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#(mentioning also a little life and sonnet... whichever one it was)
heartyearning · 3 years
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Top 10 petty things that don't matter but which I care about greatly (and are recently relevant): please tell me you are aware that the song of Achilles is a retelling. Like, put my mind at ease that you know calling something "tsoa vibes" just because someone mentioned Achilles and Patroclus is completely meaningless unless you are specifically referring to the retelling by Madeline Miller. I am begging.
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biomeberry · 7 years
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My Equator (Patton’s Guide to Fatherhood #1)
Fandom: Thomas Sanders 
Pairings: Logan/Patton as a married couple, but this fic is family fluff so it’s not the focus :3
Summary: After getting their first son, Roman. Patton and Logan decide to adopt again. Virgil just wants to write poetry. Oh, and maybe have a family, that'd be nice. 
Read it on AO3
Everyone is tagged at the end! If you want me to tag you in future stuff, I’ll put a link to the post at the end! 
Patton stares out the window, watching the scenery fade from the familiar suburbs to dull cityscape. Logan squints as the sun hits his face, muttering something about safety, and even quieter, about the moron that just cut him off. Their son, eleven year old Roman, sprawls across the back seat, singing a Broadway song for the umpteenth time. Logan’s eyes flit up to the mirror to study him. “You've been going since this morning. Make sure you stay hydrated.” It's not aggressive so much as it's concerned parenting, so Roman just shrugs. “You said the best way to memorize is repetition.” “Well, don't let your audition get in the way of studying. Did you finish your assignment?” Roman stutters for a second. “Aw, come on! You teach that class! Give me a break.” Patton smiles before intervening. “Alright now. Honey, I'm sure Roman will finish it just fine. And Roman, listen to your father. He’s sometimes right,” “I’m always right!” “And you’ll feel better after you do the assignment. Besides, I'll give you a Patton the back just for the effort!” Both Husband and son groan, momentarily united in their hatred for Patton’s puns. He sometimes jokes that the best part about finally being a father was the opportunity for dad jokes. “Alright, here it is.” St. Joan’s Orphanage. The very place they'd adopted Roman several years ago. Logan slips out of the car, going to the trunk to grab a water. Patton grips his door handle, preparing to get out himself, when Roman suddenly speaks. “Dad?” “Yeah, Pumpkin?” Roman rolls his eyes at the nickname, but his voice is much softer than usual, his boisterous energy seeming to have drained. It's enough for Patton to let go of the door and turn around to face him. “When I get a sibling, you're not going to forget about me,right? I mean obviously,” He flashes a lopsided grin. “I'm unforgettable! But, well…” he trails off and Patton rushes to reassure him, every ounce of paternal instinct kicking in at once. “Of course not kiddo!” He hesitates for a moment. “You want a sibling, don't you?” Roman nods. “Yeah. I just…” His voice is barely above a whisper. “Nobody cared about me for a long time. And...well I don't want to lose you or Pop.” Patton steels himself. I'm not going to cry, that'll embarrass him. Instead he reaches out and gives the boy’s hand a firm squeeze. “Roman Sanders, you are my son and I love you. Nothing is ever going to change that.” Dang it, his voice cracked. Well, hiding emotions has never been his strong point. “I know.” Roman tries to be casual, but there’s a small smile spreading across his face. Patton smiles as well, part relief and part reveling in the knowledge that he's getting good at reading Roman, despite the preteen drama that comes with it. Speaking of which, the now cheerful boy leaps out of the car in an impressively graceful sashay. “Now, let's see who shall be worthy of becoming my knight!” He bounds up the familiar steps, juuust beating Logan to the door. Patton snorts, knowing the mildly competitive nature of both his loved ones. He heads inside himself, making a game of slipping in before the door shuts. It's an automatic door, but entertaining nonetheless. He lets out a sigh as the stifling heat of Florida is replaced with cool, artificial air. St. Joan's defies most orphanage stereotypes. There's no gloomy manor halls or cruel headmistress. Roman has mentioned on multiple occasions that it had been a good place. “But I did sing Hard Knock Life whenever I could.” “Mr. Sanders!” Patton looks up to see the receptionist, their face sporting a huge grin as Roman bounces around them, talking a mile a minute. “Heya Tayln! Long time no see!” He gives them a brief hug. “So I was told you were thinking of adopting again?” Logan nods while Patton beams. “Yup!” “Well, all the kids here are great, as I'm sure you know.” They smile at Roman. “Most of them are playing outside right now, so why don't you go out, see if there's anyone you really connect with? You can talk with one of the adoption agents in about an hour.” Patton places his hand in Logan’s, not missing the way his mouth twitches into a barely-suppressed smile. “That sounds great!” Roman leads them out of the foyer and through the halls until they reach the playground. He then runs off to greet a couple old friends. “I'm going to go this way, if that's alright.” Logan gestures to a group of girls constructing something in the sandpit. “Their structure has potential.” Patton laughs, kissing his husbands cheek. “Yeah, yeah okay. Go become the world's greatest sandbox architect.” Logan rolls his eyes and heads that way. Sometimes he and Roman are so similar it's shocking that they aren't biologically related. All the children look decently happy, which puts Patton at ease. Sad children were the actual worst thing! No one that young deserves to be unhappy. His eyes seem to follow his train of thought. They settle on a stubby willow tree resting on the outskirts of the yard. More accurately, they settle on the figure of a boy hunkered down beneath it, scribbling in a spiral notebook. Without thinking, he heads over to the tree. “Hey there.” The boy startles, apparently not having heard Patton’s approach. He doesn't look up, however. “Hi.” He continues to write (draw?) in the beat-up notebook. After a moment, Patton sits down next to him. Despite the temptation, he doesn't let himself look over the kid’s shoulder. He'd probably find it invasive. “Boy, it's nice and shady over here!” The boy’s eyes dart sideways and regard him with an “are you serious” expression. “Uh, yeah? I guess so.” The sit for another awkward moment. Patton hums the tune Roman has now forced into his brain. “Any reason in particular you aren't playing?” The boy sighs, finally looking up. “I don't want to. I'd rather write. Besides,” he looks back down. “They all think I'm weird anyway.” Patton can feel his heart break a little. “I don't think you're weird.” A snort. “Yeah, well you're an adult and you feel bad for me.” He goes back to writing. “What exactly are you writing, kiddo?” He shrugs. “Poetry, mostly.” He doesn't volunteer anything else. “Oh, my husband loves poetry!” The boy seems genuinely surprised by this. Patton guesses most people around him felt the same way about poetry as they did about him. “Really?” “Yup! Hey, why don't I drag him over here? I bet he'd love to hear what you think.” The other looks suddenly very nervous. “I mean yeah, okay, if you want. But I don't want to bother him, since you're obviously here to adopt.” “Aw, it's not a bother at at all! I bet he’ll think you're a really neat kid, uh,--” he stops, realizing he has no idea what the boy’s name is. “Virgil.” He says quietly. “Some people call me Verge.” He bites his lip awkwardly. “I'm Patton.” He smiles reassuringly. “Let me go get Logan, that's my husband’s name.” He dashes off, grabbing Logan quickly. He feels almost afraid that Virgil will disappear by the time he gets back. But when they return, he's still slumped at the base of the willow, spiral notebook now closed on his lap as he fidgets with his hoodie strings. “Logan, this is Virgil! Virgil, Logan.” “Hi?” “Virgil, like the Roman poet, I presume?” Virgil shrugs. “I guess.” “Speaking of which, Patton tells me you write poetry?” He nods, cautiously. “Yeah, mostly gothic stuff, but I did a couple sonnets for fun. Oh,” he grins a little. “I also have like seven pages of limericks.” Logan smiles back. Two seconds later, they've launched into an epic discussion of well, epics. Patton follows along as best as he can, throwing in an occasional “wow!” or “gosh golly!” But mostly, he leans against the cool, hopefully insect-free bark of the willow and listens. Eventually, he sneaks out to get Roman. The two boys study each other, and for a moment he worries that Roman will get all snarky and then everything will be a mess. But then, Roman cautiously asks if Virgil likes dragons and just like that, they're off on a conversation about mythical beasts and video games. They find out that Virgil is ten, his poetry is in fact impressive, especially for his age, and that he and Logan combined can absolutely roast Patton and Roman with three to four lines of poetry. Eventually, Tayln calls for the Sanders family to return inside to talk. “Bye Verge!” Roman stands up reluctantly. “Later, Princey.” He bids goodbye to Logan as well. “Hey Patton?” He gives a small, sad smile. “Thanks for talking to me. Whichever kid you adopt will be really lucky.” Patton doesn't know what to say, so he just hugs him. Virgil tenses in surprise, but quickly relaxes. “We’re going to be really lucky to have that kid.” He brushes the hair out of Virgil’s eyes. “At least, if he wants to be a member of our family.” Virgil makes a tiny gasping sound then squeezes Patton tighter. “Yeah, I think he'd like that a lot.”
Patton stares out the window, watching the landscape roll away once again. The amount of excited energy in the car makes the air feel like static. As they pull up to St. Joan's, a small figure leaps up from the stairs, lugging a suitcase and a notebook on the verge (heheh) of falling apart. Roman rolls down the window, sticking his entire torso out of it and causing Patton and Logan to exchange concerned looks over the safety of their child. “Hey little bro!” They step out of the car and all pile into a hug around the newest member of their family. He squirms, muttering about being unable to breathe and blushing furiously. All the same, he returns the hug. “All the paperwork has been finalized, which means we're ready to go.” Logan informs them. Roman demonstrates a feat of strength by attempting to Judo flip Virgil’s suitcase into the trunk. Admirably, he succeeds, but not without several additional scratches to their newly washed car. “Come on, get in!” Roman tugs on Virgil’s sleeve, all but dragging him to the door. Patton giggles. “Well, if you were going to change your mind it's too late, Roman has already moved on to the kidnapping phase of our plan.” Virgil snickers, but meets Patton’s eyes seriously all the same. “I wouldn't. Change my mind I mean.” Patton ruffles his hair. “I know. Oh! Before I forget…” He grabs a bag from the trunk. “This is for you. A welcome home gift.” He pulls out a brand new, leather notebook. Virgil’s eyes go wide. “No way! For me.” “Yup! It's all yours!” Virgil dives in for a second hug. “Thank you,” He looks up at Patton and smiles. “Dad.”
“DAAAAAAD” Roman’s shriek comes from down the hall. “Verge stole my sword!” “You were trying to hit me with it!” Comes Virgil’s slightly less shrieky response. Logan lets out a long sigh from his position next to Patton on the couch. “And I'd almost started reading, imagine that.” There's a loud crash from down the hall, followed by scuffling. Logan groans again. “I'll go see.” “Thanks, Love!” Patton calls after him. A moment later there's another crash. “Nicola Tesla!” He gets up, mildly concerned, and heads to Roman’s room. What he finds is Roman, predictably, being held at sword point by his brother, slightly less predictably. Logan is on the floor, appearing to have tripped over some complicated booby trap rigged by Roman. All three of them look guiltily at Patton as he steps in. He takes a moment to fix his “disappointed dad” look on each one of them before his allows himself to crack a smile. Then, he swoops in and wraps his arms around Virgil. “Run, Prince Roman! I'll save you from the rogue knight!” Roman grins and dashes out. “Heyy, no fair!” Virgil complains. “Stop him!” Logan complies, grabbing at one of Roman’s ankles. In retaliation, Roman grabs the ends of Patton’s sweater, and his grip on Virgil sends them both tumbling to the ground. They all end up in a pile on a bean bag, out of breath and giggling. For a reason he can't quite explain, Patton feels emotion welling up. He looks from his husband to his two sons. It's taken a while to build this family, more twists and turns than anyone could have predicted. It was a whole lot of arguments and complications and heart ache. But it was also wonderful, and beautiful. Above all else, it was a family. And that was all Patton could ever ask for.
And there you have it. Tagging the lovely @nyifmet @phantom-opera and @funsizedgremlin ! If you’d like to be tagged in my future fics like or reblog this post over here Thanks for reading, as always, I hope it made you smile!
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arista-the-musical · 6 years
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Playing at a High Sea || Bdrpwrimo Day 14
A/N: I’d already written sonnets with Amelia so it was time to shake it up a little and give someone else some love. So what was poetry but not quite a sonnet? Songwriting. I’ve legit never written a song before so this was a trip and I hope it turned out okay.
Both of them having hard Novembers, a strange pair find a little commonality and comfort in each other’s company
Amelia sat at her desk, staring at words she'd yet to write on a blank page about how she was currently feeling. She'd written sonnets and letters about Lucky and what she'd been feeling about her disappearance. Now that she'd reappeared, the words didn't exactly come easily. Adella was right, it was hard to strike her speechless. A quip, a word, a jab, any small bit of wit or tact would go right from her cortex and through her lips.
But now? There was only a small line written across the page.
You're back.
A loud swing of her door and a voice called out, "Amelia!" 
A whirl of blonde hair, case of whichever instrument she was playing today in hand, bounded onto her crisply made bed, wrinkling the fabric beneath her.
"Arista." The captain sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose, voice obviously a warning. Now was really not the time for the blonde's sunny disposition when she was trying to figure out her own thoughts without influence from others. She sighed, truly not having enough bite to shoo the girl away. "How did you even get in?"
"I'm besties with your Aunt now." The blonde shrugged and gave a small giggle, kicking her feet behind her.
"Of course you are." She said in a deadpan manner and shut the notebook she was writing in with a thud. No one was allowed to read this book (aside from her therapist on small special occasions of breakthrough) so it was kept away from prying eyes at all times.
"I'm only kidding. I know your Aunt through Daddy." The younger girl rested her chin on her hand as she laid across the woman's bed. "She's known me for forever. She was totally thrilled that you had more friends." Of course, the ever nosy and excitable mermaid noticed the notebook. "Whatcha working on?"
"Nothing that concerns you." The captain narrowed her eyes and slung an arm across the back of her chair, facing the girl straight on.
"Really because that kind of looks like a diary to me, which totally concerns me. Also Lucky is back which also concerns me. I'm very concerned, Ames." She rolled upside down on the woman's bed and Amelia truly wondered why now of all times Arista would find her way into her bedroom. She'd never been in here before. Adella had barely been in here before and Arista had never really entered into her house much in all the months--
It was November.
There was her answer. Adella had told Amelia about all of her sisters' strange behaviors during the month. All of them veering to extremes. 
Arista happened to be an escapist during the eleventh month. She'd hop couches and stay out all day to avoid the house and all the emotions inside it. She couldn't save all of them so she couldn't bare to be there (at least that’s what Adella believed to be true, Amelia wasn’t quite as sure)
It seemed that Amelia was her bed of choice today. Realizing this, she deflated slightly, knowing the girl only meant well. (Also ignoring the way she turned concerned into another form of the word completely changing the meaning of the sentence and conversation to what suited her thought process best. You just sort of had to go with the things the girl said sometimes).
"No need to be. All is ship shape. Well, except for my bed now that you've virtually unmade it." She attempted a small quip, it was lighthearted and teasing which made Arista look down at the bed she was currently on. Pillows had been kicked off, comforter was scrunched to one side.
"Whoops." Arista gave her a small little apologetic smile before looking around her room. "I dunno if I'd call it ship shape. You know, there's hardly anything in your room to clean in the first place. Ships normally have like ropes and plaques and like barrels and stuff, right?" 
Amelia didn't keep to much clutter in her life. She didn't have use for something she threw it out. That's how it was. 
"This ship in a bottle is cool though." Arista scampered off the bed and to the dresser. Okay maybe not how it was for everything as Arista picked up and looked at the gift Lucky had gotten her for her birthday last year. The tag still hanging off the neck of it (Arista was most certainly reading it at this very moment) which read For when you're missing the sea. Now it was really for when she was missing part of herself. 
"Oh…" Arista looked over at Amelia, a bit of understanding in her eyes before looking back at the bottle. "This was Lucky's birthday present to you right? Adella made a huge deal of it and like gushed for days right after she'd gushed over Herc. Strange how things happen huh…" Amelia was glad that Arista decided to look with her eyes rather than her hands this time. She had a dreadful habit of that that would just drive the captain completely mad.
The older blonde didn't say anything, just got up from her desk and stood up straight to walk over to where Arista was. "Arista, dear, not to be unappreciative of your company, but is there a reason why you're here?" Realization seemed to register on the younger girl’s face as to why she'd shown up with her case at the captain's house.
"Oh! Right! Well, you see I'm in the middle of writing a song and you're good with words and Adella is too but Adella is kind of out of commission during November and like exhausted all the time and I don't want to bother her so I was wondering if you'd help me write this song." She smiled hopefully at the taller woman who just quirked a brow at the young musician.
"You want me to help you write a song?" This had to be the strangest thing anyone's ever asked her. She was in disbelief. She’d learned piano, of course, but to the outside world Amelia was not the most musically inclined. Or artistically even.
"You're like a walking thesarus and I need another perspective. Please?" She pleaded softly, pout coming into play which was incredibly annoying and underhanded of her in Amelia's opinion. Maybe it was the pout, maybe it was the fact that it was November and it spelled out sadness for everyone, but Amelia was too tired to really try to figure it out so she relented. 
However, some modicum of a thought, some inkling told her that Arista was still not telling her the complete truth, which was hard to fathom because Arista never really held back too much in what she thought.
The blonde seemed to notice and her demeanor sort of deflated a bit, taking her silence for a no still. Her eyes got sort of cloudy, not at all bright like they normally were. She looked exhausted, as if all the life had at that very moment been drained from her and Amelia actually got a look at this girl who was so familiar and yet so different in just the change of a month.
"Why did you really come to me Arista?" She narrowed her eyes slightly though her tone was softer, quieter. 
The normally bubbly blonde sighed. "You know how I'm the happy one? Like I can't be sad, especially not now." She flopped back on Amelia's bed, further messing it up. "Not in the house. Not in front of Van. But in front of you? You don't… pity people. You don't try to fix it. You'll just kind of… let it be. And for me to write this out and figure things out for me I need a safe space to be sad."
"Why isn't it safe elsewhere to be sad?" The captain got up from her desk and took the couple steps it required for her to cross over to her bed to look down at the now horizontal girl. It was pure curiosity and, well, duty towards one of her good friends to take care of her twin. She crouched down to come a bit more to her level.
"Because too much sadness is dangerous. Too much sadness makes people get hurt, I lose people to sadness. I can't add that to our house or Adella. I have to take away the sadness during this month or everything falls apart." Amelia opened her mouth about why it wasn't safe to be around Vanellope because she’d mentioned that too but the blonde beat her to it, "Van would worry too much and try to cheer me up and she would probably do a really good job of it 'cause she's Van, yanno?” She gave the smallest of smiles, one she couldn’t help when she talked about her girlfriend. “I just… need to feel everything. Like… you know how sponges soak stuff up until they can't anymore? And you have to wring them out so they can suck up more again?  That's what I need. I just need it all out. A safe place to do that."
Silence lingered between the two women.
"Very well." Amelia cleared her throat as she broke the silence, "How does this process work?" She had no idea what would come of all of this. She was out of her element and in Arista’s, though she didn’t seem to be in it either.
What Amelia didn't know was that Arista had also come to help her as well. Knowing she had unresolved feelings, perhaps writing a song along with her would take her mind off of things or maybe even reveal a few more things that the captain didn't even know herself.
November feels cold Worse than before Senses failing Losing the war
You've returned No favor to me No rhyme or reason I won't be set free
November clouds Feelings shroud Month of despair Breathing no air Just let me be
Changing of the leaves Feelings steadfast Pain I can't bereave Lights blind right through All things lead back to you Peace I can't achieve
November clouds Feelings shroud Month of despair Breathing no air They won't let me be
Rise over the storm Wake up every morn I'll take my leave Walk down those roads Where we stop no one knows I'll come back, just believe
I'm not on my own Treading pathways to home I'll take the lead
November clouds Feelings shroud Month of despair Breathing no air I'll be fine, you'll see
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