggestion, but internally he knew that wasn’t it. In the past, if Virgil was anxious about being separated from Patton he was much more vocal in his upset; sobbing and whining loudly. Plus he certainly hadn’t heard Virgil calling out for him before Roman beckoned him in, so Patton remained doubtful that that was the issue.

Another difference became obvious as Virgil hugged Patton tighter, forcing Patton to hunch down a little to accommodate it. Where Virgil would always scramble into Patton’s lap at being reunited with him, this time he had remained on the floor with his legs pulled tightly to his chest. Patton experimentally nudged Virgil’s knees to convince him to lower them but was met with a whine and Virgil’s whole body tensed up.

As Patton shushed his baby and swayed him back and forth, he just knew. There was no solid thought process he could attribute to his realisation. He thought it must have been his paternal instincts (which sent a rush of pride through him). Though regardless of how he knew it, Patton was quite certain that Virgil’s diaper was wet.

Then Logan spoke. ‘I think I would like to -’

‘I’m handling it,’ Patton assured firmly without looking up from his baby.

There was a short while of silence before Logan spoke again. ‘I was going to say I would like to play Pooh Cards with Roman.’

Shame flooded Patton’s mind. He chased it away by rubbing soothing circles on Virgil’s back.

‘Oh yeah!’ Roman cried, jumping up from the blanket so fast Patton was surprised he didn’t fall face-first to the floor with the momentum of it. As he bounced in place he grabbed and tugged on Logan’s hands. ‘Mom, Mom, Mom, quick, come see!’

There was a slight reluctance as Logan raised to his feet. ‘I said I would play with you Roman. Please do not pull me.’

Patton rolled his eyes. Roman was merely excited, and he knew his own strength. It wasn’t like it hurt Logan. There was no reason for him to be so strict with their little prince.

‘Are you sure you two will be all right?’ Logan asked, and his voice actually wobbled.

Logan - who always kept a steady, calm voice even in moments of distress - was presumably so worried about leaving Virgil with Patton that his voice had actually wavered.

Patton had to unclench his jaw to reply, ‘Of course we will, I’m his papa.’ It came out far more snappish than he had intended. He ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, using the soft tendrils to distract himself from the sinking feeling in his chest. ‘I mean - he’s okay. I know what this is.’ Finally meeting Logan’s gaze, Patton offered a small smile that he knew didn’t meet his eyes.

‘Okay, love,’ Logan said softly, lovingly, and Patton knew he didn’t deserve it.

Then Logan led Roman out of the room to fetch the card game and the papa and his baby were left alone.

For a minute they simply sat, Patton still swaying them gently. Going by the fact that Virgil was no longer whimpering, it was clear the cuddle was soothing him. Patton too felt himself relaxing as their bodies moved as one and their breaths synchronised.

Over the course of those few quiet moments, Patton’s worries all seemed to float away. As if Virgil were a calm breeze, clearing the muggy clouds of guilt and bitterness from Patton’s mind and replacing them with crystal clear skies. Patton nuzzled his nose into Virgil’s hair and breathed deeply, feeling as though he hadn’t tasted oxygen until that very second. There was no other feeling in the world that could compare.

‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s have a proper cuddle.’

There was no protest as Patton shuffled both of them up into the seat of the armchair. Virgil kept a tight hold on Meeko all the while, clearly afraid of dropping the toy. Admittedly, Patton had hoped he would have an opportunity to check Virgil’s diaper during the movement, but their positions simply didn’t allow for it. As soon as they were seated with Virgil on Patton’s lap, the regressor whined and hurriedly wriggled off of his legs to squeeze into the small space between Patton and the armrest.

‘It’s okay, honey,’ Patton murmured, letting Virgil curl up to his side instead. His knees were flush with his chest once more; hiding his lap on instinct, Patton realised.

‘Dad!’ Roman yelled, skipping back into the living room with a bright smile. ‘Mom really likes my game and says I’m really clever!’

Feeling Virgil jolt at the sudden noise, Patton carded his fingers through his hair softly. ‘That’s wonderful, sweetie,’ he said, trying not to feel disheartened by the interruption to his and Virgil’s time together. ‘I think you’re very clever too.’

Roman appeared to vibrate. ‘And - and n-now Mom is gonna play with me!’

‘Well, I hope you win, little prince,’ Patton chuckled, enamoured by Roman’s sweet enthusiasm. Then he put on a loud stage-whisper, ‘Try to get the Tigger card!’

A deep gasp sounded from the doorway. ‘I heard that, Patton!’ Logan entered the room with a look of mock-offence. He held a red sippy cup in one hand and the stack of Pooh Cards in his other. ‘I cannot believe you’re conspiring against me.’

Patton giggled, twirling a lock of Virgil’s hair around his pinky. ‘I’m a supportive dad, I have to be on Roman’s side!’

‘Hm, I suppose I can concede that,’ Logan grumbled, throwing a quick smile Patton’s way. He handed Roman his sippy cup, praising him when he said, ‘Thank you’.

There was a quiet whine from Virgil and Patton rocked him a little. He was probably upset by the others being so close given his shy headspace at that moment.

‘Come here, little one,’ Logan called, moving to sit by the coffee table at the other side of the room. ‘I need you to teach me how to play.’

Roman did not react.

‘Sweetie, that’s you,’ Patton whispered, reaching out to squeeze Roman’s hand.

A blush overtook Roman as he looked over at his mom, a smile forming on his lips. ‘Me?’

‘Of course,’ Logan nodded. By the casual shuffling of the Pooh Cards in his hands, it almost appeared as if Logan didn’t recognise the gravity of calling Roman ‘little one’, though Patton knew his partner better than that. He knew that Logan must have noticed Roman’s need for coddling in the face of Virgil’s younger headspace.

Patton grinned as he watched Roman rush over, sitting as close to Logan as was physically possible.

Then he felt Virgil trying to burrow into his shoulder further and looked down. The boy’s neck was noticeably strained by the action since he had to stretch awkwardly seeing as he wasn’t in Patton’s lap like he usually was.

‘Do you wanna sit in Papa’s lap?’

A slight nod came in reply.

‘All right, on three. Ready?’ Patton secured his arms around Virgil’s back and under his diaper. ‘One, two… three!’ As he easily lifted Virgil onto his lap, he took the opportunity to subtly pat and pinch the diaper through the fabric of his onesie. Definitely wet. With a swell of satisfaction at being correct in his assumption, Patton lowered Virgil to his lap and kissed his head.

It hadn’t gone unnoticed though. Once he was sitting on Patton’s thighs, Virgil immediately whimpered and hid his face behind Meeko.

‘It’s okay, baby,’ Patton reassured, rocking him again. ‘Papa was just checking if you’re still dry.’

The explanation was met with a tiny squeak. Virgil lowered Meeko, revealing his pink cheeks and rattling the toy once more. Though he did not shake it with the same vigour he had earlier; this time Meeko was gently waved to and fro quite lazily. ‘Bababa,’ Virgil mumbled.

Apparently, the diaper check had comforted Virgil and reinforced his younger headspace. Patton sighed and held his baby closer. That was just utterly adorable.

Logan cleared his throat quite pointedly from the other side of the room, and when Patton met his eyes he mouthed silently: Is he dry?

Patton responded with a slight shake of his head. Then, strangely, he felt his lips curl into a smile. Even stranger, Logan mirrored it, and Patton was quite sure they must have been thinking the same thing:

That Virgil had had an accident again, but this time there was no sobbing. There was no hyperventilating. There was no panic attack. In fact, the only indication he had wet himself at all was the fact that he had been pushed back into his sleepy baby state, and that wasn’t a bad thing whatsoever!

Looking down at him now, it was clear to Patton that the diapers were a hugely positive change for Virgil. Despite his lethargic energy, his dimples were showing at the sides of his pacifier which bobbed lazily in his mouth. As he rattled Meeko softly, his eyes sparkled with babyish curiosity. He was calm and happy. It soothed Patton immensely.

oOo

As their time together went on, Patton and Virgil cuddled and played so much that it was impossible for Patton to wipe the cheesy grin from his face. He had rocked Virgil gently, tickled his cheek softly to watch him blush and giggle, dutifully kissed Meeko whenever Virgil held the toy up to Patton with a smile, and now…

‘Are you ready?’ Patton asked in his most exaggerated baby-talk voice. ‘Is my baby ready for more bounces?’

Virgil giggled and kicked his feet a little by Patton’s hips, facing him in his lap. Meeko was hugged tightly to his chest as he nodded.

‘Ahhhh…’ Patton started, securing his grip on Virgil’s shoulders. ‘Bouncy, bouncy baby!’ He bounced his legs on each syllable, making Virgil bob up and down in his lap with little squeals of happiness. ‘What a cute little stormcloud!’

Sweet laughter continued to tumble from behind Virgil’s pacifier. ‘Baba, g-gen!’

‘Again?’ Patton repeated, chuckling. They had been doing this for several minutes by that point, and his legs ached from the constant lifting. But who was he to deny his baby when his eyes glittered with such joy? ‘Okay. Last one, sweetie.’

There was no protest, only a squeak of anticipation. Virgil really was a sweet baby.

‘Ahhhhh… bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy baby!’

Delighted laughter escaped the pair and danced in the air surrounding both of them. Then Virgil smushed his face into Meeko and made a strangled, high-pitched sound. It was a common verbal stim when he was overwhelmed by happiness.

‘Oh my goodness,’ Patton gushed heartily, huddling Virgil closer in his lap and wrapping him in a tight hug. ‘You are the sweetest, squeakiest, most adorable little baby in the whole world.’ He emphasised his point by pressing a great number of kisses to Virgil’s cheek in quick succession.

Virgil suddenly whined quite desperately and pushed at Patton’s chest to be released from his hold. Feeling a rush of concern, Patton held Virgil at arm’s length, still supporting him but trying not to crowd him. ‘I’m sorry, was it a yucky feeling, honey?’ he asked, fearing he had set off Virgil’s sensory sensitivities.

Though Virgil still smiled and promptly held Meeko up in front of Patton’s face. 

Patton bit his tongue through a wide smile. ‘Why hello again, Meeko! Would you like some kissies too?’

‘Mnh,’ Virgil hummed insistently, rattling the toy a little.

Chuckling, Patton leaned forward and pressed a loud, ‘Mwah!’ right on Meeko’s button nose. When he pulled back, Virgil dropped Meeko to his lap and held Patton’s cheeks softly between his hands.

Patton was frozen in place. His brain simply couldn’t handle the adorableness.

‘Dad, Dad, look!’

Patton held Virgil’s hands softly to stop him from squishing his cheeks for a moment. Looking over to the coffee table, he saw that Roman was holding a full deck of Pooh Cards up to him with a triumphant smile.

‘Yay, you won again!’ Patton cheered, laughing when Virgil giggled and poked his cheeks again. ‘Well done, my clever little prince!

‘He’s a complete expert at this game,’ Logan said, stretching his back with a click. It must have been an awkward position to be sat on the floor hunched over the coffee table for so long (though exactly how long Patton wasn’t sure, he didn’t care to check the time.) ‘I don’t think I will ever be able to outsmart you at Pooh Cards, Roman.’

It was clear that Logan had purposefully let Roman win every game from the snippets of laughter and dramatic sighs Patton had heard as they played. Though Roman either hadn’t clocked it or didn’t care about it going by his extreme happiness.

‘How about we have some hunnypots and haycorns to celebrate?’ Patton suggested, knowing the cookies would have been set by then.

‘Why don’t you and Virgil go and pick them for us - only one each,’ Logan hastily added with his eyebrows raised at Patton. It was a fair point to make; as much as he and Logan didn’t care much for sweets and would be happy enough to share one cookie between them, Patton probably would have let the boys have several if that’s what they so wished. He was grateful Logan was there to be a sort of filter for his blind generosity sometimes. ‘Meanwhile, I think Roman and I may need to expel a bit of excess energy.’

By him and Roman, Logan obviously only meant the creative side, who was currently shaking and fidgeting quite energetically in his place on the carpet. It was true that a quiet card game was quite a rare activity for the hyperactive boy, as was obvious by the energy overspilling from him.

Patton nodded, holding Virgil closely against his side as he stood from the armchair. ‘Okay, let’s go pick some yummy cookies for everyone, baby!’

As Patton carried Virgil to the kitchen, he heard Logan set up the soundtrack to The Tigger Movie on the speakers. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of Roman launching to his feet and starting to jump and dance around.

‘All right, can you look up for me, Vee?’ They were stood in front of the rack of multicoloured cookies now. Virgil lifted his head from Patton’s shoulder and made a hum of interest when he saw the treats. ‘Good boy. Now you’ve got a really important job: I need you to pick some pretty cookies for everyone!’

Virgil pointed at himself with a surprise in his eyes.

‘Uh-huh,’ Patton nodded, jostling Virgil further onto his hip with one arm as he picked up a plate from the drying rack.

‘Baba,’ Virgil mumbled, and Patton looked down to see he was pointing at a cookie that had gone slightly wrong. It was originally a haycorn but as the cookies all spread in the oven it had been crowded against the corner of the baking tray, becoming misshapen and wonky. It was coated in pink icing.

‘This one?’ Patton lay the plate on the counter and picked up the cookie to hold it in front of Virgil.

‘Wub!’

‘You love it?’ Patton asked.

Virgil shook his head and pointed at it again. ‘Harp!’

‘Oh, you’re right,’ Patton smiled, looking at the cookie in a new light. ‘It does look like a heart! That means it’s a special love cookie.’

‘Beshul?’

‘Very special.’ He pressed a kiss to Virgil’s head. ‘Just like my special little baby. Do you want this one, honey?’

In response, Virgil suddenly pushed at Patton’s hand and the cookie got lodged between Patton’s teeth. He giggled in surprise, pulling the cookie back out of his mouth. ‘You want this to be Papa’s one?’

‘Wub Papa!’

Just as Patton thought there were no more harsh, icy emotions in him to thaw, he positively melted at Virgil’s innocent love confession. He smiled and placed the cookie on the plate. ‘I love you too, baby. I think me and Mama can share that one. Now do you wanna pick one for your brother?’

After some quite serious deliberation, Virgil had decided on a green haycorn for his brother and a yellow hunnypot for himself. Patton carried both his baby and the plate of haycorn cookies back to the living room. The hunnypot cookie was held in Virgil’s fingers as he suckled on the edge of it (Patton had stored his pacifier in the pocket of his cardigan, making a mental note to invest in a pacifier clip for the future). It seemed their bouncing game had tired him out once more, as Virgil’s head promptly dropped back to Patton’s shoulder once his task was complete.

‘I’m putting your cookies on the table, you two,’ Patton announced over the sound of Tigger’s theme song once they had returned to the living room. He swerved himself and Virgil around Roman as he bounced (and Logan who bounced only when Roman looked at him, then stopped once Roman looked away), careful not to bump anyone as he lay the plate on the coffee table.

Patton then settled into the middle of the couch with a sigh, letting Virgil drop to his lap again. Thankfully the music was not overly loud and Virgil seemed unbothered by it as he sucked quite lazily on his cookie.

‘Is that yummy, sweetheart?’

The soggy cookie left Virgil’s lips and was held up to Patton’s. He humoured his baby by pretending to nibble it and humming in enthusiastic approval. ‘Ooh, that’s lovely! Mm-mm, very yummy. Thank you, Vee.’

It satisfied Virgil as he smiled and continued sucking on it himself, nuzzling further into Patton’s hold.

Soon Roman had gotten tired of bouncing and Logan switched the music to set up the next chapter of their Winnie-the-Pooh audiobook, claiming that it was quiet time now.

While Logan was preoccupied, Roman had finished his cookie deftly in three bites (making Patton giggle) then he approached the couch quite shyly. ‘Dad, can I…’

‘You wanna cuddle too?’ Patton asked softly, smiling in encouragement.

The acknowledgement of Roman’s unspoken request was apparently enough permission for him and he practically jumped into the spot beside Patton.

‘Excuse me, I believe you are in my spot,’ Logan announced on his way back to the couch. As Roman made a noise of offence, Logan pulled him up from the seat to collapse into it himself.

‘Hey, I was -’ Roman started whining, but cut himself off with a yelp when Logan swiftly tugged him back down into his own lap. Roman’s cheeks flushed pink and he clammed up.

‘You were saying?’ Logan asked in a lightly teasing tone.

Patton shook his head at their silliness. It was strange that whenever the two showed affection to each other they seemed to want to set it off with jokes and teasing. Though as Patton rocked Virgil in his lap delicately, he realised it wasn’t really for him to judge how they showed affection. As long as his family was happy, he was happy. And it was clear from Virgil’s sleepy hums and Roman’s blushing cheeks bunched in a smile and Logan’s soft chuckles that his family were all perfectly happy.

His gaze dawdled a little on his partner until Logan’s eyes met his and softened, crinkling with a smile. Patton bit his lip and looked down, feeling bizarrely like a shy, lovestruck teenager.

‘Dad, can I have a kiss?’

The question threw Patton a little, not ever having heard such a blunt request for affection from Roman. It was unexpected but made Patton extremely proud of his son for being brave enough to ask.

‘Of course, little prince!’ He leaned up slightly to press a firm kiss to Roman’s cheek, noting a very light stubble there.

‘And now Vee!’ Roman immediately cried once Patton had sunk back to his seat.

Patton chuckled at Roman’s strange antics, but complied, pressing a softer kiss to Virgil’s head. The baby squeaked and buried his cheek further into Patton’s shoulder. Some gingerbread crumbs littered Patton’s cardigan, but he hardly cared.

Then Roman spoke again, ‘Now Mom!’ His voice was all childish innocence, whereas his eyes screamed pure scheming adult.

A short, surprised huff escaped Patton as he looked over to Logan. His cheeks felt warm.

‘Well,’ Logan hummed, his lips pulling into a shy, crooked smile, ‘I suppose you have kissed everyone else.’ He looked down at Patton expectedly. ‘It’s only fair, right?’

Patton thought his face would split in two with how he beamed with a smile. No more hiding, no more sneaking around. Not needing to be told twice, he pushed forward, thankful that Logan leaned down to meet him in a quick kiss. It was entirely chaste, lasting a fraction of the time all of their previous kisses had done, but it lingered in Logan’s blush and Patton’s smile as they pulled back from each other.

The look of absolute calm in Logan’s eyes instilled such an overwhelming feeling of content in him that Patton had to take a slow, measured breath. Everything is going to be all right, Logan’s eyes seemed to whisper. I love you and I believe in you, I believe in us, and I believe in our family. We’re all going to be all right.

And Patton believed that. He knew things weren’t perfect, that they might never be. That Roman would not overcome his insecurities overnight, that Logan was still struggling to balance sternness and playfulness, that Virgil still struggled with asking for help and that they would have to deal with the repercussions of Virgil coming out of this new headspace likely confused. Reluctantly, Paton also acknowledged that there might have been something to his own caregiver headspace that was less than ideal if his jealousy and clinginess earlier were anything to go by.

Still, in that exact moment, everything was fine. They weren’t going anywhere. They would continue to be a family no matter what. They had plenty of time to address these difficult things. Presently, Patton just wanted to appreciate the rest of the evening in peace.

‘Is everyone ready?’ Logan asked, holding his phone up to show that the audiobook was ready to play.

Virgil breathed deeply, still sucking his cookie. Roman nodded and scurried back in Logan’s lap to lean back against him.

When Logan’s questioning gaze turned to him, Patton simply nodded and shuffled on the couch to rest his head on Logan’s shoulder. ‘Ready.’

A gentle kiss from Logan pressed to his head and Patton held Virgil closer with one arm while reaching to hold Roman’s hand with the other. He knew now that the perfect family wasn’t possible. Though being surrounded by the three people he held dear in his heart, Patton also knew that this was the closest anyone could get.

‘Chapter Ten, in which Christopher Robin gives a Pooh Party, and we say good-bye…’ 

⤛ The End ⤜

oOo

Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡

AO3 link | Bonus chapter

[the-sympathetic-villain]

You Belong With Me - Chapter 6

AO3 | First | Previous | Next | Masterpost

Description: Much to his surprise, after being released from prison for a crime he didn’t commit, Logan has been appointed as a the prince’s new advisor.  

Word Count: 4290

Chapter Warnings: None (Let me know if I missed anything!)

 Logan looked up as they crossed the courtyard to the bathhouse. A massive stone archway hung above the entrance as Virgil finally slowed his pace in front of him. Logan blinked, slowly inhaling the warm, humid air drifting out of the bathhouse.  He tensed as Virgil slowed, shifting his bag on his shoulder nervously as Virgil turned to face him.

Virgil noticed his discomfort and smiled reassuringly at him. “Hey, listen Logan, these are private rooms and I'm going to respect your privacy and stay outside but there are multiple points of entry to each room so I need you to keep talking to me while you’re in there.” Virgil paused. “I know it's a bit awkward and it's unlikely anything will happen, but I don't want to take any risks. Okay?”

Logan shrugged, looking at the ground. “Of all the things that have happened, I think I can handle this.”

Virgil nodded. “Okay, stay here a moment. I'm going to do a check of the area. Keep talking to me though.” Virgil ducked into the room, checking its nooks and crannies for any indication of someone's presence.

“L, keep talking.” Virgil called out to him when Logan remained silent.

“L?” Logan looked up from the floor in confusion.

“I've never been big on using people’s proper names. I hope you don't mind.”

“Oh, uh, no. I actually like it.” Logan said uncertainly, slightly taken aback with Virgil’s familiarity.

“Good. I think it might stick then.”

Logan smiled but his sense of ease only lasted a moment. “Vee…why did Roman pick you to guard me?”

Virgil came back out of the bathhouse, distracted. “I think we’re clear. Just call out if you need anything.”

Logan looked at him, waiting for an answer.

His question seemed to finally register in Virgil’s mind. “Oh, umm, Roman doesn't know if he can trust all of his members of the guard after what happened. Roman asked me because we’ve known each other since we we’re kids. He knows he can trust me.”

“That's not really what I meant.” Logan said offhandedly as he walked past Virgil.

“What did you mean then?” Virgil called out over his shoulder as he leaned up against the stone archway, glancing down the hallways.

“I meant to inquire about your qualifications for aiding in my protection.”

Virgil leaned his head up, looking at the ceiling of the bath house. “Oh, well…this isn't a typical job for me.”

“What is a typical job for you then?”

“That's…a good question.”

“That’s not an answer."

Virgil could hear doubt in Logan’s voice.  He paused, thinking.  “What I do is…complicated. I am whatever Roman needs me to be.”

Silence hung in the air for a moment before Logan spoke again.  “That doesn’t answer my question, Vee.”

“I know, L. Listen, if Roman needs information, I get it for him. If he needs someone tracked down, I find them for him. If he needs correspondence with some of the city’s shadier residents, I set it up for him.” Virgil snorted, rolling his eyes. “If his new advisor needs a bodyguard, apparently I do that too. Whatever he needs, I make it happen.”

Virgil heard Logan mumble quietly. He turned closer to the door frame. “What was that, L?”

He heard Logan clear his throat. “Do you do this for the whole royal family?”

Virgil hesitated. The flat tone in Logan’s voice gave him pause. He softened his tone, hoping to ease Logan’s mind. “No, I serve Roman and only Roman.”

Logan was quiet.

“You don’t have to worry about me being assigned elsewhere, L.”

“L?” Virgil’s muscles tensed as his inquiry was met with silence. He turned to the door, calling out louder.  “Logan?!”

“I'm fine, Vee.”

At Logan’s soft response, Virgil sighed, relaxing back against the wall. He kicked idly at the floor beneath him. “Don't scare me like that.”

“Sorry.”

Virgil winced, hearing the dejected tone in Logan's voice. “It’s all good, L. Don’t worry about it. Just keep talking for me.”

“How did you end up working for Roman?”

Virgil relaxed, leaning back against the door frame, sliding down the wall until he squatted on the back of his ankles, elbows on his knees. “I was a thief before Roman pulled me off the streets. We were both teenagers and I was dumb enough to pickpocket him.

“You pickpocketed a prince?”

“I didn’t know he was the prince. I thought he was just another spoiled noble.” Virgil laughed quietly at Logan’s attempt to conceal his surprise. “And I would have gotten away with it but one of his guards decided to harass me.”

“What happened?” Logan called back. Virgil glanced over his shoulder as he heard the movement of water.

“One of his guards searched me just for the hell of it, found the things I’d nicked from him and turned me over to Roman. The guard nearly threw me in prison but Roman was impressed. He offered to give me the opportunity to train with a master, in return for working for him.”

“That was…fortunate.”

“The break of a lifetime, for sure. If I’d stayed on the streets, I’d probably be dead.”

“Do you ever wish you could leave?” Logan asked, so quietly that Virgil barely heard him.

Virgil looked over his shoulder towards Logan’s voice. “Logan, I can leave. Roman doesn’t own me. I stay because I choose to.

Logan was quiet.

“L, he's not going to keep you here against your will.” Virgil slid further down the door frame, sitting on the ground.

Logan’s tone dropped. “I know.”

“If you did, you wouldn't have asked.” Virgil leaned his head back against the wall, looking up at the ceiling.

“I’m trying to establish a baseline for who he is.” Logan was quiet for a moment. “I want to trust him, Vee.”

“It's okay. You have to figure out who you’re dealing with. I'm not going to fault you for that.”

“What type of training did you do?”

“My master trained me in several martial arts disciplines. They taught me how to use shadows to my advantage and the basics of being undetectable. I also became proficient in skills like lock-picking, escape artistry and other ways of…evading obstacles.”

There was a long pause before Logan spoke again. “Do you kill people?”

Virgil took a deep breath. “I'm not an assassin. I don’t kill unless it’s absolutely necessary.”

“But you have?”

“A few times, it's been necessary. I had no other choice, L. It was me or them.” Virgil sighed. He hadn't talked about this with anyone, not even Roman. Virgil shook his head, looking down at his feet. Roman was right. Logan had a sort of charm he couldn't ignore.

“I'm sorry, Vee.” Logan looked down at Virgil sympathetically as he walked out to the hall, swinging his bag over his shoulder and running his hand through his damp hair.

“It is what it is.” Virgil shrugged his shoulder, standing up off the wall. “Anyways, that's our first obstacle down. I think we should head back to your chambers. Your breakfast will be delivered soon.”

Logan nodded.

Virgil gestured for Logan to lead the way down the corridor and they began their trek back to Logan's chambers. Virgil took a slightly more direct route this time. He was confident they weren’t being followed, at least for now. They were quiet as they walked at a brisk pace upward through the tower.

-

“It looks like we made it just in time.”

Logan looked up to see a boy rolling a cart up to the door just as they approached his quarters. He yawned, quickly thanking the delivery boy. Logan gave the boy a few copper coins before watching Virgil roll the cart inside.

“They don't expect you to do that, you know.” Virgil commented offhandedly.

“Do what?” Logan stifled another yawn.

“Give them money. It's their job to bring you your food.”

Logan shrugged. “I've got more than I need working for Roman. If it helps the kid, I don't mind.”

"Well, it probably makes their morning so it's probably worth it then."

Logan could just make out Virgil smiling at him in his periphery as he lifted the plate covers off the food on the carts. The bowls were filled to the brim with roasted vegetables and fresh fruit. The chef had even sent a small loaf of freshly made bread. Logan swallowed. He knew he should be hungry but unlike yesterday, he didn't have much of an appetite. The sight of the food made his stomach turn.

“I take it you don’t eat meat.” Virgil said, browsing the cart.

“Oh, um, yeah.” Logan paused. “I‘ve never really been able to stomach the texture of meat and the whole concept of… processing it disturbs me.”

“Honestly, same. It's pretty gross.” Virgil grabbed an apple, and lazily draped himself over the side of the couch.

“I wouldn’t have assumed it would affect you.” He leaned against the mantel of the fireplace, picking at his food.

“Why? Because I'm a merciless killer?” Virgil raised an eyebrow at him.

Logan nearly choked on his food. “No, that’s not—"

Virgil flashed him a playful grin. “It's all good, L. It’s a fair assumption. Most people in my field aren't the empathetic types.”

“No, I suppose not.” Logan cleared his throat. “Do you know many other people…in your field?”

“I have to. It's a matter of survival. You have to know who the major players in the city or you risk crossing them.” Virgil continued to eat his apple, strolling over to the cart to pick away at the other food. “The city’s underground isn't forgiving of mistakes.”

“I guess I'd never taken the time to consider it.” Logan said absentmindedly.

“You'll learn soon enough.” Virgil didn't look up as he continued picking through the food on the cart.

“What do you mean?” Logan looked up at him, tilting his head in confusion.

“Well, if you’re going to be advising Roman or whatever you’re doing, you’re going to have to know what's going on in the city.” Virgil said, looking up from the food cart. “I mean, you’ll have me to guide you for now, but you hardly seem the type to be satisfied with my expertise.”

“Practically, it is best for me to garner my information from multiple sources.” He sat his plate on a table, slowly sitting down onto the couch. He stared off into the distance, deep in thought.

“Yeah, I figured.” He cut off a few slices of the fresh loaf of bread, continuing to pick at his other food. He paused, noticing that Logan had stopped eating. “Not hungry?”

“Not really.”

“Jeez. You don't eat. You don’t sleep. What's wrong with you?”

Logan flinched.

Virgil looked over at him guiltily.  “Sorry, L. I didn’t mean it like that.   It’s just... you're not going to last long the way you’re going.”

“I know. I appreciate your concern. I promise I ate well yesterday.” Logan sighed. “Sleep is getting to be a problem though. If I don't sleep soon, I'm going lose my mind.”

“The nightmares really get to you, huh?” Virgil sat down on the couch opposite of Logan.

Logan couldn’t meet Virgil's gaze. He could feel shame burning on his cheeks.

“Hey, uh, listen.” Virgil moved around the couch to sit next to him. He leaned in close. “I've heard stories about the dungeons. I don't know how much of it’s true and I don't know what you’ve been through the last few weeks or in your life but…it's going to be okay. You’re safe here.”

“I-I don't know.” Logan struggled to keep his voice from shaking.

“Listen Logan, you don't have to believe it yet, but I need you to hear it.” Virgil wrapped his arm around Logan’s shoulder, pulling him closer.

“You can't guarantee anything, Vee. You and Roman. Even if your intentions are good, you’re both human beings capable of making mistakes.” Logan pulled away. He moved his legs up onto the couch, pulling them close to his chest and leaning back into the cushions.

“You’re right, L. I can't guarantee you'll never be hurt again, but I'll guarantee you’re not alone anymore.” Virgil pulled his legs onto the couch and crossed them, looking over at Logan.

Logan smiled tiredly at him.

Virgil watched as Logan's eyes started to droop. “Maybe you should try to get some rest.”

“If I sleep now, I won't be able to sleep tonight.” Logan evaded.

“That’s a lie. You look like you haven’t slept in weeks.” Virgil pushed.

“I don't know."

“You look like a soft wind could blow you over.”

Logan was quiet, looking down at the ground.

“Look at me, Logan.”

Logan looked up at him.

“I have had a dozen opportunities to hurt you by now. You’re alone with me and you’re clearly weak. You’re pale as a sheet. There’s not much you could do, awake or not, if I decided to try something.”

“Great.” Logan said bitterly.

“My point is that I haven't done anything, despite clearly having the opportunity. Come on, logically, you know I'm not here to hurt you, L. If I was, something would have happened by now.”

Logan sighed and nodded.

“Go sleep. I'll wake you in a few hours.”

Logan started to stand. “If you insist.”

“I do.” Virgil smiled at him.

“Thanks.” Logan said softly as he wandered out of the room.

Virgil watched Logan until he closed the door before turning back around on the couch to face the door. He leaned back into the corner and pulled out a small dagger to pass the time, twirling it around his fingers.

-

The sun was high in the sky as Virgil laid on couch, picking at the dirt underneath his fingernails with his knife. Logan had been asleep longer than he’d expected but he was grateful. Logan clearly needed the rest. Virgil glanced to Logan's door, contemplating their morning. Roman had been right about Logan. There was something about this guy. Virgil took a deep breath. Perhaps, he simply couldn’t ignore someone who was so clearly in pain.

A small noise jolted him from his thoughts. The lock was moving in the door. Virgil jumped up from the couch silently, holding his dagger close to his body. He was across the room in an instant, pressing his body against the wall behind the door.

The door eased open quietly. Virgil tensed ready to surprise the intruder. He leaned forward, peering around the door. He quickly relaxed.

“Roman!” Virgil hissed.

Roman jumped, spinning around. “Virgil! What are you doing here?”

Virgil looked at him, dumbfounded. “Having a picnic.” Virgil whispered sarcastically. “What do you think I'm doing here?”

“Right, sorry. You just surprised me." The prince glanced around the room. "Where’s Logan?”

Virgil hushed him. “He's asleep.”

“It's the middle of the day.” Roman said, confused.

Virgil frowned. “I know. I don't think he's been sleeping.”

“Oh,” Roman face fell. His eyes filled with concern. “Is he okay?”

“No…or maybe.” Virgil paused, unsure of his words. “He's getting better, I think.”

“What does that mean, Virge?”

“I don't know, princey. I can't tell what’s going on in his head. Sometimes, he seems okay. Other times, he just looks really sad.” Virgil hesitated. “Or scared.”

Roman sighed. “Did he say anything about what happened?”

“No offense, princey, but even if he said anything, I wouldn’t tell you.”

Roman looked over at him with a shocked expression.

“I agreed to protect him, not to spy on him. If Logan wants you to know something, he can tell you himself.” Virgil said sternly.

Roman reluctantly gave in. “Fine, Virge. You're right to not violate his trust. I'm just worried. He doesn’t trust me enough to talk to me.”

Virgil shrugged, turning to jump over the back of the couch, landing softly on the cushions. “He's afraid of the power you have over him.”

“I know. I don't blame him.” Roman stepped around the couch, sitting next to Virgil. “But it's difficult to know he's afraid of me.”

Virgil smiled sympathetically at him. “Give it time, princey. You got me to trust you. It doesn’t get much more difficult than that.”

“I know we'll get there.” He paused. “I only wish we had more time. Something dangerous is headed our way and we need to get out in front of it. My gut's telling me that Logan is going to be important to us making it through this.”

“We'll be ready, princey.”

“We will be, Virge.” Roman sighed, pondering for a moment, before turning back to Virgil. “Listen, take off. Get some rest. I'll take over here for a while.”

Virgil nodded, standing up off the couch. “I promised to wake him soon, so you'll have to do that.” Virgil hesitated. “And make sure he knows I'm coming back, princey.”

Roman raised an eyebrow, leaning back against the cushions. “You really took to him, huh?”

Virgil shrugged. “l couldn’t help it. I know what it’s like to feel out of place around here.”

Roman smirked at him. “I know. That’s part of why I asked you.”

“Yeah, figures." Virgil smiled tiredly over at him.

“Go get rest, Virgil. You’ve earned it. Be back by nightfall. I'll handle things here until then.”

Virgil hesitated, staring at Logan’s door over the prince’s shoulder.

“I'll make sure he knows you’re coming back.” Roman reassured him.

“Okay, princey.” Virgil finally replied tiredly, turning his attention back to Roman. “I’ll be back tonight.”

-

Logan woke with a start, jolting upright in his bed. His muscles tensed as his tired mind registered the sound of voices outside of his door.  He listened intently, sliding silently out from underneath his blankets. Creeping across the room, he kneeled down, holding his ear to the door. The tension in his body eased as he recognized Roman and Virgil’s voices. Unable to make out their word, Logan looked at the door, swallowing back a pang of guilt as he slowly cracked the door so he could hear their conversation.

“Is he okay?” Roman's quiet voice drifted in through the cracked door.

A faint smile formed on Logan’s face as he listened to Virgil try to make sense of his behavior. He was clearly having a tough time pinning down Logan's emotional state but what he had picked up on was surprisingly accurate.

“Did he say anything about what happened?”

A chill swept over Logan realization washed over him that Virgil reported to Roman. Logan silently berated himself for not guarding his words more closely with him. Anxiety settled in the pit of his stomach as he leaned in to listen closer.

“No offense, princey, but even if he said anything to me, I wouldn’t tell you. I agreed to protect him, not to spy on him. If Logan wants you to know something, he can tell you himself.”

Logan sucked in a breath of air, immediately feeling guilty for doubting Virgil. Aside from their initial encounter, Virgil had given him no reason to distrust him. Still, relief washed over him. He wasn't ready to share everything with the prince just yet.

To Logan’s surprise, the prince accepted that Virgil wasn’t going to share rather easily. He leaned closer to the door, listening to Roman's words through the crack. The prince sounded almost disappointed that Logan didn't trust him. and, despite his obvious curiosity, the prince still didn't push Virgil for more information.

“He's afraid of the power you have over him.”

 Accurate, Logan thought. He turned his face down, tracing the bruises on his wrists absently. The power Roman had over him at this point terrified him, though he clearly craved Logan’s trust.

He listened for a while longer but his interest had began to fade. Logan couldn’t help but feel that the rest of the conversation was hyperbole.  Roman couldn’t possibly believe he had any ability to influence the kingdom's future. He was merely a bystander, caught in the wrong place at the wrong time.  

“You really took to him, huh?”  

“I couldn’t help it. I know what it’s like to feel out of place around here.”  

Logan felt heaviness in Virgil’s words. Even with what he’d learned earlier, he felt like he was missing a part of the story. He leaned his head back against the door frame and listened as Roman sent Virgil off to rest. He sensed Virgil felt guilty for leaving. Logan frowned. Virgil couldn't be here watching over him all the time any more than Roman could. He needed rest and time to recover. Eventually, Virgil seemed to give in to the prince's insistence. Logan smiled. He was glad Virgil had decided to take care of himself and, admittedly, pleasantly surprised that Virgil seemed to genuinely care for his wellbeing.         

After Virgil had departed, Logan let a few minutes of silence pass before he decided to come out of his room. He cracked open the door slowly and silently. The prince sat on the chair crouched over a piece of parchment he was reading.

“Good afternoon, my prince.” Logan said quietly. He walked across the room and leaned on the mantel of the fireplace, facing the prince.  

“Logan, you’re awake. Good to see you." Roman glanced up and down at him. "And again, please call me Roman. Truly, I can’t stand the formalities.”  

“Ok, sir-"         

Roman raised an eyebrow.

“As you wish, Roman. Where's Virgil?” He asked, not wanting to let on that he’s eavesdropped on their conversation. Fortunately, Roman seemed oblivious to Logan's nervousness.

“I sent him to rest. He's going to need the energy for when he comes back tonight.” Roman paused. “He was reluctant to leave you, but I insisted." 

Logan smiled.

“How are you today?” Roman asked.

“I'm fine.” Logan said but his smile faltered, and he sighed as he noticed Roman's look of disbelief. “I'm better than I was. My face is still sore, but the bruises are fading.”

“Logan,” Roman began cautiously. “I’m going need to know how you got those bruises.”

“Oh, umm-uhh… I-I mean…” Logan stuttered.

Roman held up his hands, backtracking. “I'm sorry, Logan. Relax. I don't need to know right this moment. I don't want to push you because I know you’ve been through a lot, but eventually, I need to know.” 

“Oh. Okay.” Logan seemed relieved.

“I wish I didn't have to rush you. I'd much rather you have the time to process your hardships before having to re-live them.” Roman paused. “But, unfortunately, this is a matter of the kingdom's security and I can't wait indefinitely.” 

“I know, Roman.” Logan looked away, crossing his arms.

Roman hesitated, feeling Logan closing himself off. “I'm sorry, Logan. Truly, I am. For now, just consider it. That’s all I’m asking of you, okay?”  

Roman watched as Logan snuck a glance up at him, gauging the truthfulness of his statement. “Okay. I’ll consider it.”  

They sat in silence for a few minutes.  

“I am glad you're doing better, Logan.” Roman said, breaking the silence again. “Please, forgive my persistence. I didn't mean to disturb you.”  

“It's okay.” Logan sighed, turning back to him. "I know I need to recount my experiences. I know that it's important information for you to have. Just...every time I think about it though, my throat constricts and I feel like there is a physical blockage keeping me from saying anything."

“That's entirely normal, Logan. I've seen soldiers unable to recount their most traumatic battles even years later.”

“But I didn't go to war. I just…” Logan’s voice trailed off.

“Don't compare one experience to another. You've been through a lot and events like this affect everyone differently."

“I know.” Logan paused, trying to keep his voice from quivering. “I just feel weak, knowing I'm struggling to cope with recent events.”

“Having feelings isn't weakness, Logan.”  

Logan shrugged. Crossing his arms, he moved over to the window. Warm sunlight lit his face as he looked down on the kingdom below.

“Let's table that thought for now, okay?” Roman said, changing the subject. “I have a job for you.” 

Logan continued to stare out the window, watching the people move about the courtyard below. “What do you require of me?”         

“I need you to do some research for me.”  

Logan looked up from the window at him, his curiosity piqued. “On what subject?”        

“I am meeting secretly with a small council tomorrow, regarding the recent attempt on my life. I need information on the poison that was used and, more specifically, where it came from. I need a starting point for identifying the person responsible for the attempted assassination.”  

“Do you have the dart in your possession?”  

Roman nodded. “It was recovered when I was discovered unconscious in the corridor.”  

Logan looked at him seriously. “Roman, I can complete this task for you. I'm certain of it, but I’m not confident I can identify the poison in such a short window of time. I am knowledgeable about local plants because of my apprenticeship but I’m hardly an expert in botany.”       

Roman was quiet for a moment. “I have to admit. I am surprised. I thought you had already identified the poison.”  

“No. I haven’t.”         

“How—” Roman paused, looking over at Logan in confusion. “Never mind. Perhaps, now is not the time for that conversation.” 

Logan watched as Roman pondered his new dilemma. Silence filled the room for an uncomfortable amount of time. Logan shifted his feet uncomfortably. He froze as Roman’s gaze finally snapped up to him.  

“I think I have a solution for you. Let's take a walk, Logan.” He moved from the couch to the door, gesturing for Logan to follow him.

You Belong With Me Taglist: @cas-is-a-hunter @insert-cool-blogname @ironwoman359 @i-know-im-smart @imbadatnames8d @dwbh888

[vmheadquarters]

We’re still playing our game of written hot potato! Dozens of your favorite authors are taking turns to tell a Veronica Mars mystery story. Each writer crafts their chapter and then “tosses” the story to the next person to continue the tale. No one knows what will happen, so expect the unexpected!

Follow the “vmhq presents” and “murder we wrote” tags for all the installments, or read the story as it develops on AO3. --Chapter Twenty-Eight of MURDER, WE WROTE is written by @his-beautiful-girl​​​. And stayed tuned next week for Ch.29 from @louzeyre​ - tag, you’re it!

_____________________________________________________________

CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT by @his-beautiful-girl​

Logan’s brows furrowed, lips turning downward, “Just how the hell did Van of all people become a publisher? Just last year he was still principal of Neptune High.” 

It was Veronica’s turn to grab her phone and do some googling. “It says here that he formed the company ‘Trident Publishing’ three months ago. My guess is that Ruby’s book would have been his first, but with as explosive as it would have been…” 

“Van would have ended up a very rich man.” Logan finished for her. “I can’t speak to his personal life, but he wasn’t above taking bribes for school, Sugarpuss.” His mind drifted back to a conversation after he and Weevil had dismantled Mr. Daniel’s car and then re-assembled it around the flagpole. How a pair of Aaron’s boots had made sure that Weevil was unexpelled. 

She nodded. “I knew he did it for money for Neptune High but I never got the impression that he was trying to gain anything personal from it. Well, other than the time he set it up so I would discover that Moorehead was Trina’s biological father. But that was to oust Moorehead so he could become principal. Not really any financial gain there.” 

Logan rose from the couch, walked to Veronica and wrapped his arms around her, kissing the crown of her head. “Something is really bothering me, Vee. How does she know about Shelly’s party? Book you calls Duncan out for rape.” His voice turned tender, dropping low. “That’s not a detail that you could get from a source, baby.” 

“I don’t know.” Veronica’s voice came out fragile, and he tightened his arms around her protectively. Rested his cheek on top of her head and rocked them slightly. “I only told you and- I- I admitted it one time during the therapy we had to take in school at Stanford. The only other person who knows is Duncan himself, and he would never admit to it being what it is.” 

She turned in his arms and he cupped the back of her head with one hand while running the other up and down along her spine, letting her hide against him. Felt her drawing deep breaths in and out and centering herself again while he continued to offer her love and comfort. Logan smiled against her hair when she stood straighter and drew in a deep breath. It’s true that they differed from when they were in high school and in college. They had gotten their shit together and learned communication was the key. But some things remained the same, and he was glad for that. His girl was still strong and determined. He knew if anyone could solve this, it would be Veronica. He was there for the assist. 

Logan pressed another kiss on the crown of her head before she pulled back slightly, face tilted upward, allowing him to brush his lips across hers tenderly before she murmured. “After this is over, we should go on vacation. Someplace warm and sunny and with no murder, please.” 

He nodded in agreement. “That sounds perfect.” 

They stayed quiet, holding each other for a few long moments before the reality of the situation broke through their peace. 

“So I think the question we need to ask ourselves is whether the focus of this book is on exposing Neptune, or whether it’s a book on exposing the Kanes.” Logan finally allowed himself to break the silence. “I know there is a lot… okay, most of the focus is on us, but what if we’re just the players that are being moved around to tell the story? Especially given that we had such close ties to the Kanes or to the events meant to expose the Kanes.” 

Veronica’s eyes narrowed, and her teeth sank into her bottom lip. “You could be right. Maybe we’re the red herrings. It’s about exposing the Kanes without just writing a direct book about them. That still doesn’t explain so much of the information that this source and/or Ruby has though.” 

“Also, this ‘Jen’ person is still bothering me. I know we can’t find any clue she exists, and she wasn’t a roommate of Mac’s but I feel like she represents someone. This might be the one person Ruby used a pseudonym for.” Veronica stepped away from him and paced in front of the enormous windows in Dick’s living room, looking out into the ocean. “Logan, I want to get into Ruby’s apartment to see if I can find anything.” 

He nodded; this request not surprising in the least. “Van first? Then Ruby’s? Then how about we pick up dinner and eat at your dad’s tonight? I’m missing my other favorite girl and you could use some Pony snuggles of your own.” 

Logan’s heart jumped as her face lit up at the mention of their dog, and he knew it was the right call. Now they just had to get around town, unnoticed by the paparazzi. 

*** 

An hour later, Logan and Veronica stood on the front porch of a nice, but modest residence. He rapped on the door sharply three times and they waited. He always found it interesting the way they stood when working on a case together. At any other time, they would hold hands or his arm would be around her shoulder and hers around his waist; however, in situations like this they stood together with their sides barely touching, both drawn to their full height. Both aware of the other and yet wanting to radiate that they were each dangerous on their own to whoever they were about to crush. 

Logan was about to rap on the door again when sounds within indicated that the first knocks were being acknowledged. Locks clicked and then the door itself swung open, revealing a haggard-looking Van Clemmons. “Veronica Mars and Logan Echolls. I wondered when you would show up. Come in, please.” 

“Well, you said that life had gotten boring without me.” The words dropped wryly from her mouth and the corner of Logan’s mouth twitched in response. 

“Life without you is always boring, Bobcat.” He cast an adoring look at her before turning his attention back at the man waiting in the doorway. 

Mr. Clemmons stepped back and gestured with his hand for the couple to enter. Placing his hand on the small of her back lightly, Logan let Veronica go first and then followed. Not that he felt Clemmons was a threat, he just felt better having her back protected. 

The living room was to the right of the entryway, and Clemmons indicated they should go there. “Please, take a seat and make yourselves comfortable. Can I get either of you something to drink?” 

Both shook their heads, taking a seat on the couch, before Logan smirked. “Are you getting the sense of what it felt like to be on the other side of that desk of yours, Van?” 

“Mr. Echolls, I seem to remember you being on the other side of that desk more than a few times.” Van’s voice came out dry but heavy, tired beyond his years. 

Veronica snorted, very unladylike, which made Logan grin. “Yeah, and how often were there actual consequences for any of those incidents? Just how much money did you make for the school? More importantly, how much of that money made it to your pocket rather than the schools?” 

Clemmons held up his hands placatingly and sighed. “I know what you must think but the only time I ever did anything for my benefit was when I used you to expose Principal Moorehead. I admit to taking money in return for punishments not happening, but all of that money went to Neptune High in one way or another. I made sure the students had the best that I could give them in my years as principal.” 

“Why did you retire? Why suddenly go into publishing? Not your typical career move and you don’t have the background for it. It also begs the question of the money issue. Where is the money coming from to start the business?” Veronica fired off the questions one after the other, and Logan tried to tell himself that being turned on right now was not the appropriate response. 

Van dropped his head into his hands, scrubbing it hard, and muttered. “I have a silent partner who put up the money after they heard the pitch for the book.” 

Logan leaned forward. “What was the pitch for the book exactly? Because it isn’t about some murder mystery, even if that is what it’s trying to pass itself off as. So why don’t you just tell us the truth. Someone is already dead. I wasn’t her fan, but I never would have wished Ruby dead, and I don’t think you did either. But you both got yourself mixed up into something deep. You know, the only person who has a chance at figuring this out is Veronica, so let her, Clemmons.” 

The silence that took over the room felt heavy and oppressive. Minutes ticked on and on and he wondered if they would get the information they were after or not. After an interminable amount of time, the older man nodded in agreement, letting out a loud sigh. “Yes, maybe you are the only ones I can trust with this.” 

Logan started when Veronica’s hand slipped into his, but was more than happy to thread his fingers through hers. It felt like they might finally get somewhere with this. Finally, get some answers that could make things make sense. Nothing could have prepared him for what came next. 

“Della- I’m sorry, Ruby came to me with the idea she had for a book. Claimed she had been doing research for the past year and wanted to write a book about a powerful family that had their claws in everything. A family that rolled around in the dirt and was covered in mud, though nobody could see it. She also claimed that members of this family had hurt people badly, and she wanted to right some wrongs and give those that they had hurt justice. She was talking about the Kanes and I should have known better--” 

Clemmons scrubbed over his face again, and when he looked up, his gaze focused on Veronica. “But I knew she was right. I knew a lot more than I could ever tell. I listened to the stories during those years at Neptune High, and I even did some of my research. I may not know all the stories exactly, but I know that the Kanes are responsible for so many things behind the scenes in this town. When she told me of the way she wanted to write the book without coming right out and accusing them I thought it would be okay. I went to Casey Gant and floated a semblance of the idea around to see if I might get him interested, but he turned it down. Then I got a surprising phone call from someone willing to not only put up the money to publish the book, but wanted me to be the face of the publisher. I let greed take over my thinking.” 

Van’s head dropped into his hands again, and Logan couldn’t decide whether or not to feel sorry for him. Veronica vibrated next to him, like she would explode if they didn’t find out who this mysterious person is and within the next minute. 

“Who?” The question was more a demand and came out sharp on her tongue. “Who is it?” 

“Troy Vandegraff,” Clemmons muttered into his hands. 

“Well, fuck me sideways. I did not expect that.” Logan breathed out, wide-eyed while turning to stare at Veronica, who looked just as taken aback. 

“Who was Ruby’s source, Clemmons? You must know. She couldn’t keep a secret to save her life.” The words came sharp and to others may sound bitter, but Logan knew the truth. That hardness Veronica projected was covering the hurt that she felt over Ruby’s death. Solving this case was the only way she knew how to help find some closure in this. He squeezed her hand gently in support. 

“I was, or at least I was one of them.” A familiar voice jerked their heads up and their attention to the hallway where a pale, thin figure stepped out of the shadows. 

Logan felt his gut churning, blood getting hot. He pulled Veronica closer to him protectively. “Lianne Mars.” He spit out the name like a curse. 

[randomfandomfiction]

An Introduction to Ereri

All your required reading in one place!

king of carrot flowers by unhappy_turtle (23k, Mature)

It's a Sunday. He's washing his favorite mug and trying not to pay too much attention to the funeral that's going on across the street.

---

(Levi lives across the street from a cemetery and Eren's father has recently passed away.)

Corp de Ballet by Dominura (26k, T+)

The Royal Stohess Ballet school is almost as esteemed and as world renowned as the Royal Stohess Ballet Company itself. It brings students in from far and wide with the hope that they too could join the ranks of the most elite dancers in the world.  Mikasa and Eren can hardly believe they’ve made it this far, the chance to be able to dance in the company of their dreams fills them with hope. Along the way they meet new people, make new friends, and enemies. However, they learn that you can never judge a book by its cover.

In my opinion this is one of the more underrated Ereri fics - I think it deserves a lot more love because I really really enjoyed it

Fireside by twisting_vine_x (37k, Explicit)

A/N: Essentially, the one in which Levi ditches his car and ends up half-frozen on Eren’s doorstep, and then falls harder for Eren in four days than he’s ever fallen for anyone in his life.

Basically, this story shall contain roaring fires, hot chocolate, a whole roster of adorable animals (cause Eren’s spending his reading week watching over Hanji’s farm in frozen Alberta, whereas Levi is an author who lives in Vancouver), a bunch of cuteness with Eren and Levi bonding over nerdy shit; and, essentially, Levi and Eren being trapped together for days, with both of them realizing just how compatible they are, and with both of them aware of the fact that they're from different worlds and live entire provinces apart.

- - -

 Levi’s known this kid for maybe four hours. There’s no reason for him to feel this protective.

 The wind’s still howling outside, though, and Levi still can’t feel his toes.

 Eren may well have saved his life, by opening his door.

 Maybe Levi’s allowed to feel a bit protective in return.

Art Of War by catsonfire (52k, Explicit)

Noisy neighbors, nursling dinosaurs, satanic box cutters, shitty convenience store management, the word 'fuck', hereditary (but not really) homosexuality, beer and ramen, pennies, truckstops, strippers, closets, semi-public defacing, rings, house parties, "recreational" drug use, accidental rendezvous, toxic stew (don't eat the stew), nice abs, housewives--batteries not included, over-educational movie sessions, copious domesticity, kittens named after landlords, a shit joke at participating locations, and many, many happy endings. A modern AU in which Eren moves into the apartment directly above Levi's.

Hands Clean by Ashke (55k, Mature)

Eren's your typical high school student, despite his anger management problems. One day, he has to visit the nurse's office to only discover that the usual nurse has been replaced by a man with steel gray eyes and a mouth with no filter. Eren's interest is piqued.

A classic and must-read! Very well-known amongst fanfic readers

The Little Titan Café by pocketsizedtitan (65k, T+)

Just another cliche AU in which Eren works as a barista in his mother’s café, specializing in latte art. And then there’s Levi, who’s not exactly your typical patron, because, well, he’s blunt and rude (which Eren supposes isn’t that much different from regular customers) but mostly he just confuses Eren’s poor little homosexual heart.

I have always loved this fic! It’s one I regularly reread, just because I love the slow burn and development of the relationship between these two. This one is also pretty much a fandom staple and very well-loved

half light by foreverautumn (66k, Not Rated)

He wouldn't say that they're friends, really. They're not quite just acquaintances either; the more he thinks about it, Eren's not sure how to describe their relationship. They sort of... tolerate each other, in different ways.

But yeah, the more he thinks about it (and he does think about it quite often), Eren thinks that he'd like for them to be friends.

(AU where Eren tries to figure out what you do when friendly feelings turn into something more.)

Love.exe by anonymous (69k, Not Rated)

All Levi wants to do is drink tea, run his goddamn convenience store, and not have to deal with this kid who keeps coming in to leech his wifi bringing down high-end corporations.

Please note you need an ao3 account to read this ^

Holding Hands In The Rain by twisting_vine_x (106k, Explicit)

A/N: Basically the one with thousands of words of Eren and Levi crushing like crazy on each other, and being absolutely freaking ridiculous together, and slowly falling in love against the backdrop of modern-day Vancouver.

- - -

Levi only realizes how much he’s not paying attention to anything around him when there are shoes beside the puddle he’s drawing. Looks up to find Eren standing right there in the rain, the hood on his jacket pulled back, and his hair plastered down against his head. He’s just standing there, and – he’s watching Levi with an expression that looks so fond it actually hurts; and Levi’s just managed to get his breath back and open his mouth when Eren moves closer, and Levi loses his air all over again.

Chasing Summer by Dressed_in_Darkness (115k, Explicit)

Two more weeks left before Levi Ackerman graduates from high school and leaves the small town of Shiganshina. He can't wait for the moment that he can finally put that dreadful town behind him. But when a Grisha Jaeger becomes the new family doctor, bringing along his ill son that breathes new life into the town he desperately wants to escape, will Levi find a reason to stay?

I normally reeeeally dislike first-person written fics (I just find them super difficult to get into and generally won’t read them) but this is an exception! Honestly I can’t even explain how big a deal that is for me

An Unlikely Alliance by Monsoon (117k, Explicit)

When Scouting Legions main trading partner, Wall Maria, is experiencing economic strain from constant attacks by the neighboring kingdom Titan, the leaders of the two nations come to an agreement: Scouting Legion will provide military protection in exchange for land and financial aid for the still growing nation.

Their new alliance will be sealed with the union of King Jaegar's son Eren to the Scouting legions strongest soldier, Lance Corporal Levi. But how will the cold, impassive soldier warm to his new husband, who is far from the weak, spoiled princess he was expecting?

1994 by Vee (124k, Explicit)

Before cell phones. Before the Kardashians. Before internet porn. The year is 1994. Eren, Mikasa, and Armin, poor kids from the wrong side of the tracks, have been transferred with the rest of their neighborhood to the posh, uptown Trost High (Home of the Titans). Mikasa and Armin seem to fit in well enough, but Eren isn't quite so lucky. Of course, most of this has to do with Eren's personality. When he accepts a bet to lose his virginity (and actually prove that someone likes him) by the end of the semester, it's hard for him to deny the improbability of winning. After all, the only one he seems to be talking to these days is the weirdly pretty (and just plain weird) goth working at the donut shop down the street...

An absolute classic and must-read! Much loved and well-known, this is definitely a fandom staple

The Strange and the Usual by lalazee (126k, Explicit)

When Eren finds himself stuck in what is essentially a halfway house for supernaturally inclined misfits, there's no stopping the veritable shopping list of events that leave him pushed closer and closer to ex-exorcist, Levi. But when is it ever that simple?

I. LOVE. THIS. I have recced ^ before and I will continue to do so for a very long time!! This is my absolute favourite Ereri fic. It has been years since I read this for the first time and I have never forgotten it. Please read and support the author!!

Click on my Heart by CocoaChoux (140k, T+)

Levi is a well-known, full-time let’s player on YouTube who just so happens to take care of his deceased relative’s child. Content with his punk/gamer life, he did not expect to one day click on a video of fellow YouTuber, QueenPastelEren. He especially did not expect to be so smitten within the first few seconds of watching the pastel goddess with green and gold eyes.

This was one of my first Ereri fics and I’ve never forgotten it. Eren is lovely, Levi is adorable, they are so cute together, and the way the author expresses body dysphoria here is really excellent to read and understand.

Haute Couture Love by SailorHeichou (163k, Mature)

Eren Jaeger is sharp, determined and hard working but doesn't consider himself beautiful or good looking in the least. When he lands his dream job, working at Survey Corp Publications as the Executive Assistant to a high-end Fashion magazine's Editor-in-Chief, his life is turned Topsy-Turvy. All he wants to do is work hard to become an Editor, but his boss Levi seems keen on making his life a living hell.

Levi is a notorious playboy who gets what he wants both in and out of the bedroom. As Editer-in-Chief of New York's best selling high-end Fashion Magazine, Levi is forced to work with an overly determined, hot-headed brat with a rat's nest for hair and the most incredible eyes he's ever seen and it's all because of Erwin Smith.

Another fic that makes me put aside my dislike of first-person narration!! I love sassy Levi!!

[hartlessfiction]

Title: Fantasy Football Rating: Explicit Fandom: Teen Wolf Relationship: Sterek Tags: College AU, Human AU, Quarterback Derek, Quidditch Chaser Stiles, pinning Derek, Artist Derek, Alive Hales, past Derek/Kate, side pairing Boyd/Erica, Rich Hales, Stiles plays Club Quidditch, Fluff, Smut,  Art: @benaya-trash Updates: Every Friday, follow tumblr tag: SterekFF

Summary: Derek Hale, first-string quarterback for the U.C Berkeley football team is an All-American, red-blooded male, straight as an arrow. Well, at least, that’s what everyone around him believes. What they don't know is that he’s crushing hard on the school's Quidditch Club star player. When his coach forces him to recruit said Quidditch player, Derek’s life becomes a lot more complicated.

Read on A03

“Hey, man,” Boyd calls as he strides up the bleachers towards where Derek’s sitting.

As casually as he dares, Derek closes the sketchpad he has balanced on his knees and drops his forearms over it, sandwiching it against his thighs. Boyd doesn’t know he draws and he’d like to keep it that way.

“What’s up, Boyd?” He asks, tugging the brim of his U.C. Berkeley baseball cap lower over his eyes.

“Not much,” Boyd says, as he flops down on the bleachers next to Derek. “What are you doing back here?” He sits forward and scans the crowd, his eyes skimming over the strangely dressed players on the field.

There are about twenty kids sprawled across the stands; some doing homework, a few just hanging out, one girl who’s smoking. Derek curls his lip every time the light breeze drags the smoke in his direction. There is also, however, a small group down in front carrying posters, banging on cowbells and singing songs. They’re all dressed in robes and scarves, despite it being late spring.

“What the hell is going on down there?” Boyd asks, his brows arched as the two teams move around each other.

“Uh, I have no idea...” Derek lies, tugging on the brim of his cap again. He knows exactly what’s going on here, and has for months.

He stumbled upon the university’s Quidditch Club two semesters ago but had only really started following its progress once Gryffindor got their new chaser. Derek’s eyes flick towards the players, finding number 24 easily and watching him streak down the field in the strange little hop-run all the players have to do, the long dark handle of his broom clutched snugly between his lean, muscular thighs. Derek presses his sketchbook down onto his lap, letting the bottom edge dig, almost painfully, into his crotch, successfully quelling his burdening arousal.

He and Boyd watch in silence for a while--well, Derek watches number 24, his fingers itching to reopen his sketchbook and get back to drawing the player. He isn’t exactly sure what Boyd is watching. Currently, Gryffindor is up by over thirty points, with number 24 sprinting down the field in an impressive display of agility to fake out the keeper and throw the quaffle in for another five. Derek resists doing the little fist bump and whispered woohoo he normally does when 24 scores.

“This is going to sound strange, but don’t you think 24 would make a good receiver?” Boyd asks, his sneaker tapping against the metal floor of the bleachers as he thinks.

Internally, Derek groans. He’d love to have 24 receiving for him. He’d love to have 24 laid out flushed and sweating, chest heaving, catching everything Derek could throw at him. Pinching the bridge of his nose, Derek draws a slow even breath before he responds, pushing the image of number 24’s flushed, smiling face out of his mind.

“I guess... I haven’t really been paying attention.”

“Maybe you should?” Boyd points his chin down at the field expectantly.

Derek clears his throat as 24 high fives a pretty brunette girl. His face is flushed, the dark spots of his moles standing out against the red blush that's layered over his normally pale skin. He’s sweating, and Derek can see the way his fluffy brown hair is darker at his temples and the nape of his neck. Derek swallows and almost chokes as his mouth floods with saliva, wanting to taste the chaser’s salted skin.

The game sets up again and the referee tosses the quaffle into the air. The moment the ball leaves the refs hands 24 is already leaping for it, his reflexes and timing impeccable, snatching it easily. Derek grits his teeth as the guy's thighs flex, well-defined muscles twitching in an effort to keep the broom snugly tucked into the vee of his thighs. He hits the ground and does a beautiful fake out; twirling, spinning around the other chaser and deftly dodging a squishball batted at him from one of the opposing beaters. 24 barrels down the field with long elegant strides and Derek has to drag his eyes away as his temperature rises from what is, quite frankly, an obscene display.

“Well?” Boyd pushes, his brows arched.

“I mean, I guess.”

“You know Liam is graduating right?”  

“Of course I know. I have to know. I’m the quarterback.” Derek rolls his eyes.

“Yeah, but do you also know Coach is putting out feelers at local high schools to recruit a new receiver as it is, so….”

“So why not bring him someone with some talent instead of a freshman who has something to prove?” Derek fills in with a sigh.

“Yeah, well, think about it, the kid has some skills. And we need the talent.” Boyd smacks Derek on the shoulder as he gets up. “See you at practice.”

“Yeah man, see you.”

Derek sits in a daze as Boyd disappears back towards campus. He loses track of time and the score of the game, he’s so consumed with the idea of having to talk to number 24, let alone playing football with him. The whistle on the field blows harshly and Derek jumps, eyes lifting in time to watch the Gryffindor team swarm his boy, number 24 enveloped in bodies, shouting and cheering.

Absently, he flips open his sketchbook, sighing over the half-finished drawing of number 24 mid-sprint, face cracked into a smirk as he throws the quaffle. Derek snaps the book closed–just one of many half-finished sketches he’ll never get a chance to complete. Quietly, he slinks from the stands and slips off back towards the gym. It’s a hike from the forgotten, forlorn backfield the Quidditch Club plays on, but Derek needs the distraction. The back of his neck still burns with embarrassment at being caught out there by Boyd, but at least he didn’t catch on that Derek was there for number 24 more than he was for the game.

He trots up one of the sloping hills, sketchbook tucked under his arm. He’ll get an upper body workout in before football practice this afternoon, and maybe exhaustion will help keep his mind off number 24’s long legs and perky backside.

Yanking the helmet from his head, Derek snarls, “That's the third fucking interception today, Greenberg!” He turns his attention to Coach. “You’ve got to be kidding with this! Put him back at tight-end!”

“What do you want from me, Hale? He's the best we’ve got right now,” Finstock snaps back, slapping his clipboard down onto the bench. “You think I like this? You think I want Greenberg! GREENBERG, THREE LAPS FOR BEING, WELL… YOU!” Coach shouts and then runs his palm over his forehead and into his hair.

“Hale’s got someone,” Boyd offers and Derek's eyes go wide with panic before he can school his expression.

Flinstock turns narrowed eyes on Derek as the rest of the team comes off the field for water.

“No. I don’t,” Derek grits out around his clenched teeth. This cannot be happening.

“You do…?” Flinstock says, eyes wide for a moment. “Hale, I don’t care who it is, if they’re a better wide receiver than Greenberg I want them, yesterday!”

“Coach, I don't have anyone!” Derek says as firmly as he can manage but Boyd once again calls his bluff.

“Number 24, dude,” Boyd says like he’s being fucking helpful, like Derek didn’t immediately think of number 24. Like Derek isn’t constantly thinking of number fucking 24. “You know, from last week, that strange shit with the brooms.”

“Are you talking about Stilinski… from the Quidditch club?” Jackson says, his face pinched, streaks of sweat and dirt smeared over his temples.

“No.” Derek grunts.

“Yeah,” Boyd says at the same time. “Do you know him?”

Derek groans, dropping his head back and closing his eyes.

“I mean, I guess I do. We went to Beacon Hills together, he was on the lacrosse team. I heard he was ok until he hurt his shoulder.” Jackson lifts his water bottle and squeezes it a few inches from his mouth like the tool he is, instead of just drinking from it. “I was a starter before I transitioned to football, so I didn’t really pay attention to who was warming the bench or why,” he says dismissively.

Derek sees his window and jumps for it. “Bum shoulder? That sucks, guess I don’t have someone after all.” He grabs a towel and his water bottle ready to make his escape.

“Lacrosse and football use a completely different set of muscles, he might be open to playing for us,” Flinstock says, bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Talk to him, Hale. I don’t care what you have to do to get him out here, but I want to see him next practice. Put him through his paces.”

“Coach,” Derek grunts.

“Do it, Hale, anything it takes or I’m starting Jackson against UCLA.”

“‘Bout time,” Jacksons interjects, a smug grin on his face.

“You wouldn’t,” Derek snarls, tossing his towel down.

“I would, I will. We’re dead in the water without a receiver who can catch what you throw and you know Greenberg… GREENBERG, GET UP!” Flinstock charges out onto the field, shouting at Greenberg about his stamina. The poor kid’s on his knees tipped forward, his helmet to the turf, arms spread out to his sides. Derek can almost hear his wheezing from here. He looks like a stiff breeze could knock him over and sure enough, as coach gets to his side it only takes a small boot to his butt to have Greenberg flopping flat and starfishing out in the middle of the field.

“Don’t bother with Stilinski, Hale,” Jackson says, smirking around his water bottle. “Just forget about him, you know I was made for first string anyway. It's time you learned your place.”

“You fucking…”

“Derek.” Boyd slaps a hand on Derek's chest stopping him from engaging Jackson. “Don’t listen to Whittemore, he’s an idiot. Isaac and I will come down to the back field when you talk to this Stilinski kid. We’ll have your back.”

Having support is not what Derek is afraid of–if anything he’d prefer if Boyd and Isaac weren’t there to see him embarrass himself in front of number 24… Stilinski. Even just knowing his name sends butterflies swooping through Derek’s stomach.

“Fine, whatever,” Derek snarls, because fuck his life. He couldn’t just make it two more years watching 24–Stilinski–from the safety of the bleachers, could he? No, of course he couldn’t. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses under his breath, storming after the rest of his team towards the locker room.

“Okay!” Isaac says a while later as he flops down on the bench next to Derek. He’s got a towel wrapped around his hips and he smells like coconut shampoo. “I hear we’re going on a recon mission?”

“We are not going on a recon mission,” Derek states, tossing his jersey in the footwell of his locker with more force than necessary.

“But Boyd said…”

“I don’t fucking care what Boyd said. I’m the quarterback of this team, you guys listen to me.”

“Yeah, but we aren’t on the field right now so… what’s going on? Are we getting you a new receiver or what?”

“We are,” Boyd chimes in as he rounds the end of the lockers, pulling his shirt over his head. He’s already in his boxers, freshly cleaned from the showers, and if they weren’t such good friends Derek would take a moment to admire the thick muscles of his thighs. But they are, so he doesn’t, turning back to his locker and trying not to bang his head against the low shelf in frustration. “Just gotta figure out when they play next,” Boyd finishes, coming to stand on Derek’s other side.

“Tuesday,” Derek says without thinking, then grimaces, internally groaning.

“Ooookay….” Isaac stretches out the word and Derek sighs.

He’s got their whole season memorized, he knows the days they practice, who they’re playing and when their games are. Derek also knows that number 24, the brunette chaser (number 11), and one of their beaters, a blonde girl (number 69), had to petition the student council twice to keep their practice time on the backfield. Derek didn’t understand why the school was giving them such a hard time–that field’s crap anyway, and no-one uses it, not even the D3 soccer team.

“So, tomorrow then?” Isaac pushes, leaning back to catch Derek’s eye as he tries to hide his head in his locker again.

“Yeah, I guess. I saw a flyer earlier…. In, uh, the quad.” Derek scrambles to cover his blunder. Gryffindor plays Hufflepuff tomorrow and those are Derek's favorite games. Hufflepuff always has such good strategies, and their plays are complicated, but their stamina is low. Number 24–Stilinski–always runs circles around them.

“Riiight…” Isaac says, again, drawing out the word. Derek can feel him and Boyd exchanging looks behind his back.

“Right.” Derek grunts, grabbing his towel and stepping over the bench. “Guess we’re on for then.” He bites out, stomping off towards the showers.

He tries very hard for the rest of the day to no think about Stilinski.

A/n: this fic will update every Friday under the tag SterekFF, and my writing tag Hartless writes, you can also subscribe on A03