#but for some reason it didn’t pan out. i dunno. here it is anyway

[flipping-the-coin]

[Inquisitorial Report: Subject - Head Archivist Orion Pax]

[Authorization Level: Prime]

[Listed Authorizations: Optimus Prime]

[Assigned Inquisitor: Jazz]

[Three deca-cycles into assignment]

═════════════════

Listen, OP.  We need to talk.  Is there any particular reason why I wasn’t briefed that there's a whole other inquisitor here? She does her job pretty well for the most part, didn’t notice her at all till she climbed out of the slaggin’ wall and started cleaning up the hab!!! I don’t know what’s going on in the new training methods that Smokescreen is running, but I am pretty fragging sure that the person you’re spying on is NOT supposed to know you exist. Megatron definitely knows she’s here. Seems like he’s fond of her. I saw him leaving out a slagging snack for her before he escorted Orion to the Archives! What the actual frag, my mech? WHY WASN’T I TOLD SHE WAS HERE?! Now that that’s out of the way: onto Orion. I can’t get my servos on his medical records, they’re sealed up tighter than a stripped screw on your oil pan, but he takes some medications every cycle, one is some kind of sedative, that he takes before recharge (probably to help with nightmares, if I am guessing correctly. He’s had two since I’ve been watching so far, and they seemed pretty severe), and the others are mainly used for field suppression and anxiety. His field is… I dunno how to describe it…. It’s messed up, OP. Something happened to him cuz his field is different than I remember. When he’s out in public, it’s like he doesn’t even have one. He was always a bit reserved in expressing himself, but now it’s like he doesn’t have a field at all. But when it’s just him and Megatron in their hab, sometimes Megatron encourages him to let his field out and… Primus, OP it’s like slamming into a wall at mach 2 how thick his field is. I’ve only felt it a couple of times, It’s overwhelming, so I tend to stay back from the vents as much as I can when he’s emitting, and rely on my cams and audio. I hope you don’t mind. 

It doesn’t seem to bother Megatron at all, though. In fact, he seems to enjoy it. But he was always a little weird, so I’m not really shocked he’d find comfort in something that feels so… smothering? (That’s probably not the right glyph, but I’m going with it.) He dotes on Orion Pax even more than he did before the war, and I gotta admit that it's a little humorous to see Lord Megatron dutifully preparing fuel every morning like some kinda housewife on those old Earth sitcoms.

Anyway, Orion is well cared for. Megatron attends to him dutifully, and Orion happily returns that favor to his Conjunx. As strangely as they present on the outside, their relationship dynamic seems quite healthy, if not a bit codependent. They touch each other a lot more now than they did before the war. I haven’t seen them go through any form of serious disagreement, and the minor one they did have was discussed and rectified (Megatron was frustrated with Orion for not putting the lid back on the rust sticks.)

Orion is odd, and his habits reflect that. I’ve watched him pick up more rocks than I can count on his treks to and from the Archives, and chemical analysis shows they are just… rocks. Sometimes they are in strange shapes, but usually just… rocks. He is very fond of crystals, though as far as I know, he only has two he cares for personally; a small potted one he keeps in his hab, and another, more rare aquamarine cluster that he keeps in his office at the Archives. I’ve heard him singing to that one, a couple of times now. Seems it's very important to him. 

He rarely brings his work home. Seems he tries to keep work and home life separate as much as he can, though he does discuss things from work with Megatron at length some cycles, especially if he has to deal with the Council in any fashion. If I can be blunt… Orion Pax is not fond of most of the Council, and when I say ‘not fond’ I really mean ‘he fragging hates them.’ Seems there's been issues with Council Members intentionally goading him into emotional responses.

On a typical work Cycle, Megatron comes online before Orion, and busies himself preparing their fuels. Orion usually comes online just before the fuels are ready, and Megatron sometimes brings it to him in berth. Sometimes Orion wanders out to the table and they refuel together there. Megatron helps him prepare for work. Once at work, Orion tends to finish his official duties relatively quickly. He spends at least two joor a cycle assisting and mentoring his apprentice, Red Alert. The two seem to get along well enough, but there’s some strain there I haven’t quite worked out yet. They both are anxious things around each other, but their working relationship seems warm and friendly. He spends his fuel break on comms with his Conjunx.  Afterwards, he spends most of his time, ah… poking around in data he’s probably not authorized to be poking around in. Mostly military records from the war and things in the Decepticon Archives. Before the end of his shift, he spends a joor or so helping the archivists tidy up and organize everything before he goes home. 

If Megatron doesn’t pick him up from work and escort him home, he meets him at the door. Regardless, they spend a great amount of time being lovey-dovey with each other once the door closes, talking about how much they missed each other, which can last for quite some time if they kiss their way to berth… or the sofa… or a wall. Once they finish with that, they tend to relax together, usually wrapped up in each other in some fashion until one of them, usually Megatron, goes to prepare fuel.  

After they fuel, they either retire to berth or settle to watch something on the holoscreen. Unexpectedly, Orion seems to prefer watching horror, suspense and thrillers. I expected him to be a ‘romcom’ sort of mech. Go figure. 

Their berth-time habits are a bit much, honestly. Megatron almost always has some new poem to recite for Orion. Most of the time they’re about how much he loves Orion, how beautiful he finds him to be or ah… what he wants to do to him, if you catch my drift.  Sometimes they fool around for a while after that, but once they settle in berth, they’re always as close to each other as possible. Sometimes, Orion will read aloud while they are snuggled up together. He reads a very slowly, but that seems to help Megatron fall into recharge. Sometimes Megatron reads to Orion, though, there’s really no way to tell how it will end up. 

On the cycles he’s off duty, both he and Megatron recharge later than normal. Orion seems to enjoy doting on Megatron on his off cycles, especially in the earlier joors. He’ll prepare fuel for the two of them to share in berth. Their behavior during this period of the cycle can only be described as playfully silly. After fueling, they flirt with each other in the strangest way I’ve ever seen. It starts with playful nudges and jabs and ends with them grabbing and tickling at each other until Orion inevitably ends up subdued, either beneath Megatron’s weight or by being trapped in an embrace. There’s plenty of laughter from both parties during the whole exchange. 

After that, once they’ve cool off from their game, Orion leads Megatron to the washrack where they thoroughly groom each other. I honestly am not joking when I say those two can’t keep their servos off each other. They will find any excuse to touch each other. Anyway, after grooming they tend to break apart for a while. 

Orion works on his pet project of translating what little Kaoni literature survived the war for a few joor, sometimes asking Megatron for assistance in his glyph usage. He takes his work very seriously, though I highly doubt the Council will allow his translations to be integrated into the Archives as he wants. Megatron usually interrupts him at some point, with pleas for attention or reminders not to work too hard, usually with a snack in servo. 

Evenings depend on whether Orion has a social call or not. I didn’t actually realize he had any friends, considering his reputation, but it seems First Aid and his gardener, ‘Melody’ (who I am 99.9% sure is the SPY I WASN’T BRIEFED ABOUT on HER off cycles) are fond of him, and come over for energon and goodies on some of Orion’s off cycles. Sometimes they gossip and sometimes they discuss literature. Orion Pax has no clue that his gardener lives inside his walls… 

When he doesn’t have guests, he spends his evenings engaging in his various hobbies. He’s very fond of the crystals in his garden and will sometimes help the gardener tend to them. (all things considered, it seems this gardener is his closest friend. I wonder if she feels as weird about spying on him as I do?) He also really enjoys calligraphy and often transcribes Megatron’s poetry in the most exquisite of glyphs. He was good at calligraphy before the war too, you know? Though he didn’t practice it as much back then. I’m glad to see he’s still getting joy from it. The crystal thing is new, though, I never saw him do anything like that before the war. When it’s time to refuel, they have a brief conversation that essentially boils down to whether or not they can bear to part from each other’s company, which decides if they order fuel for delivery or not. 

It also seems like both he and Megatron enjoy the human inspired ‘jigsaw puzzle’ as well. Some evenings they work on one together while watching something on the holocreen or chatting. They have quite the collection, and always new ones seem to pop up. I think Megatron orders them as a surprise because Orion is always excited to see it. They only work on these together. (They work on these during the work cycle evenings as well, sorry OP I forgot to mention that. It’s just so common to see that it slipped right through my processor until I was specifically thinking about Orion’s hobbies.) 

As for his general interests, I’d say his number one interest is his Conjunx, if I’m to be honest. Megatron is the single most important thing to Orion Pax. I haven’t even been here that long, and I can see that plainly. If something can be done with Megatron, he will do it with Megatron. He chooses Megatron over all of his other interests and hobbies EVERY TIME. He has joked with Megatron several times that it is to ‘make up for lost time.’ He knows more about Megatron than probably anyone else in the entire universe including Megatron himself. In fact, Megatron often has to encourage or remind Orion to pursue his other interests. 

Other than that, he has a pretty wide range of things he’s interested in. He’s deeply invested in Kaon: the language and culture, as well as preserving what’s left of it. He has twice now brought up the topic of wishing to live in Kaon like they had originally planned to, before the war. Also, he enjoys crystals and their tending, calligraphy, poetry, holofilms, jigsaw puzzles, and politics (he has OPINIONS, let me TELL YOU). He spends a good deal of time reading about a variety of topics, such as history, mythology, poetry, romance, etymology, cyber-geology, crystals and their assorted sciences, mineralogy, medicine, politics, pro-Decepticon and Neutral works, graffiti and street art, erotica, memoirs, mystery, cyber-biology, and self-help. 

He has some less prevalent, superficial interests as well. I’ve either heard him mention an interest in these topics or heard him give some factoid that only someone with some level of interest would know. I admit, some of these come from my pre-war history with him, (considering the ah…. Extremely wide scope you’ve given me, I think it’s relevant): theology, earth plants, drawing, hymns??? I dunno how else to describe it… Ancient songs, gladiator subculture, sparklings and their care, semiology, symbology, linguistics, justice, psychology, ethics, fuel preparation recipes, turbofoxes, warframe maintenance and first aid, archival sciences, relics, decryption, urban exploration, and dance. 

That’s about all I got for ya OP. I wasn’t lying when i said he’s a pretty boring mech. He has a few quirks about his romantic life, but other than that, he’s kinda a nerd. Just like he was before the war. He’s just… more clingy and has medical problems now. As with the last one, I’ve enclosed a journal entry. Same as last time, I have no idea when he wrote this. Honestly, I just picked one at random. 

═════════════════

I had an appointment with Ratchet this cycle that once again did not go very well. I truly am trying my hardest to understand what he wants from me. It seems no matter how I answer his questions, he is displeased by my words. I fear for him. His hatred of Megatronus and his disgust with me seem to be mixing with his grief for Optimus Prime, driving him mad. 

Megatronus has repeatedly pleaded on my behalf for another doctor to take my case, but Ratchet insists that I am too volatile and dangerous to be seen by anyone else, which… honestly, may be true. I cannot always control myself, especially when I feel backed into a corner or feel Megatronus is being threatened. When I fear for his safety… I cannot control what I do anymore. I am so terrified of losing him that I can’t control myself. 

Before the war, it was the opposite. Megatronus protected me from dangers, and I had little reason to believe I had the power to protect him from much of anything. He was so righteous and strong… almost like a deity in my optics. Though I never worshiped my champion in a traditional manner, I nonetheless found myself deeply devoted to him and his cause. 

His touch has always been different from the touch of any other to me, even before I realized that I wished to belong to him. The first time he touched me was merely a servo upon my shoulder as he greeted me and welcomed me to Kaon. I cannot even recall what he spoke to me considering the nearly explosive reaction my spark had to that simple touch. 

Of course, I had no frame of reference for what affection or love felt like, so all I really understood was that I liked it when he touched me. His touches were always patient and gentle, a stark opposite to whenever Alpha Trion would touch me, with little concern for my comfort and completely lacking in any sort of tenderness. I was accustomed to my comfort being disregarded by those around me, but Megatronus cared. 

I think he must have sensed it, somehow; how repressed and unhappy I was. I had buried so much of myself in my attempts to please my Sire that I barely had any personality when we initially met. Yet he enjoyed my company regardless and urged me to pursue what I wanted, instead of what was expected of me. I had no way of knowing, in the beginning, that I would ultimately realize that he was what my spark wished for above all else. 

There are so many moments I should have realized it… I can still recall how eagerly my spark pulsed with excitement and trust the first time he settled between my thighs… the way his field wrapped around me like a promise as he teased me to ecstasy with digits and glossa… I was so deeply in love with him, yet so oblivious of my own emotions. How foolish I was to not see it for what it was. 

I am no fool, however. I know exactly who my lover was and is. I knew that he made a living via extinguishing sparks. I knew that he was known for his brutality in the arena. I witnessed more than enough of his gladiatorial matches to know the violence he was capable of. If I am honest… I think part of his allure is that violence, that he never has turned upon myself. To be loved so dearly by one who is known for their violence, to draw out the gentle in one that most see as a monster… to be touched so lovingly by servos still stained with the energon of his foes… I cannot even begin to describe how that feels. 

I knew he would start a war the moment I came online strapped to that table in the tunnels. I could feel him trying to cover up his panic to soothe me as he tried to rescue me from my inevitable fate, and I know that he continues to view it as his greatest failure that he did not reach me in time. My champion started his war far sooner and with far more brutality than he wished to because THEY TOOK ME FROM HIM. He still dreams of that cycle I was taken… and how he felt my agony and terror.  

Some cycles I ponder what would have happened if he had reached me in time. Would the war have continued if I had been allowed to stand at his side the way I wanted to? I do not know, but I do know that he never would have lost himself to madness. I know that Cybertron never would have been rendered uninhabitable. I know that our war would not have reached the stars had I been at my lover’s side. 

We had promised each other eternity and were ripped apart after only a vorn. He grieved for me, and I felt every bit of his anguish. I was there when he spiraled into brutality. I was powerless as I felt his spark grow colder and colder as his rage took hold of him. Our separation was painful for Megatronus. Both physically and mentally. To have our bond severed so forcefully wounded his very spark. So very few seem to understand that ache as we do. 

I begged to be allowed to comfort him.  I understand that many believe comfort is the last thing Megatronus deserves, but it would have stopped his rampages. If only he knew I still lived. He would have at least had hope. Instead, he saw a new Prime, wearing his deceased Conjunx’s frame and speaking in his voice like an unholy abomination. Optimus Prime spoke lies about willingly accepting the Matrix, of duty, and freedom, spoke as if he were me, when my love could see and feel so clearly that he was NOT. How could they not expect Megatronus’ wrath?

I know that many hold contempt for me for continuing to stand at his side, but how can they expect anything else? He was the ONLY ONE who saw through Optimus’ lies. He was the only one who fought to FREE me, though he was under the impression I was gone. He still wished for my frame to be laid to rest properly, not to be desecrated by the Council’s puppet Prime. He fought for me… How can they not understand that? He was the only one… 

He and I have tasted each other's sparks in the most intimate and forbidden of ways. We have been a united being in both spark and frame. Megatronus did nothing during the war that I did not predict and try to stop. I could feel him spiraling deeper into madness the longer the war dragged on, and along with that, his moral standards fell away. I am not proud of the things my lover has done. There are many things I wish I could have stopped. There are memories of him that are terrifying, disgusting even, especially after he began his dark energon consumption. He forgot who he was, just as I had forgotten who I was before I knew him. There were so many times I thought I had lost him for good…

But then Unicron awoke, and I got the chance to live again. I saw that my Champion was still there, merely buried under millennia of grief and war. And he still loved me as deeply as I loved him. He feared that I would not love what he had become… but to me, he will always be my Champion, for I understand him as none other does, and he likewise is the only one who truly knows me. I know his spark as clearly as I know my own, and I cannot condemn him for his actions while spark-broken. He fought for me just as hard as I fought to get back to him, if not more so. His actions were simply much more visible, and affected far more than necessary. 

I am told I am selfish for not allowing the citizens of Cybertron the execution they feel they deserve, but has not Megatronus already perished at the servos of my own sparkling for his crimes? Was he not tormented by the Unmaker before an act of divine intervention brought his spark back to life? Is he not still bearing the weight of his crimes by being restricted more than any other citizen of Cybertron? Megatronus has already been and is currently being punished for his crimes. He wears the frame to prove it. 

I don’t care what they say about him, I know his spark. I know he speaks true when he says he wants nothing more than peace and freedom for all Cybertronians. I am proud to be his Conjunx, not ashamed, as so many insist that I should be. He is one choice I will never feel shame for and one I will never regret choosing. I promised him eternity, and I meant that. 

[Report Received: Visibility Status - Seen]

#two sides to a coin au #transformers prime au #two sides supplemental writing #maccadam #two sides supplemental inquisitorial report #transformers prime #megaop #orion pax #two sides supplemental Jazz #megop #orion x megatronus #tfp orion pax #megatron

[emowithafather]

[Betraying Blood/Placeholder Name]

CHAPTER FIVE

TW: CANNIBALLISM, VIOLENCE

Gourmand sang as he threw an arm into a blender, seeming quite calm, as if this was his regular day-to-day life.

Chris groaned, opening his eyes to find he was stuck to a wall, covered in sticky dough.

“Dude what.” he said blankly, staring at Gourmand.

Gourmand turned around with a terrifying grin. “You’re awake!”

Chris nodded slowly. “Yeah…? Was I supposed to have stayed sleeping?”

Gourmand shook his head. “No, not really. Anywho, what were you doing alone in that creepy old cottage?”

“I was kidnapped,” he mumbled. “What were you doing in there? I mean, you must have been there if you found me.”

Gourmand shrugged. “I was looking for ingredients.”

“The only edible things in there were corpses.” Chris scoffed. “Unless I’m an ‘ingredient?’”

“Not yet, you aren’t.” Gourmand chuckled. “But if I run out, I do have you on standby.”

Chris sighed. “Okay, well, what’re you gonna do with me in the meantime?”

“Not sure yet.” he responded, pouring what was in the blender into a pan.

Chris stared silently at Gourmand and everything he did, breathing heavily.

“What do you want?” Gourmand huffed as he turned back around.

“Hungry.” Chris answered.

“Well, you can’t-”

“Hungry.”

Gourmand stared at Chris for a moment before sighing. “Fine, have something I made earlier.” he groaned as he tossed Chris something small, something that looked somewhat like a crepe, but was clearly meaty.

Chris ate it with no hesitation, though right after he did so, he froze up.

Gourmand stared. “What?”

“It’s really good.” Chris muttered. “I didn’t know you could actually cook.”

Gourmand chuckled, clearly not offended. “Legally, I can’t, but thank you.”

Chris tilted his head in confusion and concern. “Legally? What do you mean, legally?”

“My chef license was revoked. You, uh, know this. Don’t you?”

Chris shrugged. “Probably, I dunno. I don’t remember much from when I was a Wild Kratt for some reason”.

“You’re not a WIld Kratt anymore?” Gourmand asked, confused.

“I don’t think so. I don’t really remember anything.” Chris mumbled.

Gourmand shook his head and sighed. “Do you remember who I am?”

“Gourmand.” Chris answered.

“Yes, but who am I to you?” Gourmand asked.

“I have no idea. Some chef?” Chris muttered.

Gourmand stared at Chris blankly before sighing and continuing to cook.

Chris yawned and laid his head against the wall. “Can I go to sleep?”

“Sure, I don’t mind-” Gourmand started, only to find Chris already asleep.

Gourmand sighed heavily and proceeded to cook.

Meanwhile, Aviva worked tirelessly to locate Chris, Martin, anybody. For some reason, she couldn’t even get the location of the kids. Must suck to be unable to find anybody you care for, except for the few who don’t seem to care about you.

“Aviva?” Koki mumbled, peeking her head out of a doorway. “Why aren’t you asleep? It’s practically midnight.”

“It’s only ten o clock. Not late enough for Jimmy to sleep, so it isn’t enough for me.”

Koki tilted her head in confusion. “What do you mean, not late enough for Jimmy to-”

Jimmy was still somehow screaming, though it was muffled and weak, his face shoved into a pillow.

“I don’t think he should’ve been able to keep screaming this long.” Koki muttered, concerned.

“You’re right, he shouldn't have. But somehow, he is. Anyways, that’s not relevant to this.” Aviva grumbled, still trying to get a signal.

Suddenly, a notification popped up. One of the Kratt Kids was calling!

Aviva hurriedly opened the video to see Gavin and Aiden. 

“Aviva?” Gavin mumbled, clearly quite tired. “Where’s Martin?”

“And Chris?” Aiden chirped.

“Oh, they’re, uh- Not here right now. What happened? Why can’t I get anyone’s signals?”

Gavin and Aiden glanced at each other. “Who knows? I mean, our wifi’s been pretty sucky recently, but we thought it was just like, the connection, not a worldwide glitch.” Gavin muttered.

Aiden nodded in agreement, staring blankly at the screen.

Aviva sighed. “Okay, well, tell me if you see anything out of the ordinary, or either of the Kratt brothers.”

Gavin nodded and hung up as Aviva stared at the screen, exhausted.

Aviva stumbled to a chair and collapsed. “I think I’ll just take a quick nap.” she mumbled before falling into a deep slumber.

Remember Jimmy screaming?

Yeah, Martin did too.

Martin watched out the window as Zach flew to the place they had last heard the screams.

“Do we have to do this?” Zach mumbled. “I mean, we don’t need him, and we didn’t have to fly. He wasn’t-”

“Do believe, me Zachary, you have my respect, but I’d appreciate it if you stopped questioning my decisions.”

“Right.” Zach mumbled, landing less than a mile away from the Tortuga. “Um, but what if the Wild Ratts- Kratts- find us?”

“Then we’ll get rid of them. And they need to change that, I don’t want my last name to be associated with them.”

“Get rid of them?” Zach questioned.

“Yes. It’s not that hard. You’ve tried to kill us before, right? Why should this be any different?”

Zach stared at Martin for a moment. “Yeah, but that’s in the past, and-”

“Don’t think I forgot about all those times you tried to kill me and my brother, Zachary. I don’t forget things like this.”

“Oh.” Zach muttered. “Sorry.”

“You’re forgiven, for now. Anywho, let’s…investigate the screaming.”

Zach nodded and followed Martin out of the plane, coming to the realization that he and Martin were both wearing dark cloaks, though only Martin had his hood over his head.

“What is he doing?” he asked himself before continuing to follow Martin through the forest.

Koki sat silently at the computer, Aviva was sleeping, and Jimmy was screaming quietly.

“What am I going to do with you two?” she sighed, unaware of a cloaked figure jumping through the window.

“I never liked her. Or any of them, to be honest.” Martin growled, helping Zach through the window.

“I honestly do not believe that. You seemed pretty fond of Jimmy-” Zach began before Martin pulled his hood over his face.

“Shut up and put your hood on. We don’t want them knowing who we are yet. And don’t talk unless I tell you to.” Martin hissed, pulling out a bowie knife from one of his pockets.

Martin jumped down from the ledge, landing silently and getting back up swiftly.

Zach climbed down with Martin’s help, knowing he’d faceplant if he attempted to jump.

Koki was still unaware of the two, as the lights were turned off and she could barely see.

Martin slowly walked behind Koki, raising his knife. Zach gasped quietly, though not quiet enough for Koki to not hear.

“Who-” Koki started before Martin drove the knife through her back. Koki gasped in pain before going completely unconscious.

Zach stepped back, bumping into a wall. “Martin, you didn’t tell me about this. We weren’t- You weren’t- This wasn’t supposed to happen.” he whispered, panicking.

Martin rolled his eyes and dragged Koki over to Zach. “Don’t let anybody take her.”

He then turned to Jimmy. “Covered in blankets and pillows.” Martin said. “Perfect.”

He started to strike as a gunshot resonated through the room.

Martin turned to see Aviva, now awake and armed.

With a gun.

A real one.

Martin readied his knife, charging at Aviva as she began shooting at him.

“What. Is. WRONG WITH YOU?” she screamed, grabbing Martin’s arm and he came close. She threw him to the ground and put the gun to his head. Zach started to move forward, but Aviva only began to pull the trigger.

“Don’t move, Zach.” Martin growled. “She won’t just shoot me.”

Aviva simply agreed with Martin, just barely letting go of the trigger.

Zach said nothing, terrified of what would happen next, until remembering Koki.

He picked her up, though struggled to keep her in his arms, and ran out of the Tortuga.

“Koki!” Aviva gasped. She turned back to Martin. Should she stay with him or go to retrieve Koki?

She began to tear up, clearly upset by the situation. “Why are you doing this?” she sobbed. “What did we do to you that made you leave?”

Martin chuckled. “Dunno. Maybe I was just bored.”

“There has to be something going on. Is Zach bribing you? Is he threatening you or Chris? Is he-”

She stared at Martin’s necklace. A black necklace with small white spots scattered throughout the metal, and a few red jewels embedded within. Red.

“Or does he have you under some sort of spell? Maybe hypnosis?” she mumbled, mesmerized by the beauty of the necklace.

“Close.” Martin hissed, suddenly jabbing his knife into Aviva’s leg.

Aviva shrieked, falling back. Martin got to his feet and began to run out of the Tortuga.

“Don’t worry, Avocado, we’ll be back.” Martin said with a sinister smirk as he left.

Chap 5, Pt 1/?

#betraying blood au #chris kratt #martin kratt #wild kratts #zach varmitech #aviva corcovado #jimmy z #wk koki #koki wk #gaston gourmand

[y2kuromi]

✶ : ❛ 𝗦𝗪𝗘𝗘𝗧 𝗟𝗢𝗧𝗨𝗦 : seishiro nagi x reader ૮꒰˶ᵔ ᗜ ᵔ˶꒱ა

˖ ִֶָ𐀔 — contents ⋮ birthday fic for moi <3 fluff, fluff, fluff, fem! reader, established relationship, nagi is literally whipped. reo being a d1 hater. pet names . second person (you/your/yours) and third person pov. w/c : 2.4k

if you told nagi he'd be sitting cross-legged in his kitchen picking thorns off pink roses and counting them under his breath while his best friend reo talked him through this (or at least attempted to), he would've laughed in your face. even more so if you'd told him his cheeks were flushed a shade darker than the soft petals he clutched and his heart hammered loudly in his chest. but here he was doing just that hours to your birthday

"what do you think?" nagi asked reo, bringing the bouquet into view. he was quite proud of the floral arrangement of roses, chrysanthemum, lotus and hydrangea flowers. "’s it too much?"

"it's pretty lame, why don't you just cover (y/n)'s apartment in rose petals instead" reo suggested, he was only kidding

"you just want to see me suffer" nagi grumbled. when he'd facetimed him for moral support, he hadn't expected him to crack jokes at his expense, "cleaning that up would be such a hassle"

"i'm surprised you made the bouquet yourself," reo said thoughtfully, "wouldn't ordering one be more your speed?"

"nahh" the grey-eyed boy shook his head, "(y/n) likes these specific flowers for some reason, florist didn't have any arrangements like this"

"so you just bought four bouquets....? you do know custom orders exist right?" there's a small smirk on reo's lips as he teased. nagi shot him a withering glare as he firmly tied the stems together with twine

"wouldn't be as special that way" nagi muttered. he was blushing again, despite being in the comfort of his own home, he could feel the blush still warming his neck and ears

"you really love her, huh?" reo questioned gently his eyes softening when he saw nagi shyly smile at him

"yeah..." nagi breathed out quietly, smiling softly down at the flower arrangement, "should i bake a cake?"

"what??"

"'ve got this heart-shaped pan, and i bought cake mix and some other stuff after training today. i think i could pull it off”

“are you sure about that?” reo queried, “i’m not gonna help you”

“that’s fine, not like you can bake anyways,” nagi scoffed, setting the flowers down on the counter. “it shouldn’t be that hard right?”

“depends on the flavour” reo affirmed

“what should i do for icing, buttercream?” nagi asked, picking up a bag of sugar and a tub of butter. “’s the easiest”

“buttercream then”

“i wasn’t really asking you, but sure”

“dumbass”

“(y/n)’s dumbass” he grinned, his voice softening at the mention of your name “god i hope she likes this. i feel like i could’ve done more”

“you made her a bouquet, you made her a gift basket and now you’re baking her a cake. you didn’t even get me anything for my birthday” reo said pointedly

“you’re not my girlfriend reo, and you can buy stuff for yourself”

“you’re a terrible friend”

“i’m a good boyfriend though” nagi said softly, “the best in the world”

reo couldn’t argue with that. nagi only put effort in the things he deemed important. you stood at the top of that list, above soccer, gaming and sleeping. he wanted nothing more than to make you happy.

to his credit, he tried his best. he went grocery shopping whenever you asked him to pick up groceries. he made sure you ate enough, and he always made time for you. even if he wanted to spend his entire day playing video games, he still made sure he was by your side.

he would do anything for you. hell, if you asked him to do a handstand and sing baby shark backwards, as stupid as it sounded, he would do it just to see your heartbreakingly beautiful smile

“‘m gonna make (y/n) breakfast in bed” he murmured, he could already see the smile stretching across your face “french toast or pancakes, dunno yet”

“you? cook?” reo laughed, “you’re gonna poison her”

“shut up” nagi scowled, his nose scrunching up in mock annoyance, “i know how to cook, ‘s just a hassle but if it’s for (y/n) i don’t mind” he said as he mixed the dry ingredients until the salt, sugar and cake mix were evenly combined. he cracked two large eggs into the bowl and poured in milk, oil and vanilla extract. the cake mix reminded him oddly of you. sweet and sugary

“you’re whipped” reo said. “you’re too far gone,look at your face all mushy like that you’re making me sick”

“‘s called being in love, not that you can relate” nagi retorted. he gently scooped the batter in the baking pan with a spatula while reo stared at him agape. “‘s obvious” he shrugged, slipping the pan into the pre-heated oven.he ran a hand through his hair as he leaned against the counter with a content look on his face

nagi was still learning what love really was. to him, it looked a lot like you.

loving you felt like breathing, like waking up in the morning after a good night’s sleep. he loved your smiles, your laugh, the sparkle you got in your eyes when you were around him. he loved everything about you. he’d probably never love anyone the way he loved you. and he was okay with that, he wouldn’t trade you for the world

“simp” reo said “ i’m surprised she puts up with your lazy ass”

“you call this moral support?” nagi muttered, “should’ve called someone else”

“who else would sit on facetime with you while you did all this?” reo asked, “i’ll wait”

nagi was deep in thought for a moment but he remained silent. he knew you would, but that would inherently ruin the surprise

"so, nobody, huh? thought as much," reo remarked, rolling his eyes, a smile tugged at the corners of his lips. it was a breath of fresh air to not be the one pushing nagi to do something for once

*ding* nagi’s eyes lit up as the timer chimed. the kitchen was filled with the scent of freshly baked vanilla cake. he slipped on an oven mitt before he took the pan out of the oven and placed it on the island. his cheeks were flushed as he glanced over his shoulder to shoot him a triumphant look

“cake’s done” he was slightly giddy with anticipation, once he was done icing it he could finally drive to your apartment and see you. he knew you were already sleeping, he’d called you an hour ago and your voice had been laced with the precipice of sleep. he didn’t really care, he selfishly wanted to be the first to wish you a happy birthday. even if it meant waking you up at midnight

true to his word nagi slipped into your apartment as soon as the clock struck midnight. to his credit he was as quiet as possible. setting your presents down on the counter before sneaking into your room

the bed dips and suddenly there’s a warm body behind you. nagi wraps an arm around your waist, pressing himself closer to you. you let out a small noise as he pulls you in for a long kiss, his hand reaching up to stroke your cheek.

“sei…” you yawn, squinting at him with your sleepy (e/c) eyes. you’re unbelievably pretty he thinks. even with furrowed eyebrows and a worn-out look on your face. your lashes fan across your face and he can feel his heart melting

“happy birthday baby” he murmurs, placing the sweetest of kisses on your forehead.

“thank you” you hummed, resting your head on his chest, enjoying the warmth radiating from the blankets. “thought you weren’t coming till later…”

“couldn’t stay away” he admitted with a sigh, wrapping an arm around your waist, “‘m sorry i woke you”

“it’s okay” you smiled,you brush a few locks of his hair away from his forehead, leaning up slightly to peck his lips. you pulled back slightly content with blissfully reveling in his presence before you sat up properly, pulling back the covers and climbing out of your bed, “c’mon i want my presents now”

“what makes you think i got you anything?” he mutters. eager to stay cuddled up in bed. his hopes were dashed as you dragged him towards you

you wonder how someone could be as cute as he was, despite his hair being messed up more than ever and his eyelids heavy with sleep. you bring your free hand up to his cheek and smile. his hand comes up to hold yours as he nuzzles into your palm, soft grey eyes affectionate and loving, the everpresent pout no longer visible on his face.

“because you love me” you reply, smiling when he grins lazily at you, a little bit dazed

"i do love you," he mumbles, leaning up and slowly kissing the corner of your lips. “wait here” he tells you softly as he stands up, giving you another quick kiss. you watch him leave the room with a fond expression on your face.

your 6’3 boyfriend returns less than two minutes later, cradling a (f/c) box filled to the brim with your favourite snacks, manga and a fluffy miffy plush. as well as the prettiest bouquet of flowers you’d ever seen.

you practically tackle him, hugging him tightly as he laughs. you pull back to admire the flowers in his hands and you gasp, reaching out to take one of them.

“are those lotuses?” you ask, staring at them lovingly. they almost glow under the light in your bedroom

“yeah,” he nods, “you said you liked them”

you loved lotuses, although nagi didn’t understand why. the soft pink lotus flowers and their dreamy forgetfulness and symbolic unwillingness to leave reminded you distinctly of him

“they’re beautiful, thank you so much” you beam. you took the bouquet from him, eyes widening when you realized they weren’t store bought. tears pricked your (e/c) irises and you sniffle as you tried your best not to lose it.

“ hey!” he says, noticing the tearful expression on your face. he cups your face gently “don’t start bawling on me yet”

“you made this yourself?” you whisper, staring in awe at the bouquet, “for me?”

“do i have another girlfriend or something?” he says, raising a questioning eyebrow at you. you glare at him before laughing

“shut up, i love you” you say. you wrap your arms around his neck and give him a tight hug. or at least you try to, the box slightly gets in the way.

“i love you too” nagi smiles, and it’s one of those smiles he reserves for you, one that lights up his face and makes him shine brighter than any star, “now look at the rest, ‘m sorry i didn’t wrap anything”

“too much of a pain?” you asked, tilting your head to the side. he nodded in response, holding out the next gift. a sleek photo album. the first page is filled with a plethora of pictures. there were candid shots of you, pictures you didn’t even know existed. the one that stuck out to you the most was a picture of you at the arcade on your first date.

“you can fill up the rest yourself” nagi yawned, trailing towards your bed and placing the box carefully down on it. you placed the pink and purple bouquet on your dressing table before joining him

“thank you sei” you said, you honestly couldn’t say it enough. when nagi had asked you out a few months ago you’d never imagined he could possibly make you feel this special. hell, you didn’t even care about your birthday that much. you almost hated him now, he’d ruined your expectations for life by making you feel like this..

nagi’s grey eyes drooped as he leaned against your pillow, “s’nothing, there’s one more thing you’ve gotta see tonight” he lazily pointed at a white box tucked neatly beside the cinnamoroll plush with a striking resemblance to nagi

you opened the box gingerly, the sweet scent of buttercream filled your senses. “a cake?” you exclaimed, “sei, you baked?? you baked me a cake??”

“i baked” nagi shrugged, “’s just a small one, and ‘s not from scratch”

you dipped your finger into the buttercream and licked the sweet (f/c) frosting off, “this is really good,” you tell him

“‘m just good at everything” he murmurs, grinning when you gave him an exasperated glance “‘m glad you like it”

“of course i do” you frowned slightly, “sit up for just a second, you gotta sing while i blow out my candles”

“‘m not singing”

“pleaseeeeee” you pleaded, “it doesn’t even have to be the full song, you owe me sei, since you woke me up”

“fine” he sighed, sitting up reluctantly. he watched patiently as you placed the candles in the centre of the cake and pressed the flame to the wax. once the candles were lit, you reached over and grabbed his hand.

he thought you looked really beautiful like this, with the candlelight casting your features in warm glow and your hair fanned out over your shoulders. you seemed ethereal. he stared at you and smiled softly, watching as the flickering light danced on your face, casting shadows onto your (e/c) eyes

“i don’t hear you singing” you said, giggling when his cheeks flushed a startling shade of pink.

“shut up” he huffed, looking away, but you only grinned wider as he sang for you. you didn’t know why he didn’t want to in the first place, he sounded like an angel. after the song was finished, you blew out your candles gently

you wished for a plethora of things all of which you knew nagi would stop at nothing to give you. you felt like he’d given you the entire world already. so you wished you could give him endless happiness. you wished you could spend day after day falling further in love with him, and you wished you could give him the entire universe

after the cake had been kept safely in the fridge and your breathtaking flowers arranged in a vase, you placed a lone lotus flower on your bedside table, nimbly slipping under the sheets beside your sweet boyfriend

“what did you wish for?” he asks, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as he kissed the top of your head

“my wish won’t come true if i tell you” you hummed.

“‘s not fair” he pouted, “i told you what i wished for on my birthday”

“if i kiss you will you shut up and go to sleep ?” you asked. nagi nodded meekly. you didn’t need to ask him twice. he’d do anything for you

© Y2KUROMI ‘23 please do not plagiarise, repost, or translate any of my works on here or any other websites.

#ִֶָ 𓂃˖ mimi writes?! #⋆ 𝓫. llk ﹕ #𓂃˖ letters from: nagi #nagi x y/n #nagi x you #seishiro nagi x reader #nagi seishiro #nagi x reader #bllk x reader #bllk fluff #bllk x you #I HATE THIS #but i love it sm too ughh #he’s js so!?!? #my man my man my man!

[ambassadorquark]

i don’t have anything new done for eldermourne finale day but here is a quick lineup i did a little while ago (last week i think). i’ll probably do some more involved tribute art after the fact but this turned out pretty cute nonetheless

#my art #naddpod #not another dnd podcast #eldermourne #fia boginya #henry hogfish #zirk vervain #actually…. this was supposed to be for a collab that was going on and i actually divvied it up into three #but for some reason it didn’t pan out. i dunno. here it is anyway

[sentinelpri]

Orion’s Belt (NSFW)

Optimus Prime considered himself a good leader.

Maybe he wasn’t the smartest, wisest, strongest, or the most patient, but he tried his best, and that was what mattered. He led his team with effort, humility, and grace, so while he had his obvious stumbles here and there, ultimately, he was doing good work. His subordinates- friends, even- seemed to respect and admire him, trust him, and he never wanted to do anything to ruin that...

...But that was why the secret that he’d been keeping for so long was as terrible as it was.

He had fallen in love with his youngest teammate, Bumblebee, a fresh out of the academy student who had dreams to go into the Elite Guard one day that were (unsurprisingly) ruined by Sentinel Prime, which is why he was now stuck repairing space bridges- a lot like Optimus, actually. As different as they were personality wise, they had many things in common, and maybe that was why Optimus felt so close to the little bot.

No, that wasn’t it, he told himself; it was Bumblebee’s personality. The yellow mech was humorous, full of mischief and life, curiosity and pizazz, energy and sunshine- all the things that Optimus lacked, and all the things that he’d fallen in love with the moment they met. It was terrible of him and he knew it, to fall for someone so much younger and happier and innocent... And that’s why he didn’t act on his feelings.

Despite Bumblebee being well into adulthood, he hadn’t even presented yet either, which made things even more complicated. Optimus was an alpha and had known that since he was a newspark, and from what Bumblebee had explained, he came from a long line of alphas and would likely present as one, too. Courting someone of the same class was uncommon, and Optimus knew that as much as he loved Bee, he was often turned off by the smell of another alpha. Surely, it wouldn’t work out in the long run anyways- not that Bumblebee loved him back, not that it was morally correct, not that it could ever happen, but even if it could, it just wouldn’t work.

It wasn’t meant to be.

So, that’s why Optimus kept to himself about it. He didn’t deserve someone so beautiful and kind regardless, not after everything he’d done. He was jaded, bitter, and an emotional wreck; many things that he would never want to corrupt Bumblebee’s exuberant energy with.

“Hey, Bossbot?”

He was snapped out of his thoughts by the sound of his subordinate, who was just a little too close to him for comfort. The two were standing in the large kitchen of their spaceship with Optimus heating up some energon for them to drink and Bumblebee watching him. He often wondered why the little bot insisted on being so close to him at all times when there was always plenty of room wherever they went, but he supposed he didn’t mind it, so he never said anything. As he watched their fuel boil in the pan on the stove in front of them, Bumblebee was so close that their servos brushed together whenever one of them moved. 

“Yes, Bumblebee?”

“I, uh... I don’t feel good,” The smaller bot mumbled, face noticeably redder than it usually was. Optimus immediately turned his helm to closely scrutinize his teammate, concerned- the only reason they were alone right now was because the rest of their space bridge repair team had caught a viral space bug and left to quarantine and recover back on Cybertron while Bumblebee and Optimus were forced to go back to work. They’d finished repairing the bridge they had been assigned that day and were now getting ready to have their evening fuel before recharge, but Bumblebee’s sudden claim had him worried. “I don’t know how to describe it, but it’s like I feel really hot, if that makes sense? Not like a fever, but like... A burning sensation, deep in my stomach chamber.”

“Like an ache?”

“Not quite... I dunno. It’s probably nothing, to be honest- I’ve just been on edge since everyone’s been getting sick, y’know? Every time I feel even an itch in my throat or cough a little bit I freak out. Really, though, you shouldn’t worry too much about me, Bossbot. I’m probably fine.”

“...If you say so,” Optimus shook his helm, unable to deny the feelings of dread and uncertainty that were building up in his gut. “Here, you should hurry up and drink. On the off chance that you’re coming down with something, you need to be fueled properly or it’ll be even worse. With how tiny your frame is, you really can’t afford to be skipping out on fueling sessions...” As he rambled on, he turned the heat off and poured them both a mug of the hot chocolate and banana flavored energon, careful to make sure that there was more in his subordinate’s mug than in his own. With that, the two mechs took their mugs and began to drink rather quietly until Optimus spoke again. “Can you tell me more about how you’re feeling? As in symptoms and whatnot?”

“Just the heat in my stomach, and I keep getting these flashes of hot and cold up and down my body that make me shiver... Headaches, too, and some soreness in my hip and thigh joints. Also kinda embarrassing, but everywhere around my interface panel just feels super weird- not like sore or aroused or anything like that, just weird.”

“I see,” Optimus muttered. None of the things Bumblebee described were akin to the symptoms of the space bug that was going around, so while the minor issues still worried him, he wasn’t super perturbed. He would just have to mention it to Ratchet next time they talked. “Let me know if anything changes, alright? And definitely let me know if you need anything- anything at all.”

“Can I ask something kinda personal?”

Optimus blinked, perplexed. It was rare that the other bot got serious or personal with him in any context, so naturally, it was confusing, but he wasn’t even sure what to say. He wanted to be as open and honest as he could with his teammates, but what exactly did Bumblebee mean by personal? Was it something that would cross the line of what was okay between a team captain and his subordinate? Or was it a simple question that he could answer without any trouble?

“Anything you’d like. Hit me with it.”

“Have you ever, um... Mated with someone?”

Optimus, who had just taken a small swig of his energon, promptly spat it all over himself in shock. Sky-blue optics blown wide, he stammered over his words at the same time that Bumblebee rushed to apologize and grab some cloths to wipe him off with. Whenever the little bot finished cleaning him up, all they could do was stand there awkwardly, faces bright red and servos shaking, optics staring down at the floor as if it was the most interesting thing in the room. Bumblebee downed the rest of his energon in one go and left the mug on the counter.

“I haven’t,” Optimus answered, voice cracking just a little bit. Despite the embarrassment, he somehow managed to continue. “I have experience, but I’ve never been in a committed enough relationship to mate with someone... Most of the people I’ve been with either ended up presenting as alphas like myself or just weren’t relationship material. Why do you ask?”

“I was never too worried about it when I was a kid or even in the academy, and I don’t know if it’s just coming up because I’m getting older and wanting to settle down a bit, but it’s been on my mind a lot the past couple days- a crazy amount, really, it’s like I can’t stop thinking about it, and not just the interfacing part either... More like the bond of it, the connection, settling down with someone and having sparklings. Have you ever felt like that?”

“I, uh... Well,” He stopped to think, knowing that the answer was yes. There were many nights that he stayed awake fantasizing about mating, bonding, and having sparklings with Bumblebee, but of course, Bee didn’t need to know that. Why was the other mech even asking such things anyways? Since when did he care? Why was he curious about Optimus’s personal life in such a way? Was he interested, or was he just trying to get some insight? Advice, maybe? “I suppose so, yes, but it only happens every once in a blue moon... Just when I think about the future. I’ve always wanted a family of my own.”

“Yeah, me too,” Bumblebee muttered and finished the last bit of his energon before abruptly slamming the mug down and shifting nervously. It seemed as if the awkwardness of the situation was finally sinking in for him. “... Anyways, thanks for the energon! I’m gonna go to my room for the night.”

“Alright, rest well, Bumblebee.”

Bumblebee only smiled, and then, he was leaving. 

Optimus sighed as he started to wash the dishes in the sink; just the two mugs and the pan that he heated their energon in, it went relatively quick. When he was done, he found himself still standing at the counter with anxiety bubbling in his processor. Even though he knew it was past midnight on Cybertron, he used his personal comm to dial Ratchet right then and there.

Ring, ring, ring-

“Prime, don’t you know how late it is on Cybertron right now?” The grouchy voice on the other end crackled through the phone, rough and scratchy. Ratchet coughed before continuing. “I’m sick and I’m trying to get some sleep so I can recover! This better be important!”

“Listen, I’m just a little worried about Bumblebee-”

“When are you not worried about that little cretin?” Ratchet demanded in a rather blunt manner, which made Optimus wonder if he wasn’t keeping his secret as well as he thought. He tried to ignore it.

“-and I wanted to ask you about some symptoms he expressed having just to see what you thought.”

“Go ahead.”

“He mentioned a burning sensation in his stomach, soreness in some of his joints, a quote on quote ‘weird’ feeling underneath his interface panel that isn’t pain or arousal, hot and cold flashes, and shivers.”

“Oh...” The medic stopped, clearly uncomfortable, almost as if he had realized something that he didn’t want to tell Optimus. “Oh my.”

“What? Is it something serious? Do you think he’s come down with what you guys got? Is he going to be okay? If you need me to, we can turn the ship around and come home right now for him to get diagnostic scans-”

“Stop panicking, you idiot, he’s probably just presenting! It’s not like it’s anything serious- at least not serious like a medical emergency would be.”

At that, Optimus froze.

“...What?”

“Yeah, didn’t you know that?” The way it was asked made Optimus feel like an idiot. His face flushed red as he continued to listen to Ratchet talk for a moment. “Those are all pretty common symptoms-”

“I didn’t have any of that when I went into my first rut!” He argued. 

“That’s because they’re omega symptoms. Has he brought up anything about mating or interfacing recently?”

Optimus blinked, thinking back on their earlier discussion. So that was why Bumblebee had brought that subject matter up so suddenly... Yikes. 

“Um... Yes.”

“Then I can’t guarantee it for sure without being there to run scans on him, but that’s probably what’s going on, Prime. Do you want me to comm him and tell him or...?”

“Uh, no, I’ll handle it,” His answer was admittedly rushed, but that was for a variety of what he felt like were valid reasons; Bumblebee was horrible at answering comms from his teammates, there was a good chance he was trying to sleep right now, Ratchet was already up when he should’ve been recharging and didn’t need to be kept up any later, and Bumblebee would surely be mad at Optimus if he found out that the Prime went behind his back and called Ratchet about his symptoms when he had explicitly told him to not worry and to leave it alone. So, he’d find a way to handle it on his own, even if the sweet smell of honey and lemon was starting to seep into the kitchen and take over his olfactory sensors, and even if this wasn’t his expertise. “Go back to sleep, Ratchet. Sorry to wake you, but I do appreciate the help. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The comm was hung up right after that, leaving him alone in the kitchen, but only for a few seconds. Before he knew it, the scent of an omega in heat was wafting even further throughout the ship and he heard tiny, uncharacteristically meek footsteps trailing towards the kitchen.

“Hey, Bossbot?”

Optimus turned to look at the mech who had just walked into the kitchen, all red face and twitchy servos, hazy optics and shaky voice. 

“Yeah, Bumblebee?”

“I-” And, in a turn of events, Bumblebee began to sob- not a little cry or a whimper, but a full on sob, the spark-wrenching sound pouring from in between his kissable looking lips as he covered his mouth with his servos and cried heavy lubricant tears that streamed down his blushing cheeks. “I really don’t feel good...”

“Oh, Bee,” Optimus felt his spark break at the sight, and though he wanted nothing more than to give into the urges wracking his processor right now, he tried to remind himself of proper protocol for a situation like this; make sure Bumblebee was okay, get him barricaded in a sealed room with blankets and pillows that smelled like the nearest alpha, and supply him with fuel and heat blockers if there were any on board. But, seeing his subordinate so upset, confused, and desperate, he couldn’t handle the thought of just locking him away in a room. Instead, he pulled Bumblebee into him, one arm around Bumblebee’s waist so a servo could rest on his hip and the other servo on the back of his head to bury the little bot’s face into his neck so he could scent him and get that comfort Optimus knew he needed in that moment. “I know this isn’t the most comforting thing to hear right now but based on everything you’ve described and your scent, I’m pretty sure you’re presenting as an omega and going into your first heat.”

“B-But, I wasn’t supposed to be a... A-An omega-!”

“I know,” Optimus cut him off, a frown taking over his face as he gently massaged circles into Bumblebee’s hip with his thumb. 

He had heard Bumblebee brag time and time again about how he came from a line of strong alphas with only a couple of betas and no omegas whatsoever in his familial unit, and about how he was bound to present as an alpha any day now. Apparently, he’d been wrong, and Optimus had conflicted feelings about it. On one hand, it was nice that the mech he’d been wanting for so long wasn’t the same class as him so he actually had a chance someday, but on the other hand, Bumblebee seemed genuinely pained over it, and Optimus found that he’d rather Bumblebee have presented as an alpha or even a beta so he could be happy, but that wasn’t what had happened, and now they were going to have to deal with it one way or another. Even worse, it was just going to be the two of them for the next few days with how far their ship was from Cybertron or any neutral planets that weren’t ruled by the Decepticons, so they were just... Stuck like this with no heat or scent blockers whatsoever on the ship. 

What the hell was he supposed to do? All he could manage in that moment was to stand there like an idiot with Bumblebee in his arms, shushing the yellow mech even though he knew it wasn’t comforting at all and that he had no idea what his friend was going through, how he felt, or how to handle anything that was going on right now.

“Bossbot, I’m scared,” The words were honest, coming out in a trembling whisper as Bumblebee wrapped his arms back around Optimus and fearfully clutched at the red and blue bot’s strong back in an attempt to ground himself. The sobs had turned into sniffles and a few tears that Optimus could feel falling onto the crook between his neck and his shoulder from Bumblebee’s optics, but he could feel the panic from both of them permeating through the room. “I-I’ve never felt like this before, and I don’t know what to do, y’know? I don’t have an alpha or even a beta to mate with, and what am I going to tell my family? They’ll be so disappointed, and I just... I feel so hot...”

It was true that Bumblebee was scalding- his heated metal against Optimus’s was burning in a soothing way that he wanted more of, but he knew that for Bumblebee, it must’ve been uncomfortable.

“Look... You can’t control how you present, so if your family is disappointed, they’re obviously in the wrong for that and making a mistake; you’re amazing the way you are, omega or not, Bumblebee. I know this is hard and complicated to deal with, and I can’t possibly understand how you feel right now, but I want to be able to help, so...” Optimus inhaled deeply, intoxicated by Bumblebee’s scent- it was coming out in waves, a lot more intense now that he was in the Prime’s presence, almost as if calling out for him. His voice dropped an octave as he spoke again. “Tell me what you need from me and I’ll do it- anything you want, anything to make you feel better, because I know I don’t say it enough, but I do care about you and I hate seeing you upset like this.”

“You,” Bumblebee murmured and pulled away from his neck to look up at him, bright blue optics hazy and a couple of shades darker with lust as the yellow bot wiped the tears away from them and leaned into his chest. Optimus felt heat consume his entire body, his spike pressurizing underneath his interface panel and threatening to make said panel pop open, but he tried his best to remain calm and collected regardless. After all, what kind of leader would he be if he took advantage of Bumblebee while he was in such a vulnerable state? The smaller mech had never expressed any romantic interest before. Surely, he wasn’t in love with Optimus like Optimus was with him, and this sudden desire was fueled by the lust that his heat was making him feel... Right? That had to be it. But then again, Bumblebee was looking at him so sincerely, so lovingly that he almost broke under the stare. It took everything in him not to just take his subordinate right then and there. “I need you.”

“Wh... What?” 

“I need you,” Bumblebee reiterated. “Please, Bossbot, I need you so bad right now.”

“Look, Bumblebee, I know you’re in heat and that’s probably clouding your judgement but trust me on this- you don’t want me. You aren’t aware of it all, but I’ve been through a lot, and honestly? You’re too good for me... Too innocent. I’m afraid I’ll ruin you with how messed up I am,” Optimus placed his servos on Bumblebee’s shoulders and averted his gaze. Despite what he was saying, though, all he wanted was for Bumblebee to tell him that he was wrong, that he wanted him more than anything and that no other mech would do, even if he knew that it was both improper and morally questionable for them to act on such feelings. “There’s a million alphas and betas out there who would be ten times better for you. I’m the only one on the ship right now and it’s probably going to be really hard to get through this by ourselves, but we should really refrain from-”

“I do want you,” Bumblebee argued. “I... I know this is bad timing, but I’ve always wanted you, Bossbot. I don’t care how messed up you think you are, I’m in love with you, and if it takes this for me to finally tell you, so be it, but I want you to reject me because you don’t want me back, not because of some slag about me being too good for you when that isn’t even true!”

“Bee...”

“So? Do you want me or not?” Bumblebee demanded an answer, squeezing his thighs together. It was apparent that he was getting increasingly desperate by the second. 

“I do want you,” Optimus gulped. “More than anything.”

Many emotions were flooding through Optimus’s spark in that moment. Love, adoration, lust, desire, yearning... All of them mixed to make a mess of his composure, turning him into a twitchy, blushing mess that wanted nothing more than to reach out and finally make Bumblebee his after so many years of waiting for an opportunity like this. It was questionable, they would get fired for it if their superiors found out, and it was still true that Bumblebee was too good for him, but deep down he was a selfish mech and Primus be damned, he wanted to be happy like everyone else for once, and Bumblebee was his happiness incarnate; a ray of sunshine pouring through puffy grey clouds after a long rainstorm, a hot drink after a long and cold day, a gentle massage on sore shoulder plates, a long hug and the feeling of being held by a loved one just because.

“Then have me... Please.”

Whatever reservations Optimus had left broke at that, and he found himself wrapping his arms tighter around Bumblebee’s waist with one hand on the smaller bot’s upper back and the other on his hip. Electricity drumming through his circuits, he bent Bumblebee down and leaned in to steal a heated, messy kiss. Bumblebee’s servos were intertwined and resting on the back of his neck, and one of the little bot’s legs was quickly tossed around his waist. He deepened the kiss and used his grip to pick Bumblebee up so that he could wrap both legs around his waist and his arms around his neck, fully supported. 

“Mind if I take you to my room? It’ll smell like me,” Optimus broke the kiss and whispered the words in Bumblebee’s audial.

All he earned in return was a weak moan and a hurried nod. So, he did as he had promised and carried the other mech to the bedroom that he had on the ship, barely able to contain himself because of how Bumblebee was scenting him whilst pressing kisses into his neck and occasionally nipping at his scent glands. 

When he got to the room, he pushed the door open and walked in with Bumblebee still in his arms before gently setting him on the edge of the bed and taking him in; narrow chest heaving up and down from heavy breaths and pants, face and chest flushed a beautifully bright red, bright blue optics glazed over with lust, and a thin sheen of condensation covering his frame, Bumblebee in heat proved to be a beautiful and alluring sight and smell. Honey and lemon continued to pour off of him in waves, even more so when his interface panel popped open on its own to reveal his pressurized spike. With how he was sitting, Optimus couldn’t see the other bot’s valve, but he could only imagine that it was dripping with arousal and ready for him, and the mere thought made him shudder before he knelt between Bumblebees legs and put his servos on Bee’s thighs to spread them even further apart.

“B-Bossbot,” Bumblebee breathed, shifting nervously but unable to move his lower body from Optimus’s hold. 

“Drop the ‘Bossbot’ for a bit, won’t you? My name is Optimus Prime, and I want to hear you say it a lot tonight if we’re going to be intimate like this,” He explained and used his grip on Bumblebee’s thighs to tilt his hips upwards so he could see his valve, only to see that it was covered in a thin, translucent seal- completely untouched. Optimus’s optics widened in surprise and flickered up to glance at Bumblebee, who appeared nervous for reasons that were now obvious to the red and blue bot- he hadn’t touched his own valve or had anything done to it and was probably inexperienced if not a virgin entirely. “...You’re still sealed?”

“U-Um... Yeah,” Bumblebee raised his servos to cover his blushing face and avoided Optimus’s intense gaze. “I haven’t really... Done anything with anyone. I don’t have experience, sorry-”

“Don’t apologize. I don’t mind at all, and I’m glad I’m your first,” He gave a soft, reassuring smile and tenderly massaged the inside of Bumblebee’s thighs. He received a heated sigh and a twitch in return. “I’ll be sure to be really gentle, okay? Tell me if I hurt you or if you need anything.”

“Okay.”

Bumblebee inhaled sharply as Optimus’s optics scanned over his face to make sure that he was alright before continuing. When he did, he remained kneeling between the other bot’s legs, one hand on one of Bumblebee’s thighs and the other moving to touch his valve. He was slow and cautious at first, simply running a digit up and down the length of his lover’s velvety folds to tease at the area. At the same time, he used his spare servo to grab Bumblebee’s spike by the base- fully pressurized, leaking with a bead of prefluid, and black and yellow like the rest of his frame. He pumped it lightly and looked up at the other mech’s face to gauge his reaction.

“How does that feel?”

“Mm... Feels good, kinda weird though... Different,” Bumblebee’s shy mumbling was accompanied by him lightly bucking his hips. “Can I have more?”

“Ask nicely and you can,” Optimus teased, and though he expected Bumblebee to get flustered and refuse to give in to what he wanted, he was pleasantly surprised at the yellow bot’s next words. 

“More... Please, Prime.”

He gave a nod of approval and leaned up to give Bumblebee a quick peck before getting back to work. 

“There you go...”

With that, he was delving in full force, face buried in Bumblebee’s valve and tongue lapping at his folds- sure but careful, careful not to forcefully break the seal that kept him from exploring the small hole with his digits and tongue, translucent and thin but a bitch to break without pain- something he knew from experience, but then again, it would probably be easier for an omega. As he ate his subordinate out, his servo around Bumblebee’s spike continued to pump up and down, slow and steady so he could start a good rhythm to get Bumblebee’s first climax of the night in the process of building up.

When he glanced up again, it was easy to see how Bumblebee was falling apart right in front of him; twitching servos grabbing at Optimus’s charcoal bedsheets for purchase, hips helplessly bucking into his face and hand, face a shade of red Optimus had never seen it before, optics glazed over with lust, and expression tight from the pressure that was starting to compound. Not only was it easy to see it, but it was easy to smell it in the air as well, the now-familiar scent of honey and lemon was permeating the room and even the entire ship at an ungodly rate, mixed with something carnal and sexual and hot that consumed Optimus’s entire being. He could tell that Bumblebee’s heat was sending him into rut, too, his own scent of fresh rain and sandalwood beginning to slowly seep out of his scent glands.

“B-Bossbot,” Bumblebee moaned without restraint and tilted his helm back as he swallowed deeply. 

It was true that he’d instructed the omega to call him by his name instead of the familiar Bossbot, but if he was being honest, that title had always triggered a certain instinct in him that he refrained from talking about because of how inappropriate it was. But then again, his helm was currently being crushed by his subordinate’s thin yet strong thighs right now and his mouth was full of said subordinate’s sweet juices, so no matter how long he’d shown restraint and resisted the urge to do something, he had gone and done it, already having breached the line of inappropriate. He supposed it didn’t matter anymore anyways, so he may as well go all the way with it, right?

“Louder,” He huffed into the smaller bot’s anterior node before prodding at it with his warm glossa. 

“Bossbot!”

Bumblebee was louder just as he’d been told to be, letting whatever inhibitions he’d had left go as he panted, sighed, moaned, and cried out with his servos having found Optimus’s audial fins to grab and pull. They’d always been a sensitive zone, and as Bumblebee continued to yank at them haphazardly, his interface panel popped open. His spike bobbed up, fully pressurized, brushing against the bedsheets, but he used what willpower he had left to keep from touching himself so he could instead focus on the omega in front of him; desperate, debauched, and in need of release. 

To his surprise, he heard a satisfying, wet snap and looked down to see that Bumblebee’s seal had broken to fully reveal his valve; tight, soaked, and clenching and unclenching around nothing, clearly ready to be filled. He peered up at his subordinate again, not stopping his motions with his servo nor his mouth, and the second they made eye-contact with sky-blue burning into a much brighter blue, Bumblebee was finishing. It was intense with Bumblebee’s thighs practically crushing his helm, servos holding onto his finials for dear life, and valve dripping an insane amount of lubricant onto his face and into his mouth at the same time that Bee’s spike shot transfluid up and onto his abdomen. Slowly, Optimus eased Bumblebee through the orgasm before pulling away and leaning up to lick the transfluid off of his tummy, which earned him a shudder in return.

“Was that good, honey?” Optimus asked with a tilt of his helm. 

“Amazing,” Bumblebee breathed and moved back so he could lay on the bed, supporting his weight on his elbows. He was looking up at Optimus with a hazy, dazed look as the Prime crawled on top of him, and in that moment, he couldn’t help but notice just how small Bee looked compared to him and his bed- while Optimus easily took up half of it on his own, the omega in front of him looked absolutely tiny sprawled out on his charcoal-hued bedding. He was reminded of just how small his lover was, of just how gentle and careful he was going to have to be with him, even if the lust from the rut he’d been launched into was practically tearing him apart from the inside out. “M-More, please, Bossbot... Wanna feel your spike inside of me.”

The words were accompanied by Bumblebee’s optics landing on his spike, a hungry look on the yellow bot’s face. He bit his lower lip.

“Tell me more and I’ll give you what you want, yes?” He prompted at the same time that he wiped the other bot’s juices from his face. 

“Want you so bad,” Bumblebee squirmed and shut his optics, almost as if embarrassed to look at Optimus as he confessed his deepest fantasies. “I, uh... ‘ve always wanted you, Bossbot, I think about what it would feel like for you to frag me almost every night. Y’know, I’ve even had to leave when I’ve been around you to go take care of myself, but no matter how much I told myself that it was wrong or that alphas shouldn’t do that, I couldn’t help it... You’re just so hot, y’know that?”

“I’ve thought about you, too,” Optimus said, if not to get it out of the way then to make Bumblebee feel a little better about it since he appeared to be embarrassed. “I’ve thought about it a lot; what it would be like to frag you, how you’d moan, how you’d kiss me, the way your valve would feel around me, the face you’d make when you finish... I can’t get enough of you right now, don’t think I could ever get enough, my little Bee.”

My. Optimus flushed as he realized what he’d said.

“Yours...?” Bumblebee tilted his helm and allowed Optimus to spread his legs so that the Prime could position himself between them on his knees. 

“Mine,” He owned it the best he could and pushed Bumblebee to lay on his back, grabbing one of the omega’s servos in his and interlacing their digits. He looked at his lover with an expression that was long and hard and genuine, something he was usually too guarded to give but something he felt was necessary to convey just how in love he was. “Be mine, Bee. I know it’s complicated given our positions, but I promise I’ll give you anything you could ever want, treat you like you deserved to be treated, and I’ll love you for the rest of our lives. You won’t regret it.”

In return, he got a sloppy smile and a nod.

“I was already yours from the start, Bossbot...” It was those words that spurred him on enough for him to lean forward and use his spare servo to prod at Bumblebee’s valve, digits rooting around the supple folds and rubbing at the soft bud of pleasure that was there for a moment. That action earned him a sharp gasp, so while continuing it with his thumb and pointer, he used his middle and ring finger to gradually dip into his lover’s valve. It was tight, even tighter than he’d expected, but then again, his hands were comically large compared to most of Bumblebee’s body, as was the rest of him... He just hoped and prayed that with the prep work and the fact that Bumblebee was in heat, his spike would be able to fit. “A-Ah, frag...”

Whether it was the heat fully kicking in or pure lust and willpower, Optimus didn’t know, but Bumblebee was ignoring the obvious burn that came with such a stretch and opting to buck his hips into the touch.

“Easy now, sweetspark... As much as I love the enthusiasm, I don’t want you to go too hard and hurt yourself. We have all the time in the world, okay? Slow down and let me please you- you shouldn’t be doing any of the work, honey.” With his urging, Bumblebee whined before acquiescing and laying back flat, still holding one of Optimus’s hands. Optimus waited for a moment and then continued, tenderly pumping his fingers in and out of his lover’s valve. The entire time, he watched Bumblebee’s face, only for Bumblebee to start turning his helm and looking away in embarrassment. “Hey, now, don’t get all shy on me... You’re beautiful. I want you to look at me as I do this, I’ve been dreaming about making you mine for far too long for you to hide your pretty face from me during it.”

“O-Okay,” Bumblebee agreed, although begrudgingly. All Optimus could do was smile and crook his fingers, making Bumblebee cry out and lurch up to reach for his audial fins again. “Frag! Please, just frag me already, I can’t take this waiting anymore... Y’know I’m in heat, don’t ‘cha? I’m so turned on that it hurts, Bossbot, need you to frag me, make me yours, fill me up ‘till I can’t think anymore! It feels like I’m on fire right now, and you smell so good; please, please, please-”

“Alright, honey, if you so insist... I’ve got’cha, okay? Just give me a bit and I’ll make you feel really good, make you feel better, I promise.” Even though he’d planned to drag it out, to make Bumblebee finish another time with his servos and make him desperate and begging, he’d already seemed to accomplish the latter without too much work. That and his own arousal mixed with the way Bumblebee was literally tearing up because of his need for release was enough to make him relent and slowly drag his fingers out before positioning himself at the other bot’s entrance, the head of his spike dribbling just enough prefluid to act as even more lubricant for the both of them. “You’re sure, right? We can always stop-”

“Bossbot, if you don’t rail me this instant, I’m going to cry,” Bumblebee breathed exasperatedly and threw his head back onto the pillow, still holding his hand. Optimus wrapped his free arm around Bumblebee’s waist, under his back for leverage and to support the both of them as he pressed their bodies flush together and slowly sunk his spike into his lover’s valve. “A-Ah! Optimus!”

It was shocking to hear his real name cried out like that without him pushing for it, but he quickly realized that he wouldn’t mind hearing more of it- a lot more of it. Initially, it was a tight fit with his spike barely going in and being clenched around with a vice grip, but the mix of Bumblebee’s heat and all of the lubricant allowed for an easy adjustment. The tension seeped out of them both almost all at once as Optimus buried his face in Bumblebee’s neck to scent him, Bumblebee doing the same to him. It was an intimate act, one that was strictly shared between two lovers, and them doing what was so simple yet so meaningful made Optimus’s spark flutter. 

His knot began to swell up at the base of his spike, ready to be used for the first time in what must’ve been light years- hell, he hadn’t slept with anyone since he was in the Autobot Academy, and that was forever ago. Bumblebee got accustomed to his size rather quickly, so he started a slower pace with deep, thorough thrusts. 

Surprisingly, though, Bumblebee’s thighs were twitching and clenching around his waist in seconds, he was tugging at Optimus’s finials, and his eyes were screwing shut with tears of pleasure pouring from them as he threw his helm back and came with a heated cry.

“W-Wow, already?” Optimus chuckled, breathy and light, only to earn a glare in return. 

He slowed his thrusts to gradually ease Bumblebee out of the orgasm before continuing. He didn’t want to overstimulate him too terribly since this was his first time, but all he got in exchange for his consideration was pure, unadulterated sass.

“D-Did you forget the part where I’m in heat? I’m sensitive, Bossbot...!” Bumblebee whined and pouted, jutting out his bottom lip with a heavy blush. Optimus chuckled yet again and leaned down to give him a gentle kiss, only for a shaky warning to then be whispered against his lips as a pair of spindly legs wrapped around his waist. “Don’t tease me.”

“I’m not teasing you, honey, I just like it... It’s nice that I can get you so worked up so easily,” Optimus explained with a smile and continued fucking into Bumblebee’s drenched valve, velvety and fluttering around him, warm and inviting as it drew his spike back in and clenched down. While he started slow and steady at first, he quickly began to chase his finish yet again and picked up the pace, which had Bumblebee shaking underneath him. “My pretty little bee... Scrap, you’re so beautiful, Bee. Can I mark you?”

Marking was a big step. In any relationship between two partners, things usually went from courtship (which they had skipped) to mating to marking, the process of both parties leaving bitemarks to claim each other so others would know that they were taken, and then to bonding, which was the act of touching their sparks and merging them. Marking was the first sign of a committed relationship, and if Optimus was being honest, he wasn’t sure he deserved the honor of marking Bumblebee and being marked by him in return considering that he’d hid his feelings for so long, but he’d already leaped into this headfirst tonight, so why not make sure everyone knew that he was Bee’s, and that Bee was his? 

“Please, Optimus,” Bumblebee pleaded, apparently just as needy for it as his was. “Mark me, I need it, need everyone to know I’m finally yours...!”

He listened without hesitation, continuing his fast and rough pace as he leaned down to bite Bumblebee’s shoulder. His mouth was so much larger in comparison to Bumblebee’s that, on the much smaller bot’s body, the bitemark on his shoulder plate appeared giant and would surely be seen by anyone who interacted with him- just what he wanted, because fuck the hiding, fuck the secrets, fuck the ranks, he didn’t care anymore- he just wanted everyone to know that Bumblebee was his and his alone. In return, he earned a gentle and quick yet thorough bite on the side of his neck that dripped with a few beads of energon. 

“Say my name, Bee,” Optimus huffed with an especially hard, precise thrust and got exactly what he wanted as a result.

“O-Op... Optimus! Frag, Optimus, I’m gonna overload again...!”

“Louder for me, and say all of it this time... Tell me you’re mine.”

“Optimus! I’m yours,” Bumblebee obeyed immediately, so as a reward, Optimus continued what he was doing, keeping pace and reassuringly squeezing the hand of Bumblebee’s that was was still pinned to the mattress and holding his. “All yours, Optimus Prime! F-Frag, I’m so close, you’re making me feel so good, please-”

“I’m gonna fill you up, alright?” The words were stammered and barely came out properly in the midst of his lust, but he managed to get them out well enough for Bumblebee to understand and nod in response at the same time that he managed to pop his knot into the smaller bot’s entrance.

It was all too much now. The marking, Bumblebee’s enhanced scent flooding his olfactory sensors, the moans pouring into his audials, the little servos grasping at his finials, the way Bumblebee desperately bucked his hips up into him to meet his thrusts, the incoherent begging coming from the kiss-bruised lips underneath him that were parted and dripping with a sliver of drool, the feeling of that tight valve squeezing his spike- he was sure he would overload any moment now.

Optimus had fantasized about what this moment would be like countless times. He had thought of what he would say, all the dirty talk he’d spew, how good he would make Bumblebee finish around his spike, and so much more, but as he felt his climax washing over him, all he could do was gasp and speak low, shaky I love you’s into Bumblebee’s audial. He overloaded with an uncharacteristically soft cry, sending a large amount of transfluid from his engorged spike into Bumblebee’s valve, steadily pumping it into his gestation chamber. The yellow mech’s legs tightened around Optimus’s body on instinct to keep him trapped for long enough to fill him up, and much more intense than before, he overloaded around Optimus’s spike in a way that made his valve clench down hard enough to milk the Prime for everything he had. 

“I-I love you, too, by the way...” Bumblebee managed to whisper, even in his post-overload glow, legs falling from around Optimus’s waist and weakly flopping onto the mattress, twitching. “Bossbot... Optimus.”

With a shudder, Optimus repositioned them the best he could with his knot still swollen so they could lay on their sides and cuddle whilst facing each other, optics on Bumblebee the entire time. The little bot looked absolutely wrecked, just as he’d intended for him to look. Thankfully, Optimus was well-prepared (and had also spent an embarrassing amount of time in his berth self-servicing to Bumblebee) and had stocked up on a good amount of cleaning wipes before they’d gone on this job. He reached over to pull some from his nightstand drawer, delicate with his motions as he dragged a wipe over Bumblebee’s body to clean him of any sweat and repeated the process with another wipe over his spike and the outside of his valve to rid him of any extra transfluid or lubricant. He then did the same for himself and tossed all the wipes away in the bin next to his berth. Bumblebee quickly and silently wrapped his arms around Optimus and buried his face in the older bot’s chest. He happily reciprocated but didn’t pull the blankets over them- Bumblebee was still in heat and would continue to be for the next week, after all, so he didn’t want to risk making him overheat.

Optimus let out a small sigh as he settled and pulled Bumblebee further into his arms. His knot began to swell down slowly but surely, though the smaller bot had already fallen asleep, long optical lashes fluttering against his high-set cheeks and warm body curled up to Optimus’s. There would be another talk in the morning about everything they’d done and what it meant for them, how they would proceed with their relationship in the future, everything they were and weren’t going to tell the rest of their team when they got back, and plenty more. All the Prime could do in that moment was smile, something relaxed and loving and full of adoration... He didn’t have anything to worry about. They were in love, they were mates, and everything was going to be fine. 

He managed to tear his gaze away from his lover just long enough to look out the window of his bedroom- a large screen of incredibly secure Cybertronian glass that gave him a perfect view of the vast space that surrounded them on their journey. Just outside where their little repair ship continued to float, he could see a blanket of stars surrounding them. Three especially bright ones stood out to him, all in a perfect little belt, but he only stared at them for a few seconds before looking at Bumblebee again because no matter how many times he’d seen his lover, he proved to be a more captivating sight than anything else. 

Peace and tranquility flooded through his circuits as he realized that, perhaps, this little secret of his- of theirs, now- wasn’t so bad after all.

#tf #tfa #transformers #transformers animated #drabble #drabbles #oneshot #oneshots #transformers smut #valveplug #abo #abo dynamics #bumbleop #tfa bumbleop #bumblebee x optimus prime #tfa bumblebee x optimus prime #bumblebee #tfa bumblebee #optimus prime #tfa optimus prime #sentinel prime #tfa sentinel prime #team prime #alpha optimus prime #omega bumblebee #pre-canon #PLS READ THIS I SPENT LIKE 2 WEEKS ON IT

[emerald-phoenix-dragon]

"straight as a ruler"

Hey yall, here’s the long-awaited deamus fic that we’ve all been waiting for! If you want to follow my tumblr, it’s on my instagram profile now :). And if anyone from tumblr wants to follow my instagram, my handle’s @em.jade_dragon on there! Do like, share, save, reblog etc my posts, it really helps! More interaction (i.e interaction with my stories, commenting) would be very much appreciated :D. Anyways, without further ado, let’s get into things!

This is an eighth-year AU. TW/CW: food, alcohol, parties. stay safe everyone!

After the war, Professor McGonagall (now headmistress) invited all of the previous seventh-years back to Hogwarts to give them the chance to learn all of what they missed out on, as well as complete their NEWTs if they wished to do so. Most of the students did end up returning, even though a lot of them already had jobs (or offers that they had accepted).

The “eighth-years” were given their very own common room, and Dean was very glad for this.

It had been a relatively easy Saturday, and now, it was around 6pm, and the sun had just set. And because it was a Saturday, everyone was prepared for the event they all looked forward to - the weekly eight-year party. When Dean finally arrived on scene, albeit slightly late due to some solo quidditch practise (they didn't have any teams, but the eighth-years often had fun matches that were inter-house) to take his mind off something that had been bugging him for a while: Seamus. he couldn't quite put a finger on why he was having that nagging, butterfly-feeling in his stomach whenever he thought of his late best friend, but he kept on ignoring it hoping it'd go a way. He had the slightest suspicion what it might've been - after all, Dean was pretty sure he was pansexual, so it wasn't completely unexpected. But he'd intentionally tried to forget about it. He had, for a little, whilst he was outside, but now, as he entered the common room, he grew queasy again knowing his best friend would be looking for him.

As soon as he stepped foot inside, he noticed that a lot of people were already half-wasted. He must've been later than he thought.

"Dean-y, there you are!" He turned to see Ginny Weasley bounding towards him cheerfully, her eyes a little glassy. Other than that, she appeared to be pretty sober. "Gin, hey," Dean replied, giving her a light hug. They'd dated for a short while previously, but had broken it off after they both realised they were better of as friends. He was glad for that - they'd never have worked out, not when Ginny was practically in love with another classmate of theirs (spoiler alert - it wasn't Harry). He knew she, Neville and Luna had snuck into the party again. Not that anybody minded.

Ginny laughed loudly, and ran a hand through her cropped shoulder-length hair. She'd reportedly gotten Neville to cut it for her. "Needed a change", Dean remembered her telling him a month back. It suited her. "Dean, helloOo?" Ginny waved her hand in his face, and Dean blinked. "Come on, let's go say hi to everyone else!" she said, and promptly dragged him to the end corner of the room. There, on the couch, sat the golden trio, squished in with the bronze trio group. Neville and Luna were there too - Neville and Blaise were engaged in a flirty conversation on the floor, and Luna smiling fondly at them. She turned when Dean and Ginny approached.

"Oh, hello, Dean. How was quidditch practise?" she asked sweetly. He told her it was fine and she nodded. "Got a case of wrack spurts around you. Seamus, too."

Dean wondered what it meant. He was about to ask but before he could Ginny had strolled up to her girlfriend and had begun kissing Luna rather passionately. Sighing, he sat down near Blaise.

Hermione and Ron were cackling loudly with Pansy, who was telling a story involving Draco and the giant squid. Draco was silently sulking, leaning against Harry who was playing mindlessly with his partner's hair. "Dean, mate, you made it!" Harry said, nodding at him.

He smiled slightly. "Yeah. What'd I miss?" "Well, Dray here's been traumatised by Pansy and Ron and 'Mione-" "-They were not!-" Pansy cut in, now listening to the conversation as Hermione and Ron started discussing something about Percy Weasley and his new relationship with Oliver Wood.

Dean and Harry laughed. Malfoy scowled, but their eyes were light. "-Anyways, Ron and 'Mione and I had a fun time teasing Blaise and Nev, and at some point we were all dancing to ABBA music but we settled down again." Harry continued.

Ron nodded. He made a terrible impression of Parvati and Lavender, who had been singing along, before he stopped and seemed to remember something. "Oh yeah, and Seamus came looking for you. Not sure where he's gone now, but Luna said something about some girl rejecting him and now he's probably sulking-" Luna, by this point, had tuned into the conversation, with Ginny now sitting in her lap and gazing lovingly at her. "I never said she was a she, Ron. But yes, he had quite a lot of fuzz around his head." "You should go check on him, mate, he's your bestie!" Ginny suddenly exclaimed, her voice slurring. Dean nodded and got up, exiting the scene.

***

Despite having left his circle of friends rather swiftly, Dean had been interrupted several times for small chats and drinks with people in the room before he could even start searching for Seamus. He'd heard the latest gossip from Padma Patil and Wayne Hopkins, been given a bottle of fire whisky from Theo Nott, and had discussed the uses of owl feathers with owl enthusiast Michael Corner. At this point he'd gotten rather tired and was a tad bit intoxicated.

He ended exiting the common room and heading down into a more quiet hallway to try and sober up, when he'd heard quiet sniffling in the corner. Curious, Dean cautiously approached the noise to find Seamus sitting hunched against the wall, a bottle cradled in his palms. When Dean approached him, Seamus looked up and wiped the tears from his eyes rather swiftly.

"Guess you finally decided to turn up whilst your best mate got his heart broken, huh?" he said bitterly, his Irish accent coming out thicker than it usually did. Dean's heart melted a little, and he felt incredibly guilty. "Seamus, I'm so sorry I was clearing my head out a bit at the quidditch pitch and lost track of time, I feel awful I-" Seamus put a hand up, telling him to stop. He stood up and put the bottle on the floor. Dean couldn't help but notice how soft Seamus' hair looked tonight, and how toned his muscles were through the thin school shirt. Seamus, unfortunately, noticed Dean's staring. "What're you staring at for?" "I- nothing", Dean said quickly, awkwardly scratching his neck, looking away at the wall for a second. He'd forgotten how incredibly fit the Irish boy was, even though he was both taller and more muscular than Seamus. They stood in silence a bit, before Seamus spoke up. "I asked someone out today. Thought I'd give m'self a shot, y'know? But they said no. It wasn't a girl who- who rejected me. It-" he breathed out shakily, and Dean realised how incredibly shattered he was, and put a hand on Seamus' arm without thinking about it too much. "-It was a guy. Stephen something from Ravenclaw."

Dean didn't know what to say. He had wondered if his best friend had been 'bent', but never really thought about it too deeply. Inwardly he felt his guts churn and he suddenly felt strangely content, but he wasn't sure why "I- I'm so sorry mate, that's awful," he began, and trying to lighten the atmosphere, continued, "Maybe Steph wasn't into white guys?" His best mate laughed, and it was a broken, hollow sound. "Thanks Dean-o, really makes meh feel better. Perhaps he's into you, eh?" "I- well I'm not into him-" he began, but Seamus cut him off. "Bloody no shit, you're straight as a ruler!"

"But I'm not. Straight as a ruler, you say. I'm- I think I'm pan, Shay." "I- what?" Somehow, without Dean realising, Seamus had brought his hands onto his chest. And now all he could feel was his calloused palms digging slightly onto his chest, over his erratically beating heart. "I thought I was the gay bloke out of the two of us! Like, I dunno, at least the only fruity one."

"I guess you thought wrong." Dean said awkwardly.

"I guess I did." They stood there for another minute, staring at each other.

And suddenly Dean remembered that he was still holding onto Seamus rather tightly, so he made to let go, when he felt hands sliding down to his waist and gripping him. Astonished, he glanced up from staring at the floor and looked into his best mate's deep brown eyes. He reached his other hand out unconsciously, cupping his chin. "Oh, for fuck's sake!" Shay said, the lilt in his tongue sounding for some reason really hot.

Next thing Dean knew, Seamus had crashed his lips onto him, pushing him into the opposite wall of the narrow corridor.

He didn't respond at first. Seamus stopped for a second, pulling back. "Kiss me back, you dolt, or I swear to merlin I'll be punching that fucking sexy face of yours-" Next thing Seamus knew, Dean was snogging him back.

~fin

#deamus #seamus finnegan #dean thomas #dean x seamus #harry potter #hermione granger #ronald weasley #pansy parkinson #draco and harry #draco malfoy #blaise zabini #neville longbottom #luna lovegood #ginny weasley #linny #bleville #eight year AU #hogwarts #fanfic #fluff #angst #oblivious pining #lgbt #gay #oneshot

[peppermint2d]

F#$%ing uh, Calm after the Storm cuz the Storm Thing

It's 2D's birthday today, so enjoy another chapter!

Ch.1 in case you missed it

Chapter 2:

When you come to again, you see that the movie was indeed paused from what you last remember. Since he is in the basement, it was still dark inside 2D's room. You could see his sleeping form on his bed, lightly snoring with each inhale. It was still cold, but you promised to give the jacket back, so you gently lay it on top of him. You leave his room, hearing Noodle giggle far away.

There were no windows in the hallway, so you again relied on the walls for help and tried to follow the noises of Noodle in the kitchen. Climbing two flights of stairs in the dark is easier than it sounds, especially since as you reached the upper floor, the windows helped a little. It was still storming outside, but at least outside was brighter, even if by only a small amount.

As you walk into the kitchen, you hear the hiss of the stove releasing gas and see Noodle with a pack of matches. As she strikes one, you tackle her, and the air above you catches fire, burning your arm that you put up the shield both of you. "Ah fuck!" Tears well up in your eyes.

Noodle quickly squirms out from your grasp and puts a pan on the now lit stove. All that for breakfast? You check your arm and see a blister forming. There is no ice in the fridge since it all melted, so you wet a towel and hold it on the burn. Noodle shoos you away from the sink and fridge, removing butter, potatoes, and pancake mix from the cabinets. "Batā daijōbu? Bīgandesu ka?" She asked, holding up the butter.

"Sure, anything is fine."

She nods and quickly whips up breakfast for both of you and enough extras for the rest of the band. She sits on the island counter next to you. "Thank you for breakfast." You push the food around as you attempt to eat with one hand.

She hums questioningly and points to her left arm, your injured one.

You show her the burn. "It will heal, thanks for asking."

"What will heal?" Russel enters and starts getting his plate of food.

"My arm. Burnt it just now."

He sets a water kettle on the still-lit stove. "How bad?"

"Second degree, I think." You remove the towel to show him.

He grimaces. "Great way to wake up in the morning. Joe?"

"Who's Joe?"

Russel broke out into a sly grin. "Joe Mama. But a cup of joe, coffee?"

"BOO! Russel, boo. I can't believe I fell for that." You accept his consolation prize and he makes coffee for both of you. Noodle reaches for one, but Russel lightly smacks her hand away. "None 'til you're older."

Noodle lets out a quick string of angry Japanese.

"Say all you want but ain't getting none of this 'til you're at least 15."

"I can't believe she is so young. She's the one who made breakfast. Plus, she already is so talented with the guitar!"

"And vocals." As soon as Russel says that, he blushes. "Pretend I never said that."

"She does vocals on the new album? Come on, Russel! You can't just let that slip and not answer my questions!!"

"Can and will. Ey Noodle, Where's your napkin?"

Noodle paused in the middle of wiping her maple syrup on her sleeve. Russel sighed and got her a napkin. "You were saying about her maturity?"

You both share a laugh. "When do you think this storm will end?" You ask Russel.

"Dunno. It's always storming over Kong, at least."

"Do you like it here?"

"Don't hate it. I do enjoy makin music, but the whole kidnapped thing wasn't ideal." You both chuckled again.

"Yeah, I bet. I'm going to be having nightmares of Murdoc kidnapping me now."

"Murdoc doing anything is highly unlikely" Russel's deep laughter boomed throughout the room.

"Oi! I do stuff! I do lots of stuff." Murdoc wiggled his eyebrows. He takes the rest of the food.

"Hey! Leave some for 2D!" You protest.

"If the faceache wanted some, he should have woken up earlier." He sneered back, drenching his plate of pancakes in syrup and fried potatoes with ketchup. He poured the rest of the coffee for himself. There was too much for one cup, so he got out two mugs, filled both, and drank from both. What an asshole.

You looked at your own plate. You were too busy tending to your arm and talking to Russel to really eat anything, aside from a piece of potato. You were starving from not having any dinner. But you were the reason 2D stayed up and therefore didn't get up on time. You sighed and took your plate downstairs. "Thanks again for breakfast, Noodle!" You call behind you.

You set the food on the floor so you could knock on the door. Like a poor replay of last night, you had to knock again louder. Frustrated, you shout "2D!" You hear movement on the other side of the door and pick up the food.

"Ah!" A loud thump proceeds the opening of his door and you see him rubbing his chin as he opens it for you.

"You alright?"

"Yeah, I jus tripped. Can't really see well at night. Although I guess it mornin now innit?" He rubbed the sleep out of his eyes and stepped out of the way for you to join him, relighting the candle from last night. "Oh! Yew brought me breakfast? I'm starvin. Wouldda fought that Murdoc ate it all before I got any."

"He kinda did" You admit sheepishly.

"But then how'd yew get dis?" He sat on his bright yellow chair and started to eat vigorously.

"A magician never reveals their secrets."

"YEW DO MAGIC?"

"No D, it's an idiom." He looked confused. "Like raining cats and dogs?"

He swallowed his bite before speaking: "That doesn seem safe."

As you're about to laugh, your stomach starts to growl, causing you to turn bright red.

2D frowns. "This was yours?" You nod. "Well, now yew gotta take some. Yew didn efen 'ave dinna!"

"Nah, 2D it's yours, come on you said you were starving!"

"Eh, don tell 'er I said so, but Noodle's cookin can be off. I don like fese potatoes anyway, would yew-"

"Yes." You sit on the ground by him and he hands you what's left of them. You both sit in companionable silence. Normally, you observe everything as information for your articles, but here, there is nothing to record. Eating is a very intimate act. It's private. It leaves you vulnerable. One does not eat comfortably with strangers. There is an inherent agreement made when eating, a promise of safety and companionship. You don't think 2D values this moment as much as you do, you were waxing poetic while he sticks his tongue out as he struggles to cut a part of his pancake. Even though his struggles may suggest otherwise, he is meticulous while eating, taking extra caution to not allow any syrup to drip while he eats.

"Yew still 'ungry?" He nodded towards your empty plate. "Cuz yew'fe been lookin at me eat, and there's plenty pancake left."

"No, uh, I'll live." You flush, you keep forgetting about his eyes.

"Good! Wouldn't want yew dyin." He grins, showing off his missing teeth. You look around his room while he finishes. It wasn't exactly a mess, but it was not orderly. Clothes littered the floor, but the room felt lived in and as homey as a basement could get.

"Do you like living in the basement?" You ask him as he collects the plates into a stack.

"Didn't 'ave much of a choice. Murdoc put me 'ere before Russ n Noodle showed up. Gets a bit drafty fough."

This would be nice for your article. "Was this even a room initially? Or did Murdoc just put up a wall?"

"I dunno. I fink 'e jus put somefin up since I can see ofer dis wall 'ere if I get up 'igh enough." He opens his door and takes the plates with him. "Can yew blow out the candle? I don wanna bring it upstairs since Murdoc would probably take it for 'imself. Yew can grab onto the back of me shirt if you need 'elp navigatin. Not that I can see where I'm goin eifer."

You do ask he asks and grab onto his yellow tee. "I would offa yew me 'and, but..."

"They're full. Don't worry, this is helping loads."

He just hums in response as he leads you up the stairs, through the carpark, and up more stairs to the kitchen. When you finally reach the kitchen, your hand still holding the warm material of 2D's shirt. Russel hears you two enter and looks above the book he was reading --Wuthering Heights-- to raise an eyebrow at your position which must have looked a lot more suggestive than it actually was. You were in the basement alone with 2D for an hour at least and as an investigative journalist, you could understand better than anyone why it looked suspicious. You deeply flush, feeling the heat reach the tips of your ears. 2D apparently did not catch Russel's expression, leading you to the sink, where he washed the plates while you still held onto him. You didn't need to, you could see just fine now.

Russel sniggered, "I guess your arm's feeling better now, huh?" His sly smile hinting that he thinks he knows, incorrectly as it may be, why you are suddenly so close to 2D.

"Your arm's 'urtin?! Why didn yew say anyfin last night?" 2D turns towards you frantically, grabbing the arm that was holding his shirt, turning it around, trying to find the injury.

"Last night? Damn." Russel is chuckling on the couch, shaking his head. "2D, you have been ploughing through too many girls recently."

This piqued your interest. A new development for your article.

"I'm- I'm- I'm strugglin Russ, yew know dis. Besides, we didn efen do anyfin! We jus watched Dawn of the Dead!" He shakes his head vigorously, waving his arms.

"It starts with Dawn of the Dead..."

"ANYWAY! 'ow did yew 'urt your arm?" 2D harshly changes the subject, Russel fully laughing at this point.

You barely manage to mumble: "Burnt it." Russel's teasing really embarrassed you.

"On the candle?" He still looked so concerned, as if he was the one to hurt you.

"This morning. Not your fault, D." He visibly relaxed at that.

"Plus, it's this arm." You held up your left arm, the angry, sickly yellow blister facing him.

"'ow could I 'ave missed this! Oi, love, why 'aven't yew bandaged this? Does it 'urt still? Did yew put ointment on it?"

"Yo, 2D, chill, let her breathe!" Russel shouted from across the room.

2D flinched in surprise. "Sorry."

You smile and giggle, their concern for you was so cute. "I'm fine. It hurts to move and if anything touches it, it's agony, but really no need to fret."

"We keep a first aid kit in the studio because of, uh, Murdoc. I can patch yew up." He takes your uninjured hand and leads you down to the ground floor and into a cluttered studio. You grimaced at the pelt on the floor.

2D noticed your refusal to step on it. "Yeah, 'm not a big fan of it meself." He digs through a discarded box. "'ere's the kit! Come 'ere, I'll make yew feel be'er."

He rifles through the extensive kit, packed with anything an EMT team may need, including a mini lamp, which he turns on. "Oh! 'ere it is! Alooe Veera soofin cream!" He terribly mispronounces the name. "'ere are some bandages too, I'll wrap yew up afta."

You sat by his side on the floor as he tenderly took your injured arm and inspected it. "I fink dis may scar."

"If it does, then I'll always have something to remember this by. Plus, Noodle would feel so guilty, I'd probably get tickets to all of your concerts." You joke, but 2D's concern didn't seem to waver.

He laid it on his lap while he put some cream on his fingers. "Dis may 'urt a wee bit." He started on the outside of your burn, gently rubbing in the cream, the soothing lotion and soft touches caused you to sigh and relax into 2D's shoulder. Again, he smelled of cigarettes and cedar and his vanilla-scented candle still lingered in his shirt. He was bony so that you could feel his shoulder blade and clavicle, but it was not uncomfortable in the slightest. You could feel his muscles move as he tended to you and if this continued any longer, you would have fallen asleep.

He brushes against the blister unexpectedly and you yelp, yanking back your arm. "I need you to stay still, love." You grumble and tuck your head back into his shoulder, relaxing into him again. He continues with the cream, taking extra care with the blister, pausing when you sharply inhale. "I'll bandage yew up right proper, I will." He whispers, mainly to himself.

As soon as the rough gauze touches your blister, you whimper. "Jus stay good for a few more minutes, yeah?"

"This is hurting more than the actual burn."

"Sorry, love. Uh, lemme know if dis is too tight or loose." He begins to wrap the bandage around your forearm.

"Tighter, please." He pauses and tries again.

"Tighter." He tugs on them even harder.

"Tighter."

"Tighter."

"Yew sure? I fink your fingers are turnin red." He was right, they were showing signs of lack of blood flow.

"Please, D? I don't want it to come undone and have to do this again."

He follows your wishes and finishes tieing it up with a bow. "There, all done! If it still 'urts bad, I could give yew some of me painkillers?"

"I could do with some ibuprofen maybe. What do you have?"

"Perscriptions. Nefer wifout em!" His smile didn't quite reach his eyes and you could tell that it was just a cover. You give him a sympathetic smile, you couldn't blame him for being addicted. His smile falls. "Yew won't put that in your article, will yew?"

"Of course not, D! Nothing without your permission gets published, I'll even send you my rough draft for you to OK." You stand up and reach out your good arm to help him up too.

He is lighter than you expected as you yank him up beside you. "Yew don 'ave to do that. I doubt I could efen understand what yew write."

"Oh please, you're very intelligent!"

"Not since I fell on me 'ead, I 'aven't been." He deeply sighs. Then, he shakes his head. "Well, dis is where the magic 'appens! I could give yew a tour?"

You follow his lead and decide to stop talking about his past, but that doesn't mean you have to stop wondering what made this ray of sunshine so sad. He takes you around the space, explaining what each machine does and how it was used on the EP, sometimes complaining how one of them didn't work properly or how it didn't make it into the final versions of the songs. When you reach the keyboards, he practically glows when talking about them, their names (yes, he named his keyboards), which sounds are unique to each, and which ones are the stubborn ones. "Dis one 'as a very stiff F4, could nefer play that note." He pulls down his favourite from the shelf and plays "The Entertainer" beautifully. It would have rude to not applaud.

"And that's the recording boof. I don quite like 'ow claustrophobic it makes me. The sound spikes are scary, too. No good memories in there." He takes the lamp with him as he walks to the door. He holds out his hand for you to take, even though you can see where you are going now. But who are you to say no?

You reach out to take his hand, his being quite a bit bigger than yours. He leads you out the door and through the winding hallways of Kong. Even with his lamp, the place still reminds you a bit of a maze. You hear Russel's deep timbre coming down the kitchen's stairs and you remembered your interaction with him earlier and wondered how it would have been if he'd seen how you still held 2D's hand. 2D led you back down the stairs, through the car park, and down the stairs again. with each step the two of you took down, the darker the space around you got. That was the cons of a basement, you supposed. Once you were both back in his room, he placed the lamp over on a desk.

"Okay, ibuprofen right? I fink I got somethin like tha."

He let go of your hand to open the drawer at his desk, revealing many, many, bottles of pills. You tried to pretend you weren't looking over his shoulder at them all, but you were pretty sure he knew you were. He didn't address it, instead pulling out a specific bottle and pushing the door shut. He held it up close in front of his face, and you watched as he squinted just slightly to read the label.

"'ere we go! Dis should work."

He popped the top of the bottle and dumped quite a large amount on his hand before holding it out to you. You stared for a moment at the pile of pills in his hand before reaching out and grabbing just 2. He blinked, and slowly put the rest of the pills back in the bottle, then dropped it back in the drawer.

"Thanks, 2D. This'll help loads." You smiled up at him. He just smiled back.

You took both pills, faced with the fact you had no water to swallow them down with. It wasn't the biggest deal, but you never were good at swallowing pills, so the bitter medicine dissolved slightly on your tongue before it was gone.

"Blegh." you stuck your tongue out and scrunched your face up, that bitter taste causing you to cringe. You heard 2D laugh at your reaction. "Hey! Rude." You said, but you were smiling too.

"Sorry," he laughed a little again, "Les go get you somfin to drink, yeah?"

"Um, yeah. please."

He starts to lead you back to the kitchen. Your whole time at Kong has been dealing with these blasted stairs. "What yew want to drink?" 2D asks as you reach the car park.

"Got any more soda from last night?"

"No, fresh out, Noodle finished it while yew were asleep."

"Juice?"

"Yeah! We may 'ave some Orange Juice left."

"If it was in the fridge it would have gone bad by now because of the power."

2D sighed. "Then all we gots is water and Murdoc's alcohol supply." You were about to go up the stairs to the kitchen and pause.

"You know any good cocktails, D?" You smiled slyly. Sure, it may only be after lunchtime, but with the clocks out, who really knows what time it is.

"I normally jus drink straight from the bottle." His smile returns your energy, so you turn around and start heading to the Winnebago.

The air starts to turn sour, and you could feel it sticking to your face. When you inhale, it burns your nose and stays in the back of your throat. The stench of death and rot. Of alcohol, sweat, weed, and sex. Of an overuse of Axe bodyspray. You didn't think you would see a grown man cry today, but as you two approached the Winnebago, 2D's eyes watered in a way that could only be described as a constant stream of tears.

"What happened here? Do you think Murdoc's okay?" As you open your mouth to speak, you could feel the stench seep in and can almost taste the putridness.

2D coughed "'e's probably more than okay." He knocked on the flimsy door.

The opening of the door unleashed a plume of stank upon you and 2D. You were expecting Murdoc to greet you, but your eyes lowered until they saw what you could only describe as a zombie in a maid outfit. That was definitely making the article. It gurgled and turned away. A second later, Murdoc appeared, topless. "Hey, Love! Finally come to your sense, eh?" He saw 2D and grumbled, "Ah, why'd you bring dents for eyes? I promised myself I wouldn't make that dream a reality. Besides, my bed's only got room for two." Murdoc leered at you, outlining your body with his eyes. 2D coughed and stood in front of you, causing Murdoc to lean back and cross his arms. "You're blocking her view of all this." He gestured to himself.

"Not to dis one, Murdoc. Not again. We're only 'ere for your booze." His hands balled into fists. You didn't need 2D to speak to Murdoc for you, but you sense something deeper going on here.

Murdoc turned for a sec and grabbed a bottle behind him. "Here you go, Face Ache. It's weak enough for you to stomach, lightweight. And if she," He points at you, "comes to me begging for a shag, later on, then we will both know that you're the issue."

2D takes the bottle and mumbles bastard under his breath. Murdoc leans against the doorframe and grins, cockily, watching you leave. The farther you get away from the Winnebago, the clearer the air looks. "Ah, I can feel my nose again! That stank, right D?"

"Yeah, wha'ever." He didn't look at you, his head tilted down so you guessed he was looking at the floor. He was hunched over and held the alcohol with white knuckles.

"You okay, 2D?" You put your hand on his shoulder.

He shrugged you off. "I jus wanna down dis bottle and forget everyfin 'til tomorrow at least."

You follow him silently back to his room, straying behind so that you were barely within the light from 2D's lamp. He disappeared through the door, leaving you in the dark as you fumbled down the last steps. You find him flopped face down onto the bed, his arms and legs splayed across the whole mattress. You gingerly pick up one of his legs and move it so you can sit on the bed beside him.

"You know I would never sleep with Murdoc, right?"

2D grumbled and opened the bottle, taking a huge swing, not fazed at all. He passed it over to you and you read the label. It was named Satan's Piss and had a cartoon devil on the front. Its main feature was its ABV of 50%, 10% more than vodka. You take a considerably smaller sip and cough, cringing at the strength, causing 2D to snort. At least one of you is getting something out of this.

"Wouldn't be the first time someone's left me for 'im." 2D pulled his limbs in a rolled over so that his stomach was touching your back, his legs close to your side. He leaned on one elbow, purposefully not looking at you. You turned slightly so you could watch him. "I don fink I could efer forgive Murdoc for what 'e did. I 'ad a bird and she and I were togefer efen before I lost me eyes, which I also 'ate Murdoc for, but that's a different story. Dis bird 'elped me frough me recovery and efen joined the band after I became the singer. The guitarist before Noodle." He paused and reached out for the bottle, which you handed to him. He took another huge drink and use wiping his mouth as an excuse to rub his eyes as well. "Well, anyway, Russ found 'er one day in the toilets wif Murdoc, givin 'im a blow job. 'e broke Murdoc's nose, that's why it looks so screwed up." He chuckled a little at that and took another drink. "After that, I tried to use other girls as a way of lessenin the pain. It's what Russel was talkin about in the kitchen. I actually 'ad plans wif a bird for this weekend, but well." He sheepishly looked up at you. "I 'ad dated Rachel Stevens for a bit, but Murdoc scared 'er off. Not the first time it's 'appened eifer. 'e's ruined everyfin for me recently." He ended his speech by finishing half of the bottle and handing it back to you.

"Oh, D. I'm so sorry. Paula, she didn't deserve you." You put your uninjured hand on his shoulder and he looked up at you. From the light of the lantern, you could see that his face was wet.

"She said it was me fault she got wif Murdoc. That she was tired of dealin wif me in me comatose state and that I was too fick efen after I came too. And I know I should blame 'er, but I just can't bring meself to 'ating 'er. I loved 'er, you know? Loved 'er proper." As he was speaking, staring at his hands, you drank some of the alcohol, it really starting to affect you.

Your hand started to move up from his shoulder to his hair, slowly running your fingers through the blue. It looked so pointy, you expected it to be brittle with hair gel or something, but his hair was so smooth and soft, albeit a bit messy. When you touched it, he flinched, but as you continued to brush your hand through, he relaxed and moved into the touch. You didn't stop combing through his hair, loving the way the blue fluff would part on your behalf. As you pet his hair, you could feel him begin to cry, his face in his hands, his shoulders heaving, his breathing unsteady. You heard sniffles and choked whimpers, so you made an effort to prevent any stray hairs from falling onto his face, lest it gets wet. You tasted alcohol as you drank some more to distract you from crying too: 2D didn't need that right now. All you saw was a defeated, broken boy who needed so much more love than anyone could give him.

You put the bottle on the floor and lifted 2D by his shoulders with your good arm, pulling him up into a sitting position with you. He didn't complain, only removed his hands from his black eyes, revealing them to be overflowing with tears and had a vague look of confusion. Then you hugged him, pulling his body close, feeling the heat of him through his clothes, hurting when his ribs would expand only to push out the air as a muffled cry. As if you two had done this a thousand times before, he tucked his head into your neck and it fits perfectly. His hair tickled your face and you continued to run your fingers through it. "It's alright. I'm here. I won't let you go." You whispered repeatedly while your friend conveyed every once of his devastation in tears.

After he calmed a little, he lifted his face from your neck. You could feel how wet it was from his tears and snot, but you didn't really mind. You stopped touching his hair, instead you cupped his cheek with your hand, brushing away stray tears with your thumb.

"S-sorry," He hiccuped, "for crying on yew." He looked up at you, his empty eyes rimmed red and you lost some part of yourself to him then.

You continued to stroke his cheek. "Sh, don't apologize, you're perfect."

His arm that used to lay limply over your shoulder while you were comforting him moved slowly, until it rested at the nape of your neck, tangling itself into your hair. He searched your face for any signs of opposition, but upon receiving none, he pulled your lips to his.

You have never had a worse headache or case of cottonmouth. Luckily it was still night, the noises of nocturnal life just outside, so you didn't have to bother with bright lights. You started to stir, but couldn't move half of your body. Looking over, you saw that 2D had wrapped his arms around your unburnt arm and that one of his long legs hooked around you, essentially trapping you. Had you fallen asleep like this? "Please be wearing clothes, please," You whisper. You saw that you were both fully clothed and let out a sigh of relief. You couldn't remember for the life of you what may have caused this. The last thing you could recall was Paula, the bitch.

#2d gorillaz #2d stuart pot #2d x reader #gorillaz #2d fanfiction #gorillaz fanfiction #gorillaz fandom #stuart pot x reader

[chainofclovers]

This Way Up season 2 thoughts and feelings

We finished watching the second season of This Way Up last night (watched it in two sittings over Friday and Saturday) and I liked it a lot more than I thought I would though the season did feel uneven at times. The story also made me feel incredibly, incredibly sad, and my brain is so cluttered with thoughts that I'm not sure I'll be able to actually make sense of the show if I don't just go on and share my impressions, as scattered, self-indulgent, and based on the limited memory of a single viewing as they are.

Where was I when I was watching this season of television?

Physically, I was on the couch with my wife, repeatedly remembering and forgetting that the Olympics were happening. And so, interspersed with this deep dive into the mental health and personal and professional challenges of London-based Irish sisters Áine and Shona, I experienced some archery, skateboarding (those bros honestly seem tooooo cool to even want to come to something as embarrassingly earnest as the Olympics, but good for them!), and men's gymnastics.

Mentally, I was contemplating some significant professional (and, yes, personal in their way) life events that are neither here nor there for tumblr dot com. I was also considering the season two premiere of Ted Lasso and my fannish relationship to that show. For it is true--the person I was while watching season 1 of This Way Up is not the same person who watched season 2 this weekend, because in the meantime a 45-year old white man from Kansas (and every person he knows) managed to become my primary media preoccupation, and I am surprisingly chill about how not chill I am about this anxiety-ridden ray of sunshine/football coach (both footballs). But as we all know, being chill does not mean feeling chill. That make sense?

Anyway. This Way Up. It's about to become a mess of spoilers and feelings in here, so venture behind the cut if you dare!

For Obvious Queer Reasons I was extremely curious to find out what happens between Shona and Charlotte and Shona and Vish. As such, while it was uncomfortable to watch, I think my favorite scene in the whole season is when Shona and Vish have video chat sex and Shona has this intrusive memory of sleeping with Charlotte that feels like the ONLY moment in the entire season that she isn't performing or editing herself in some way.

My other favorite moment is when Charlotte talks about how upsetting it is to feel like a "lesson learned" chapter in Shona's autobiography.

I cannot believe I'm about to type these words, but I think the writing on this show might actually put too much trust in viewers to pick up on things. I know, this never happens! This is my dream! Why am I typing this? But hear me out. I think there are a lot of interesting parallels in terms of whether Shona and Vish (established, engaged, committed) and Áine and Richard (new, taboo [but is it really that crazy that she ends up dating the dad of someone she tutors?], exploratory) are truly able to listen to each other and accept each other's needs. It's about honesty or lack thereof, and it's also about what's really happening inside someone's mind. It's such an incredible moment when Richard tells Áine he likes that she's always so "up" and she has this private moment where you can see this heartbreak in her eyes because of course we know that she really struggles with her mental health and with depression. And I like that the show has both Bradley and Charlotte in the position of being on the overlapping outside of those relationships, offering their own wisdom from a place of really, really caring about Áine and Shona. But I just wanted MORE of that. This episodes are so short, and I needed there to be more of a tight story about those parallels, more of a sense that we'd hurtle towards some kind of revelation by episode 6.

I realize this is a thing about UK shows, but these seasons are just too short. The episodes are like 24 minutes long and there are only six of them and I felt that while you could create an effective season of TV with those constraints, this season jumped between scenes too frequently. I wanted to live in the scenes for longer. I didn't want to feel like I was watching the editing and decisions about what to show happen before my eyes.

If season 3 happens, my second biggest dream is that Bradley and Áine can have a conversation following up from the observation that it would be nice to be with someone they're just comfortable with (spoken while they're slumped on the couch together having one of the warmest conversations two characters share all season). My biggest dream is that Shona and Charlotte can have a respectful conversation about how Shona defines her sexuality. I want Shona to be safe explaining if she'd want to use the term bisexual or queer or pan or even lesbian or some combination of those terms. Not because the labels are the most useful thing, but because in this case it would be incredibly useful for her to force herself to choose some words, not in the context of feeling Vish-related pressure. To be brave enough to describe herself, and to be safe enough to know that Charlotte isn't going to make some snide comment about men. It's totally fair that Charlotte is so hurt, but she needs to be able to listen, too.

I do think this season does an incredible job capturing Shona's intense ambivalence about herself, and how she is SCRAMBLING to deflect from that by focusing on her sister, work, family, wedding-planning, the hen do, basically anything but dealing with her own little brain and heart. I mean, when COVID starts to arrive in their lives, it feels like she really wants Vish's asthmatic uncle to be the golden ticket they need to call off the wedding.

I have mixed feelings about how frequently Áine references the feeling of being an actor or the feeling of experiencing things as someone might in a movie or show or the feeling that someone else is treating her as an actor or character rather than as a real person. I think it's an interesting thing to write about, but upon first watch I struggled to figure out if it was a commentary on the other parts of the story or an additional thread Aisling Bea wanted to weave into an already incredibly short season of TV.

It was very jarring to have a COVID plot. The only mainstream media I've seen so far with a COVID plot is--LOL (to quote Áine, who says LOL so many times this season)--the final scene of the Saved By the Bell remake. Again I say LOL!!! I didn't hate it or love it, necessarily, I just thought it felt strange because we're still in the pandemic and everything is strange.

Everything with Tom was so, so, so painful. I don't know if I can even get into it. I just felt visceral devastation and was hurtled into strong memories about people in my own life who died prematurely. (Suicide but not only suicide.) The way the last scene ended felt like--immediate tears just pulled from my eyes without me even realizing what was happening. And God, the way Tom-in-the-flashback calls her a "soppy cunt" (I think?) and we realize Áine used those exact words to jokingly refer to Richard's previous girlfriend who was a human rights lawyer? GOD.

While Áine and Shona don't really engage with each other in the same way my sister and I do, my sister and I are also really, really close and I'm the older sister and watching this show always gives me a lot of emotions about siblings. This is actually part of why the rapid scene cuts and feeling that they both were leaving so much unarticulated stressed me out. Áine nails it at the end when Shona has finally told her about Charlotte and she says Shona needs to tell her more, but I wanted to SEE that conversation happen. I wanted to FEEL Áine's reaction, because Áine's reaction matters more than Vish's or their mother's or anyone else's. It was frustrating!

I dunno, y'all. I really love this show. I think it is exactly what it wants to be. I could not tell you today if I will ever rewatch it even though I (think I) still consider it a favorite. I honor and respect the fundamental messiness and pain and hilarity of this show. What a wild experience.

#this way up #this way up spoilers #meta by me #cw suicide #about me #this is all over the place but then again I am all over the place

[tiny-smallest]

day one - pride

Rating: G Characters: Henry and Bendy Warnings: none Description: Henry reflects on the definition of labels and belonging in certain spaces.

Also on AO3!

---

WHO'S READY FOR THE INK DEMONTH 2021 I SURE ONCE AGAIN TOTALLY WAS YEP DEFINITELY NO LAST MINUTE ANYTHING HERE LET'S GO

Doing writing prompts again because this year has been A Lifetime and I just don't possess the ability to draw this time so let's go let's get stupid get weird enjoy the misadventures of a specific au of of Bendy and the Ink Machine where the toons are their own people in a world they still don't entirely understand and the people who love them who try to help them navigate it.

---

Henry was used to a surprising amount of things to interrupt his day first thing in the morning. Easily numbered in the hundreds. His children were toons; there was no end to the amount of crazy nonsense that they could get into when he was asleep, and that was disregarding the fact that Bendy usually slept until noon.

Sure, he was the Troublemaker In Chief. That did not mean the other two were paragons of holiness, no matter how much Alice tried glowing her halo at him while she and her brother gave him the saddest, biggest, shiniest puppy eyes. And that didn't even take into account how much trouble they could find, no mischief intended.

He'd seen smoldering breakfasts, pancakes on the ceiling, saran wrap around the kitchen archway, demonic rubber chicken noises from a saxophone that had a part replaced with the noisemaker from the novelty prank toy...

(He still didn't regret letting Boris chase Bendy for that one without intervening.)

With all that, being immediately accosted by three toons hanging off his legs the second he came down the stairs and all trying to talk to him at the same time did not magically get any easier to withstand.

"Whatever it is, it's a no until I get my coffee," he drawled as he attempted to walk with them hanging off him, the three of them dragged along with him. It was with quite some difficulty that he got to the kitchen counter.

"But Henry!" Bendy whined, "we only got a few hours to get ready if ya say yes! We need every second!"

"For what?" he yawned, pouring a cup from the machine.

"You don't know what day it is?" Alice was surprised enough to actually let go, and she dusted herself off like the lady she was before standing up.

Instantly something cold grabbed Henry's heart and squeezed. "Uh- no I...?"

Had he forgotten someone's birthday? No, it was summertime; Bendy was a winter 'birth' and Boris and Alice were spring and fall. An anniversary of some kind? Quick think what are you forgetting you useless-

"How!?" Bendy gaped at him from down below. "It's been all over the news fer weeks!"

Well okay now he was just thoroughly confused. "I um-"

"The parade, Henry!" Boris's tail was thumping gently against the floor; he was not trying one tiny ounce to hide his eagerness. "The parade that's today!"

"Parade-?" It took just one more nanosecond of thought before it clicked.

"Oh you mean the-!" And they wanted to go to it.

Well, he shouldn't be surprised. This would be the first parade they'd get to see, wouldn't it? And it was nice weather out. And it would be bursting with color, which the toons were darn near obsessed with.

He took a contemplative sip. They weren't human; god even knew if they had any sort of sexuality at all. Could they even feel that stuff? The urge to- do anything like that? Wouldn't that technically make them asexual? That was the word, right?

Well, human or not, that would solidly mean they belonged there. Queer was queer, regardless of species, right? Hell, even if they'd just started asking themselves those questions, or wanted to support the fans of theirs who fell under that giant umbrella, they were valid for being there.

"Sure, I can take you."

Both boys cheered, lifting their arms to do so and releasing his legs. He quickly took a step away from them, but their joy had them leaping to their feet anyway and he watched as they bounced around the kitchen, slowly draining his coffee and trying to curb his smile when he was actively drinking.

It was a hard task.

Their excited chatter melted pleasantly into the background as he took the time to drink and try to shake his brain awake the rest of the way awake like shaking out an old blanket to coax out the wrinkles. Their enthusiasm always made for the perfect background noise.

"What colors do you want?"

"I dunno! There's so many! I don' even know what label I fit in-"

"I saw you checkin' out that guy the other day don't think I didn't!" The wink and nudge from Bendy sent Boris blushing so hard the poor wolf's face turned nearly as black as his fur.

"I was hopin' you hadn't-"

They were all quick to consume breakfast, and Henry retreated upstairs after telling the toons to come get him when they wanted to leave.

He settled comfortably in the limitless, timeless space of art before reality came knocking with Bendy's distinctive tapping at the door, pulling Henry from the space inbetween something and nothing as he set his pen aside. "Come in, kiddo."

When Bendy stepped in with what was unmistakably a rainbow flag on his cheek and extra face paint he knew he was in for a time.

"Oh uh- what's that for-"

"For you!" Bendy said with a giant grin. "Who'd ya think?"

He rubbed the back of his neck. "Ah well- I uh-"

Bendy didn't slow down. "Anyway the others are about ready to go but they sent me up here to get your flag on while they finish up- now why they trusted me with the paint I got about as much an idea as you but hey I'm not gonna complain-"

"Aw that's- that's sweet kiddo but I sorta figured I'd just be-" How to say this. "Dropping you off...?"

Immediate confusion. "What? Why?"

"Uh well- I mean-" He fiddled with the pen- when had that ended up back in his hands? "You guys- you have a space there, you know? I'm not sure if I-"

There was now a puckered frown on the little devil's face. "Not sure if you what?"

"Well I mean- I don't exactly- belong, now do I?"

The frown multiplied its intensity by about five. "What's that supposed to mean?"

Aw jeez. He really did not want to discuss this with his kid, as much of an adult as Bendy was. For many reasons. "Uh well- you know-" He gestured, as if hoping that would somehow pluck the answer from the air and implant it in Bendy's brain without having to give voice to it, setting the pen down in the process so he’d stop playing with it. "I'm not exactly- I mean-"

"You like guys." Bendy's voice was so sure that Henry knew making any sort of denial was futile. And also kind of stupid. Why would he deny that to his own son? No of course he wouldn't.

"Well I mean- I married a woman, didn't I?" he finally blurted out.

Unimpressed blinking as he drew closer to stand beside the desk. "Yeah they got a word for that. Several actually. Most popular ones are bi and pan, so which colors is it gonna be?"

"No no I mean-" God he was probably blushing. His face definitely felt way too hot. "I uh- I mean I- I like guys, yes-" great brain thanks a ton totally needed that heart rate spiking why are you acting like that's scary this is our kid- "but I- I married a woman- I like women- more often?"

The blinking was now confused.

"Uh-" How to phrase this. "If- if we split it into a pie chart- it's probably like... thirty-seventy in favor of women?" He ran his fingers through his hair and down the back of his neck again. "I'm- not that I'm any great catch but like, if I was in any way qualified to be in the dating pool again, I'd be way more likely to end up with a lady."

The unimpressed look was back. "And?"

It was Henry's look to be surprised. "And- and that means that, you know- I'm not really-"

"You like guys."

"I- yeah?"

"And you're a guy."

"Kind of a given at this point."

"So you're a guy, and you like guys, and just also happen to like girls too. We got names for that." He gave Henry's shirt an appraising look. "Gotta say the bi colors would complement your clothes best. If you want pan colors I'm gonna have to ask you to change. As your official fashion consultant."

Henry snorted. "My what?"

"Listen Dad I love you but I ain't about to let you walk into that parade wearing like, a pineapple hawaiian shirt or nothin'."

Henry banged a fist lightly on the table and pointed at him. "Liar! You wore the exact same thing just the other day!"

"Yeah but that was to the beach, not a parade."

"Literally when have you ever cared about not being a fashion disaster."

"This time, when Alice'll actually kill me otherwise."

"... Okay you got me there."

Bendy grinned. "So, bi colors or pan colors! Or somethin' else? I think there's other ones too."

He opened his mouth, closed it again and then opened it. What the hell. "... Bi colors, I guess."

"Yesssssss I was hopin' you'd say that." He hopped over onto the table like he'd suddenly become a bunny.

"Oh you were, huh?"

"Listen, the pan folks got pretty colors, but I'm always a sucker for a sunset," he said as he pulled out the pallet he needed. Henry sighed and shook his head, the smile ruining his effort to look exasperated.

"Well. Sunset me then, I guess."

"You got it boss!" Bendy said in maybe the worst mafia minion accent known to mankind.

It was barely five minutes of Bendy painting lines carefully on his cheek before he whipped out a mirror.

"Tah-dah!"

Henry blinked at himself in the mirror. He tilted his head, something shifting inside his heart that he had no name for, no way to voice.

The once proud look on Bendy's face was swiftly dropping. "... I didn't mess it up, did I...?"

"No- no, no." Henry tilted his head. "I uh..."

Bendy's worried browlines screamed anxiety to him.

"... I guess I just look good in a sunset," he said quietly, seeing the little corner of his reflection's mouth turn up as if in some sort of hazy dream.

Better than I thought.

#bendy and the ink machine #the ink demonth #batim bendy #batim henry #batim boris #batim alice angel #henry stein #batim henry stein #strike up the band au #my writing

[lab-trash]

Anything for You

Yoo, Chapter 7 is up

You can also read it here tho

A week or so had passed. Kaz still hadn’t texted Kris.

Chase and Kaz found time to be alone together in their bedroom. Mostly when Oliver was out trying to find a new obsession. At least he was trying to move on, which was good. He’d thrown out all of his creepy Skylar stuff, although he did keep many limited edition action figures and comics. 

Chase and Kaz would spend time in Kaz’s bed, usually cuddling, exchanging short kisses, and reading their personal content; textbooks and comics.

On this particular day, Kaz randomly shut his comic in the middle of reading and tossed it away.

“I’m thinking of coming out,” He said, “To, uh, my sibling, Kris.” Chase marked his book.

“That’s the drag queen, right?”

“Yeah,” Kaz said, “They’re genderfluid and pan… I dunno, figured maybe I could talk to someone. But I wanted your permission, because if I came out, I’d definitely spend at least ten minutes talking about how cute you are and how much I love you,” He said. He kissed Chase’s cheek as he started speaking.

“Well, it’s your family,” Chase said as Kaz moved down to Chase’s neck “A-and as long as they don’t, like, tell the world, I suppose that would be alright— Kaz, y-you can’t leave any marks, you know this,” He said, although he was holding Kaz’s head close to his neck, humming happily at his boyfriend’s affection.

“I know,” Kaz said, “Not where anyone can see,” He said quietly, making Chase shiver. 

“A-Anyway, you can tell your sibling, i-if you want,” He stuttered, “I understand if talking to someone a-about your s-sexuality, who i-isn’t me, would be good for you,” He said, leaning his head back. 

“Mhm,” Kaz said in return, although he was only partially paying attention.

“You…” Suddenly a strange feeling spiked through Chase. Like the buzzing feeling all concentrated, shooting under Chase’s skin, telling him something was about to happen. “Kaz, stop,” He said, making Kaz immediately pull away.

“Sorry,” He immediately apologised.

“No, no, I just…” The door opened to their room, revealing Mr Davenport in the flesh. “Knew something would happen,” He finished.

“Hey, spidey-senses!” Kaz exclaimed, holding out his hand for a high five. Chase smiled at his boyfriend, and although he didn’t love high fives, slapped his boyfriend’s hand as hard as he could. 

“Although, technically, it’s called danger intuition,” Chase said. 

“Well, I am quite dangerous,” Donald said ‘boastfully,’ tugging on the collar of his jacket. Kaz and Chase exchanged looks, knowing that the only reason that Mr Davenport was considered ‘dangerous,’ in that situation, was that they were trying to avoid being caught together.

“Anyway, Bree preferred to come out to the rest of our family in person, so Adam, Leo, Tasha and Niomi are here,” He said, probably far too casually. 

“What?” Chase asked, slightly stunned.

“And, this will give you the opportunity to show off your new superpowers,” Mr Davenport said, somewhat excitedly. Chase sighed. He was kind of fed up with the whole ‘Chase has powers and that’s a big deal’ thing. 

Sure, they were cool, but it felt strange. He had powers that  weren’t  bionics. They had no scientific explanation to how they existed. And Kaz had told him many times that if he caught him doing experiments on himself again, he’d find some way to take away his equipment.

“Might as well, I guess,” Chase said, his voice dull and flat, which seemed to concern Kaz a little bit. 

“Awesome! Be out soon,” Mr Davenport said before running back to the living room, only partially shutting the door behind him. 

“Hey, maybe you can get Adam to stop throwing you around if you show him that you have actual power now,” Kaz said, sitting up. Chase playfully raised an eyebrow.

“What do you mean  actual  power?” He asked, mostly joking. 

“Well, I mean,” Kaz started, realising his mistake, “You can’t really fight back with molecular kinesis,” He tried. Chase just nodded.

“Thanks, Azzy,” He said sarcastically. 

“You got it, Chase,” Kaz said with a small laugh. He kissed Chase’s cheek before getting up off the bed. 

His leg was doing better, which was good. He could walk better now. Didn’t need Chase teleporting him around everywhere

That’s not to say they didn’t do it anyway.

Kaz held out his hands to help Chase up, which he took, but just used to teleport to the living room, not even having to get up to sit on the couch. 

“Hey, guys,” Chase said tiredly as Kaz sat down next to him.

“Chase!” Leo exclaimed, “Did you get new bionics?” Chase shook his head.

“Nope,” He said simply.

“B-But…” Leo said, holding out his hands towards the couch confusedly. 

“I’m gonna get a water, you want one?” Chase asked Kaz. Kaz shrugged.

“Nah, I’m good,” He said, even though he was actually kind of thirsty. He just didn’t really see the point when he could drink water later. 

Chase got up while Leo looked after him, confused and baffled.

“But you— How did you— Bionics—”

“Oh, yeah,” Kaz said, “Chase has superpowers now,” He said, pointing back at his secret boyfriend. 

“What?!” Leo asked. Adam, Tasha and Bree entered from the terrace. “Did you guys know that Chase had superpowers now?” Adam just laughed. 

“No he doesn’t,” He said as Chase walked out from the kitchen. Chase sighed.

“I understand that you feel the need to throw me every time you see me, but can I put my water down first?” He asked tiredly. Adam shrugged. Chase walked over to the couch and put down two water bottles. “I got you one anyway,” He said quietly to Kaz, earning a loving smile. 

“Chase, do you have superpowers?” Adam asked in slight disbelief. 

“Oh, yeah,” he said casually. 

“Well, if you have superpowers, try and fight back against this,” He said, reaching for Chase’s sides.

“Adam…” He said halfheartedly. “Maybe don’t provoke me,” He said. Adam poked at his sides, earning about 30,000 volts of electricity straight to his chest out of pure involuntary defence. “Whoops,” He said with a small laugh before taking his seat back again on the couch.

Adam had collapsed on the ground, but was still conscious. 

“Okay, I guess maybe you have superpowers,” Adam said weakly. 

“That’s not what’s important though,” Chase said, not wanting to take away the attention from his sister.

“I dunno, Chase, that seems pretty important,” Leo said, somewhat excited, somewhat panicked. 

“It’s…” Chase just trailed off, sipping on his water. 

“I think what Chase is trying to say,” Kaz started, giving Chase room to stop him. “Is that it’s not the most important news we have,” He finished. Chase nodded. Leo rolled his eyes.

“What could be—”

“I’m pansexual,” Bree blurted out. “I like everyone. I mean, I  can  like everyone,” She awkwardly explained. Tasha gave a soft smile. 

“Oh, honey,” She said, “You know this doesn’t change anything, right; we still love you,” She said gently. Bree nodded.

“I know,” She said, “I was just really nervous.” Adam let out a light laugh.

“Why are you makin’ a big deal out of it?” he asked, “I mean, everyone likes everyone.” This got everyone’s attention.

“What?” Bree asked. 

“I mean, like, guys like girls and guys, girls like girls and guys. It’s nothin’ new,” He said casually. Bree laughed, somewhat nervous, someone genuine.

“Adam, most people are only attracted to one gender,” She said. “Like, Mr Davenport only likes women, and Tasha only likes men,” She sampled. “Do  you  like guys and girls?” She asked. Adam shrugged.

“Yeah,” He said, “It’d be weird if I didn’t,” He said with a laugh, making Bree confused.

“What do you mean?” She asked.

“Oh, right, you don’t know,” Tasha remembered, “Adam has a boyfriend.” Chase choked on his water and Adam’s face lit up.

“Goin’ on four months,” He said happily, fidgeting with his phone. 

“Oh,” Bree said plainly, “Well, had I known that, I wouldn’t have been so nervous,” She said with a small laugh. 

Kaz’s eyes ran over the happy family. Tasha had her hand on Bree’s shoulder in the most comforting way she could, at least while holding a baby, and Adam was smiling widely at his sister.

“I’m gonna go call my sibling,” Kaz said quietly to Chase before hopping up and walking to their bedroom. 

He anxiously dialled his sibling’s number, not even knowing if they’d pick up. 

And they didn’t. 

‘Hey, it’s Krissy, I’m kinda busy right now, so leave a message!’

They’d apparently been working on feminising their voice, because Kaz had barely recognised it. 

“Hey, Kris! Uh… I just wanted to talk to you about some stuff. Call me back if you’re able to I-It’s nothing bad, trust me. I mean, unless you’ve changed a  lot  since we last talked, then maybe… Anyway, call me back.”

#lab rats #lab rats elite force #mighty med #kase #chase x kaz #kaz #chase davenport #chaz #kaz x chase #kaz mm #anything for you #archive of my own

[emakenz]

SELF INDULGENT HANNIBAL X READER FANFICTION PROMPT

I do not know what this is, if it is a drabble or a prompt or short story, I have no clue. Just thoughts in my head. Storylines that are realistic within the canon of the show. I say self indulgent because it's sort of a self insert of myself, but whatever, I dunno. It's almost 7 AM. I would actually write this as a story or drabble or whatever but I don't have the drive, if I have a thought I gotta write it down right then or it disappears. If I wrote fanfics, they wouldn't make sense because my mind wanders so fucking much. I might still do this someday, I dunno, but if anyone wants a crack at it, be my guest. I encourage it, as I'd love to read this as an actual story rather than... what it is. But if you write it, ya gotta make sure you include the big details I write down. The small details like, the whole Jack thing, that's not too important unless you want to keep it for showing character and/or character development. And ya gotta credit and tag me because I'd love to read it, as it is my brain's own little bundle of ideas. Holy shit I'm writing so much here goddamn. Anyway.

. . .

Hannibal is reader's friend and he has an interest in reader. Reader is an artist, they work as a forensic artist for the bureau. They do what the usual forensic artist does, but they also like to draw the crime scenes. They have a fascination with recreating the work of a suspect, it can help them connect dots and understand the suspect's intentions and ideals of commiting the scene of the crime. Reader is kind of like Will, in a sense, as they are on the spectrum but, unlike Will, they are unaware of it. They are an empath, they view everything from different perspectives and try to understand each side, like Will. But you see, Will only looks into the suspects' minds, but reader looks into the suspects, the victims, and even the witnesses' views. Hannibal finds their insight to be valuable (for his own "hobbies", in his career, and just plain interest, of course).

Reader has trouble with Jack yelling at them for "talking back," though in reader's mind they didn't realize what they said could be considered rude, and this happens more often than not. They can't handle loud noises, and Jack's booming voice messes them up. They tend to avoid Jack because of this, as they usually have an internal meltdown and shut off when he blows up.

An example; reader was explaining how the victim of the killer in a specific scene wasn't really the victim, but that they were the actual killer. Will disagreed, as he views the suspected killer to be the actual killer. Because of Will's insistence that reader was wrong, Jack shut reader off mid sentence by interrupting their defense. Jack trusts Will's insight more than reader's because he's known him longer and Will's always been right, so far, and he didn't want to risk messing up. He didn't want to get the investigation incorrect so he didn't take the chance of listening to reader rather than Will.

(In this scenario, the killer is the victim in the scene, and the person that killed them was the killer's intended victim, but the victim they intended to kill was a serial killer as well -- the victim pulled the ol switcheroo on em. So both Will and reader are right. If this doesn't make sense, please let me know, I will try to elaborate more on this if you're actually interested.)

Jack and reader don't have a bad relationship or anything, it's just a lot of miscommunications and underlying issues (like the reader having undiagnosed autism, not being aware that they're socially impaired can, well, impair their work and relationships. Such as here.) Nobody really notices the odd behavior from reader, as Will is like that too, so they don't question it. They all assume it's already understood that reader is autistic.

Reader isn't like Will when it comes to being social, as they are more reserved (as odd as that is, MORE reserved than Will Graham himself?? It's more likely than you'd think.) and don't fidget around with stuff around them. They don't nose around, they keep to themselves, closed off from everyone and everything. Will likes to roam around Dr. Lecter's office and tinker with stuff in the room, but reader is too anxious and shy to do such. Reader hates it when people come into their space (like their room, even their property in general) and they especially don't like it when people nose around in their stuff. It feels rude to them, so they don't do it to others. They don't consider Will to be rude because he does it though, they only consider it rude when a person comes into their space and does it, as reader would make it clear that they don't feel comfortable with people doing such. They wouldn't want a person unknowingly seem rude to them, they would inform them beforehand, but if the person still does it, then that's rude to reader. Call it being territorial, reader is just cautious about their property.

If reader is in a conversation, and being asked questions about themself, they usually just give short and simple answers. They don't like to talk about theirself. And they especially don't like letting people know them well. They are very cautious about relationships. They don't want to get hurt. They have a major rejection sensitivity disorder. They hate that about themself.

It's not that reader is cut off from the world and dismissive of others, they do like to talk and joke around occasionally. They're sarcastic yet literal, depending on the topic of conversation. They just don't give more input than they believe necessary. They're more of a listener (by that I mean they space out when a person is excessively talking to them. They can only handle so much.).

Hannibal notices reader's quiet, timid behavior and wants them to find some release, therefore he engages in conversations with them, though it is hard for them to keep the conversation going, he still pushes. He wants them to let loose, to trust him, so he can bond with them. He is aware of reader's autism, but he will only bring it up when he deems it's important. He knows everyone else knows and that reader doesn't, but he wants to see if reader would eventually figure it out on their own (they don't, he brings it up to them eventually). He's also aware that reader has anxiety and ADHD, with the occasional depression and mood swings. Reader is somewhat self aware of those parts of themself though, it's not a big deal. Reader doesn't really care about their mental health until Hannibal comes in and becomes Dr. Lecter to reader. They're not actually his patient but he will treat them as such when he feels they need a therapy session. Reader doesn't like the idea of therapy at all, not for them. Hannibal has to be discreet when getting them to open up. It works sometimes. Other times, reader just changes the subject to avoid the topic of theirself. While Hannibal does still have an interest in Will, reader is more of a craving for Hannibal's appetite. Hannibal sees reader as a rare delicacy that suits his taste, but he never gets enough, and he always wants more. Will can satisfy him in his interest, but reader doesn't give in to him like Will does. Reader is more hesitant, even when they are comfortable. Eye contact never ceases making reader uneasy, they can't hold it more than a few seconds, though Will can hold it as time goes on, reader can't. Will and reader's relationship is close, as reader relates to Will a lot, and vice versa. They connect. Reader likes to help with the dogs and assist in fixing motors and even go fishing with him. They're pretty much best friends. They're more open with Will than anybody else, as much as Hannibal envies Will for that, he also likes to learn about reader from Will. Since reader doesn't really open up to Hannibal willingly and knowingly, he uses Will for information. Will gives him what he wants, it's not a secret that they talk about reader often, it's just that reader doesn't engage in their talks so they make do. Whether Will has a crush on reader is a mystery, reader is unaware and Hannibal wouldn't allow it if he did. Will knows that Hannibal likes reader, he knows that if he had a crush, it's more than likely going to hurt him more than anything. Hannibal often attempts to get reader's attention in different ways, but reader never understands the message is for them. Will knows he can't be honest with reader as he's afraid that reader would feel uncomfortable around him if he did. He doesn't let himself crave reader after seeing Hannibal attempt to ease his own cravings for them, and seeing how that panned out, he knows he doesn't have a chance with reader if Hannibal of all people doesn't. Reader doesn't really... understand romance. They are capable of feeling romantic, but they don't know how to identify their feelings, so emotions are never clear for them. They feel everything but they don't understand anything.

Hannibal does get reader to give in but it takes a lot of time and effort to pry them open. Once reader is bare, they become insecure and vulnerable. They panic and get scared, and shutdown. Hannibal is a therapist and he knows how to handle this, though, and helps reader. He becomes their guide. Reader thrives off of independence but Hannibal slowly takes their need of independence away, having reader rely on him more and more. It makes him feel powerful. His cravings are nourished at this point in time, he's more addicted than ever, and reader is the center of his world. I guess you could say Hannibal is yandere-esque, not my intention but that's the vibes I'm getting from this. He's overprotective and possessive of reader once he has them under his wing.

What attracts Hannibal to reader is the same reason he's interested in Will. He enjoys having someone clever enough to understand him, to climb over his tall walls. Reader doesn't mean to do this, reader just sees him, and unlike Will, accepts him immediately. Reader never disliked Hannibal, reader's just cautious, as I've stated time and time again. Something about reader's mix of strong empathy but lack of understanding compels Hannibal. Reader sees and infers well enough (guessing close enough to what others think) but they can't really grasp it and latch onto it for theirself. They can't understand the feelings, but they can guess on them, and they can sure as hell feel em. They have trouble explaining stuff to others, and they try to always compare something to something else. They see something as a different thing than what others see. (An example, reader sees the shape and color and texture of a giant hotpocket in the ground, while others see a patch of dirt where grass hasn't grown) (I don't mean they literally see a hot pocket but they make the connection that it looks like a hot pocket) (that example is specific, as it is personal experience LMFAO)

This being said, they can be wrong a lot of the time when they try to infer a killer's intentions, as they sometimes just can't see the intentions being anything else than what they see. They have to rely on others for reference, to mimic their thinking patterns and then make a final guess at the killer's intentions. That's why Will and them connect so easily, as Will usually thinks straight AND helps reader figure it out in their own view. They help the team with investigations for other perspectives while Will helps with the "finalized" guess on the case. If this doesn't make sense, I can give another example, as I don't really know how else to word this. I doubt anyone will actually read any of this and I'm fine with that, I'm just rambling about my ideas. I swear to god though, if someone takes this idea without credit (in general, like the big picture of it) I will cry so so hard you will drown in my tears. Deadass.

Enjoy my rambles ig :)

#safe keeping #fanfiction #hopefully ill remember that

[greyias]

Time to go Full Gravedrog

Hey guys. You know what we haven’t done in a while? That’s right! Put on our tinfoil hats, get tangled up in an entire spool of red string, and do a ridiculous deep dive on lore and make up wild insane theories about the upcoming story drop!

That’s right we’ve got some--

First up. If you haven’t watched it already, here’s the trailer for the 6.2 story drop, specifically for the storyline we’ll be doing our deep dive on, Echoes of Oblivion.

Are you pumped? I’M PUMPED. Let’s do this!

Okay, so there’s a lot to unpack here, and I’m going to state outright, that the chances of this being on the money like Gravedrog is... well. I’ve got no lottery numbers for you this time around. I can’t believe no one took me up on that offer.  There’s always the possibility the storyline has absolutely nothing to do with any previously established lore, and they create something wholly new. And hey, if that’s the case, this is just free fanfic fodder for the masses.

But Charles did mention, I believe on the forums(?), that he’s seen one person guess what’s going on. The real question is... WHO GUESSED IT. HMM.

So I’ve been wanting to actually do a post on this a while, at least since Arcann’s voice actor accidentally made the slip up about Thexan being in this story drop. A large part of this theory/discovery goes to the lovely @confettininjabean​​, who found this piece of lore when we were getting tangled up in red string back in the Gravedrog days, pre-Nathema Conspiracy. Let’s just say, there was a... certain interaction on Twitter that had us thinking this had something to do with NC, and when it didn’t pan out we were like “Oh, weird, guess that wasn’t on the right track” and forgot about it.

Well, sort of. Because we were like, “that really seemed significant considering”, but hey, sometimes you hit upon a Gravedrog, sometimes you think Indo Zal is an evil mastermind playing 4D chess. In other words, when it comes to red string theories, you win some. You lose some.

Anyway. I forget why, but I went perusing on Wookieepedia a few months ago, looking back up this sort of obscure piece of lore for some reason. And something about it was.... FAMILIAR.

The article in question: https://starwars.fandom.com/wiki/Thought_bomb

May I direct your attention, to this part:

Hey. Where have I heard that before?

Aw. Aw shit. Well I mean, that can’t be right though, right? Because it’s Satele and a bunch of Jedi/like-minded Force users that are being possessed right? And besides this is an an ancient Sith ritual thought to be created by... 

Oh.

Oh wait.

But that’s a plague right? Not the same thing as a thought bomb. I mean it’s not like anyone in SWTOR has dealt with a Force plague--

Oh. huh. But you might say, “But Grey, that plague was invented by Terrak Morrhage, not Vitiate.” And you would be right! What I can’t seem to find confirmation of, thus far, is exactly when Terrak Morrhage lived, but by me and Jayde’s current reckoning, it seems like he may have been around possibly during the Great Hyperspace War, the end of which Vitiate used in his mad grab for immortality and power, manipulating what was probably a majority of the remaining Sith Lords into his brand spanking new ritual that he just needed a little help with.

Okay, and this is where we leave lore land, and enter into speculation land. I, um, just got sidetracked on Jedipedia (I’ll get to that), trying to find a codex entry regarding Vitiate I know I’ve read but I lost at some point. So, we’re going off memory here, but I’m fairly certain it’s stated in canon somewhere that prior to his ascension, Vitiate was obsessed with Sith alchemy and ancient Sith rituals. So if Morrhage pre-dated him, or was a peer, it’s possible Vitiate was able to learn about his plague, and adapt it to some of his other experiments.

Okay, back to the thought bomb for a moment. Full disclosure, I haven’t read the Darth Bane novels, so I’m going off of Wookiepeedia here instead of the source material (which is always a dicey affair), it says Bane adapted the thought bomb from notes on the ritual Vitiate performed. So, it’s possible the thought bomb is not a 100% Vitiate original, just a bastardization of it. But it’s interesting that the ritual itself gathers up and shreds the Force essence/soul of everyone in its path. Well, I mean, horrifying. But in this theory’s perspective, interesting in that when Vitiate used Zildrog as part of his ritual--where did all of the Force go exactly?

Because as you wander around Nathema, you hear the tortured whispers of every soul obliterated during that ritual.

This is talked about a little in the Revan novel, and it’s been a few years since I read it so I’m kind of going off memory again, but he basically created a void in the Force there. And remember... in the KOTET chapter we went to Nathema, he was actually visibly afraid a few times. Hmm... now why would that be? Was it Vaylin he was afraid of? Was it something else?

If memory serves, there wasn’t an actual explosion like as described with the thought bomb--because he wasn’t using the ritual as a weapon. He was using it to gather power, to shuffle off this mortal coil and live eternal as an annoying spirit who you just can’t quite squash out no matter how many mind mazes you build to keep him locked up. So, and again, this is speculation land, but all of that swirling Force and dead energy had to go somewhere right? I mean, Zildrog had his snack and went omnomnom, but where did the Force power go? And why was there a Void that constantly pulled at him and sapped away his power on Nathema?

Is it because the Force didn’t explode? Is it because he bound it up in his old disgusting decaying old man flesh? And the only reason he was alive because he basically made himself a little flesh horcrux that was destroyed at the exact moment we sent him off to the Void that he feared so much?

Hmm. Interesting.

Wait. Wait a second... I think there was something else he mentioned. Now, what was it?

You know, I had always assumed he was talking about Gravedrog being unleashed, since the whole reason he went to Zakuul was likely to find the Gravestone so he could pair it with Zildrog back on Nathema, and enact his galaxy-wide extinction event.

And maybe he was.

Or was he talking about his failsafe.

The one he knew would happen if someone destroyed his old, withered, icky body?

So... if the ritual/plague is some take on the thought bomb, and it infects any Force user like some prescient, who could have realized this is what 2020 held in store for us pandemic that spread rapidly and consumed everyone who touched it, until it made manifest what was once just thought...

Is the whole entire point of this to bring Valky back from the dead? Or is it just his last revenge? And what on earth would that last revenge be? Well... and just hear me out. Say there was this guy. Kind of an asshole. And he had this whole schtick about killing every single living thing in the galaxy and liked to consume whole planets in a single gulp just for funsies. Wouldn’t it be so funny if he, say, in the unlikely event he possessed some Outlander who happened to go “get out and get a job loser!” and booted him off to the beyond, and at the same time his old indentured servant and that chick he once possessed found his horcrux and destroyed that, wouldn’t it be a kick if that somehow kicked off a plague that consumed every single Force user in the entire galaxy until it had enough power and then exploded and completely wiped out all life in the galaxy, so that if the asshole who’s name totally isn’t Valkorion couldn’t live forever then neither could any. single. thing. in. the. galaxy.

I mean, that or it’s just a ploy to get him into one final boss fight.

But i dunno... I kind of just found the entire cast list of who’s in the Echoes of Oblivion storyline (warning, major spoilers and datamining on that link, and yes, that’s what distracted me on Jedipedia) and I’m kind of thinking. Having to keep the entire galaxy from being consumed by a sociopath’s final revenge kind of sounds like a pretty epic finale, don’t you?

And hey, if not. Free fanfic idea for anyone who wants it.

Oh yeah, also predicting the following:

We’re going on another mindscape adventure like in KOTET Chapter 9, but it’s Satele’s mind we’re in

It’s not actually Valkorion/Vitiate/Tenebrae, but a remnant/essence of him that’s made manifest by the ritual. Also he needs a combo nickname because I’m tired of having to pick one of three names. I shall call you Valkiatebrae. It’s a beautiful name. I know he’ll love it.

Vaylin and Thexan who we see in the trailer are probably also manifestations conjured by the quasi- Valkiatebrae

We’re going to Ossus? Or Ossus in Satele’s mind?

The Knight and crew missed a few of the death cult back in the storyline, and that’s who was either watching Tenebrae’s body, or who hijacked Satele’s ship OR they have some part in the ritual (perhaps the part to physically manifest  Valkiatebrae). We see them in the trailer above.

Regardless if any single one of these predictions is right I’m going to die of feels

Because I think Satele and Theron may have a scene together????? OMG

I’m screaming again

I’ll stop now

I’m sorry Charles I hope I didn’t do it to you again I couldn’t help myself, but hey at least I kept it in this long

EDITED TO ADD: Okay guys, I’ve been looking more at Jedipedia. I think I can safely hazard a guess that a LOT of fans of different characters are going to be super happy with this update. Just saying.

#the return of spoilers grey #swtor spoilers #spoilers and speculation #swtor 6.2 spoilers #swtor 6.2 #honestly there's a lot more #but i've been thinking about this for so long #i know i've forgotten to include half of it #and i haven't had time to find all of my source #but here you go guys! #one last hurrah #and i even found a way to shoehorn gravedrog in there for you!

[averykedavra]

Too Far Gone

(Hey y’all! I’m back with some Logan angst, because that’s all I’m capable of writing. You can find this story on Ao3 here!)

Summary: Logan Mackenzie doesn't quite understand feelings, but he does care about his friends. That's why he ended up playing matchmaker for his three oblivious best friends.

Getting Roman and Virgil together is hard. Getting Patton to admit his feelings is harder. The hardest part, however, is when he realizes he care a little more than a friend would.

But they're happy together. Roman-Virgil-Patton. 1+1+1=Relationship.

What Logan wants isn't part of the equation.

Ships: eventual romantic LAMP

Warnings: self-deprecation, self-confidence issues, self-isolation, sacrificing happiness for the sake of others, a TON of pining you guys, some denial to spice it up, deceit is only mentioned, self-hatred issues, yeah Logan has some feelings, swearing, insecurity about being polyamorous but it’s very brief, crying, arguing, lots of crying. (that makes it sound really angsty but there’s a ton of fluff too I swear)

Word count: 16,845 (it’s still a oneshot if I post it all at once, shut up)

Logan Mackenzie knew a lot of things. He knew the name of every Agatha Christie novel in alphabetical order. He knew the capitol of every country and a few that weren’t countries anymore. He knew how to calculate the sine of an angle, identify the signs of dehydration, and communicate—albeit rather haltingly—in American Sign Language. He’d maintained good grades through high school, college, and now, graduate school. He wanted to be an astronomy teacher one day, but if that didn’t pan out, a doctor, researcher, or physicist were not out of the question.

As Virgil once put it, the size of Logan’s area of expertise was only eclipsed by the size of Roman’s ego. This led to Roman attacking Virgil with a spatula and declaring that their friendship was over, Virgil was a coward and a fool, and he could not reasonably stand for this heresy. Patton suggested that if Roman couldn’t stand for it, he should just sit down. And that pretty much summed up Logan’s three best friends.

But despite Logan’s knowledge of all things philosophical, scientific, linguistic, and everything in between, he did have one rather large Achilles heel.

He did not understand emotions.

He had them, of course. He could hardly avoid them, being a homo sapiens of ordinary mental health with supremely emotional beings as his friends. Roman was always bursting with drama, exuberance, and Disney songs. Patton was sunshine incarnate with a perpetual smile and endless dad jokes. Virgil was more laid-back and sarcastic, but his issues with anxiety and his not-so-secret softer side still placed him firmly in the Has Feelings category.

Logan had feelings too. Joy when opening a fresh jar of jam, pride after receiving a good grade, frustration when Roman said something particularly dense. He just didn’t seem to…comprehend them as the others did. He often didn’t even realize what he was feeling, only noting the physical symptoms of the emotion.

For a while, he’d asked Patton what he was feeling and Patton had done his best to deduce the answer from the symptoms provided. That was a figurative hit-or-miss endeavor, however, and Logan found his stomach clenching at the sympathetic look on Patton’s face. He knew Patton meant well, but the experience of being pitied—was he being pitied, or was that a cognitive distortion, like the ones he always talked Virgil out of—the experience of feeling pitied was an unpleasant one. These days, he usually researched the symptoms on his own. It was even less accurate, but avoided the cloying feeling of vulnerability.

Logan tried not to be bitter about the situation. He understood so many things, it only made sense for life to give him a figurative handicap. And emotions were hardly the most important thing to understand anyway. He’d much rather know CPR than whether he was angry or merely annoyed. Those sorts of subtleties could be handled by his friends.

They didn’t seem to mind Logan’s…inexperience. They liked him just fine. More than ‘fine,’ in fact. Virgil and him had been friends since high school, back when Logan was even more unmanageable and walled-off. And Patton and Roman both helped him through the stress of college without judgment. The four of them worked, illogical as it was. Their different personalities didn’t clash, they just complemented each other like different shades to a painting. Logan couldn’t imagine having another friend group, and he didn’t want to imagine the circumstances in which he would be forced to find one.

For now, things were all right. Patton cheered them up, Roman pushed them forward, Virgil kept them safe, and Logan educated them. When Patton was sad or Roman was insecure or Virgil was panicking, they’d watch movies or practice breathing or simply talk until the problem was solved. Logan could handle the rational, intellectual part of the issue and Patton or Roman would cover the emotional side of things. Even Virgil, cynical as he was, had a sense for understanding insecurity and fear. Their system worked. If a problem was too emotional for Logan to handle, he could always call Patton or Roman or Virgil. It was simple.

Then came a problem he couldn’t get backup for.

Virgil had a crush.

No, that understated the issue. A simple crush would have been bearable. Virgil had a deep, desperate, all-consuming crush on Roman. It was the sort of crush that made him blush when they were in the same room. The sort of crush that sent him into hyperventilation when Roman said hello. The sort of crush that made him rant endlessly about Roman’s “stupid perfect face and stupid beautiful voice and stupid nice lovely wonderful smile—” until he resorted to simply screaming obscenities into his pillow.

And who did he rant to? None other than Logan Mackenzie, the singular most unqualified person in perhaps the entire Milky Way.

Logan understood Virgil’s predicament. He couldn’t talk about it to the object of his affections, of course. Patton was also out of the picture—him and Roman were thick as figurative thieves, and Patton would never keep a secret from anyone. He’d try, maybe, but he was a terrible liar and Roman would surely catch on.

Logan was the only possible option. They were roommates, they were friends, and Logan could keep a secret. And Logan, good friend as he was, did want to support Virgil through this emotional time.

However, he couldn’t say it didn’t get…tedious.

Especially as the crush showed no signs of fading, and Virgil still refused to tell Roman about it.

“Virgil,” Logan said, poking at the mop of purple hair he knew possessed his best friend. Virgil merely mumbled something that sounded like “stupid wonderful personality” and ignored him.

“Virgil,” Logan repeated, louder. “I’d like you to explain—"

“Why I don’t tell him. I know.” Virgil batted Logan’s hand away, poking his face above the covers. A residual blush still lingered on his face. “You’ve said that a million times.”

“Yes,” Logan agreed tautly. “Because it is the only possible conclusion to this fiasco and I don’t see why you can’t just get it over with.”

“Not the only possible conclusion,” Virgil grumbled. “It’ll probably go away soon.”

“Virgil, remind me how long you have had this crush?”

Virgil glared at him and didn’t respond.

“Fine, I’ll tell you the answer myself.” Logan adjusted his glasses. “Eighty-three days and five hours.”

“You remember that?”

“Hard to forget,” Logan snapped, “when you have spent the majority of those eighty-three days complaining about Roman’s perfect eyebrows.”

Virgil rolled his eyes. “But…have you seen his eyebrows, L?”

“As a matter of fact, I have. Because I see him every day, Virgil. He is my best friend.”

“Then you should appreciate my struggle.” Virgil rolled over, covering his head with a pillow. “I’m completely doomed.”

“Just tell him!” Logan burst out. “This crush will not end of its own accord. You need to confess your feelings, if only to lay your mind at rest. Roman is not currently in a relationship with anyone. He is pansexual and panromantic and could very easily reciprocate your feelings. Give me one good reason why you shouldn’t just tell him how you feel.”

Virgil groaned. “Is ‘everything’ a reason?”

“No.”

“Is ‘I just can’t’ a reason?”

“Also no.”

“Is ‘I’d rather die’ a reason?”

Logan raised his eyes to the ceiling. “Sometimes I don’t comprehend humanity.”

“Look, L, I…” Virgil struggled out from under his covers, pulling at a sleeve and avoiding his gaze. “What if he doesn’t like me? That way?”

“Then you will at least have some clarification instead of being stuck in a figurative limbo state.”

“What if it ruins our friendship? What if he thinks I’m weird or creepy or—”

“Virgil.” Logan carefully placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “Roman is a good friend who values you deeply. I sincerely doubt this would ruin your friendship. Things may be different for a time, but you will not lose him over this. I promise.”

Virgil looked a little consoled. Still, he squeezed the blanket with both hands. “What if—what if he—”

Virgil fell silent. Logan tilted his head. “Yes?”

“Never mind, it’s…it’s stupid.”

“If it is bothering you, it’s not stupid.”

Virgil seemed to struggle with his thoughts for a second. Finally, he burst out: “What if he feels forced?”

“I’m not sure I know what you mean,” Logan said. “Could you elaborate?”

“What if he feels like…just ‘cause I like him…he needs to…” Virgil pulled at his sleeve, biting his lip. “I dunno…pretend? Date me to be nice? Out of pity? I don’t want…I don’t want him to feel…like he has to sacrifice his happiness so I can feel better.”

Something ached in Logan’s chest. It was a hard, sharp ache, with heat but no anger. Compassion, that’s what it was. Platonic love for his insecure, anxious, wonderful best friend.

“Virgil, look at me,” Logan instructed. Virgil slowly looked up, his brown eyes dark with worry. Logan reached out and brushed his purple bangs out of his eyes.

“Roman is not a cruel person.” Logan kept his voice soft, comforting. “He cares deeply about you, as I have said before. He would not string you on a figurative wild goose chase no matter his feelings for you. He is not a liar and he would not do such a thing out of pity for you. Roman does not, and never will, pity you.” Logan laughed quietly. “And sacrificing his own happiness for others sounds more like something you would do, Virgil.”

Virgil huffed with irritation. But his prickly expression soon faded. “Thanks, L.”

“It is my pleasure.”

Virgil nodded to himself. Then his face lit up, but just as soon as the excitement crossed his features, it flickered away again.

“What is it?” Logan asked, leaning forward on his chair.

Virgil bit his lip again. “Well…um, I had an idea…but it’s probably stupid and you don’t have to—um. Well. Maybe you could…see if Roman likes me? Ask him?”

Logan blinked. “Are you asking me to…clandestinely investigate whether Roman has romantic feelings for you as if we were back in high school?”

Virgil shrugged sheepishly. “…Maybe?”

“Unbelievable.” Logan sat back and crossed his arms. “Virgil, I would do many things for you. But I am not going to play matchmaker.”

“C’mon,” Virgil said. “I’ll let you have first pick at movie night and do your share of the dishes for a week and give you back your Alice in Wonderland puzzle book.”

“Tempting,” Logan admitted. “And if I do such a…juvenile venture, and find out that Roman holds romantic feelings for you, will you tell Roman of your crush?”

Virgil rubbed his face. “Do I have to?”

Logan gave him a level stare.

“Fine!” Virgil threw his hands in the air. “Fine. You win. If Roman likes me…maybe I’ll tell him. Maybe.”

“Maybe?” Logan echoed.

“It’s the best you’re getting, Pocket Protector.” Virgil grinned. “Take it or leave it.”

Logan mulled over the question, but truly, it wasn’t much of a debate. He wanted Virgil to step up and take action. He wanted the pair of them to get together, if only to end Virgil’s ceaseless complaining. And…truly, he was a little curious who Roman did like. He often proclaimed that he wanted to sweep someone off their feet or slay a dragon for them or simply be in a romance, but Logan never heard a specific name attached to those fantasies. In fact, he couldn’t remember Roman ever talking about his crushes—strange indeed, when Logan had always thought of him as a romantic.

“Deal,” Logan said.

“Thanks, L. You’re a lifesaver.”

“I don’t think your life would be in jeopardy, unless you can die from pining—”

Virgil chucked a pillow at Logan’s head. “Shut up and get matchmaking, Cupid.”

“Don’t call me that.”

Virgil grinned like a cat who’d eaten a canary. And Logan wondered just what he’d gotten himself into.

                                                                                                                                It took a little work to find time with Roman alone. Patton stuck to him like a barnacle—they were roommates and both were extremely clingy. In fact, they often acted like they were dating, but Logan supposed they were just very touchy friends.

Perhaps they were dating in secret. Or Logan just didn’t know about it because they’d chosen not to tell him because he didn’t understand relationships and—okay, he was starting to sound like Virgil. They were not secretly dating. Patton couldn’t keep a secret to save his life, and neither of them had any motivation to hide such a thing from Logan or Virgil. Roman was single and therefore, could possibly like Virgil back.

Logan just wanted Virgil happy and not pining sadly in his bedroom. Was that too much to ask for?

Finally, he managed to get Roman alone. It was during their traditional movie night, between Mulan and Pocahontas. Patton had realized they were out of popcorn and Logan convince Virgil to go with him to get some more. Virgil gave Logan a suspicious look, but after Logan motioned to Roman and quickly signed ‘I’ll ask him,’ Virgil let himself be dragged to the store with Patton. He didn’t seem entirely upset with the situation—though Virgil would deny it, he loved Patton. Though Patton never denied it, he loved Virgil back.

“Well, it’s just you and me, Specs.” Roman ducked behind the counter and came up with two mugs. He handed Logan the one that said ‘Best Mother Ever’ and kept the ‘I Drink Coffee to Hide the Pain’ mug for himself. Rooting around in the cupboard, Roman pulled out some hot chocolate mix.

“I’m not the best with this stuff—Patton’s a miracle worker, I swear—but I think it’ll do.”

“Hot chocolate in March?” Logan asked. “It’s fifty degrees outside.”

“Silence,” Roman ordered. “I’m bored and I wanna have sweet stuff. Don’t rain on my parade.”

Logan smiled as Roman began to make them the hot chocolate. Soon they both had a steaming mug of sweet melted chocolate. Logan stirred his and watched the steam curl in the air. Roman watched him out of the corner of his eye, a tentative smile on his face.

“What?” Logan asked.

Roman shrugged. “…Are you gonna drink it?”

Logan blew on the cup and took a sip. The sweetness warmed his throat, and he could feel it traveling to his stomach, making every extremity of his body warmer. Roman had stuck a sprig of peppermint

“It is…satisfactory,” Logan said, taking another sip.

Roman grinned. “Glad you approve, Microsoft Nerd.”

Logan sighed. “Why must you always insult me?”

“Hey, this is how I show my love!”

Jumping on this auspicious phrasing, Logan decided to put his plan into motion. Carefully maintaining his nonchalant tone, he said, “Is it now.”

“Yes!” Roman put his hands on his hips. “You may be insufferable and annoying and completely idiotic sometimes, but I care about you!”

A smile played around Logan’s lips. “Is that how you treat your princes and princesses? Insult them as you rescue them from the tower? I can’t imagine they’d like that very much.”

“Rude.” Roman shoved Logan, almost knocking over his ‘Best Mother Ever’ mug—why did they even have that mug? None of them were female—and giving him a roguish grin. “My romantic endeavors go just fine, thank you.”

“Oh really?” Logan tried to bridge the line between teasing banter and honest curiosity. Come on too strong, and Roman could get suspicious. “I wouldn’t know, you never talk about them.”

Roman shrugged. “I have to have some secrets, don’t I?”

Logan snorted. “Don’t tell me you’re dating someone in secret? A Romeo and Juliet situation, perhaps? I’m sorry to say that Patton might be a bit upset if you were banished for manslaughter.”

“I’m not dating anyone,” Roman said, laughing. Quietly, he added, “Not for lack of trying.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. Roman fidgeted uncomfortably before taking a large sip of hot chocolate and avoiding Logan’s gaze. Unfortunately, that hot chocolate seemed to be too hot. Roman swore, jumping back and batting at his tongue. Logan poured him some water, which he downed. Roman soon recovered enough to begin moaning about his injury and threatening to “get my revenge on this accursed cocoa by any means necessary.” Before Roman could bring out his sword and challenge the mug to an Agni Kai, Logan decided to ask his big question.

“…Roman, do you…I mean, you don’t have to tell me, but…”

Curses, why was this so hard? Roman’s face wrinkled in confusion and concern, eyebrows high.

“…Do you have feelings for anyone?”

Roman laughed lightly. “I have a lot of feelings, Specs. Be more specific.”

“Do you have…romantic feelings?” Logan clutched his cup. “I’m curious. You never speak about relationships in the specific…and you mention trying to date someone. It’s okay if you don’t want to disclose this information, but I would like to understand better.”

Roman sighed, staring into his cocoa. “It’s complicated, Specs.”

“Try me.”

“I…” Roman rubbed his hand across his eyes. “I don’t know. Yes, probably? There’s…someone I have in mind…but…oh, I don’t know. Why do things have to be so confusing? Where’s the line between they’re-just-a-friend and I-may-wanna-date-them? In stories it’s always so clear-cut, and they always fall for just—I mean, it’s always obvious that they like someone. It’s…it’s never been that way for me.”

Logan watched Roman with sympathy. “I can understand that. The line between platonic and romantic attraction is often blurry.”

“I know.” Roman was hunched over, tracing circles on the rim of his mug. “And I sincerely doubt anyone thinks of me that way, so it’s a moo point.”

“…a moot point.”

“That’s what I said.”

Logan chose not to comment. Instead, he said simply, “That’s not true.”

Roman’s head jerked up. “What?”

“That’s not true,” Logan repeated. Maybe he was breaking Virgil’s trust, just a little bit, but he could be vague. And how was he supposed to find out if Roman liked Virgil without bringing Virgil up?

“You mean…someone likes me?” Roman looked disbelieving, far too disbelieving, and Logan reminded himself to have another talk with Patton about Roman’s self-esteem.

Logan nodded. “Yes.”

“Who?”

“I can’t say,” Logan said, raising his mug. “They wouldn’t want me to tell their secret.”

“That’s fair,” Roman said.

Logan took a sip of hot chocolate.

“…it isn’t you, is it?”

And Logan almost spit out said sip of chocolate.

Roman thought—wait, he thought—

This was not good.

Instead of being rational, instead of thinking this through, Logan’s heartbeat skyrocketed and he panicked.

“What?” Logan yelped. “No! No, no, hell no. I would never want to date you.”

Roman looked like he’d been slapped. Hurt blossomed over his face. “Wow, thanks,” he said, the sarcasm sharp with wounded pride. “Glad you think so much of me.”

“No!” Logan set down his coffee and ran his hands through his hair. “That…didn’t…I didn’t mean it like that. I have nothing against you. You’re just…” Excuse, excuse, something, something! “…not my type?”

“Not your type?” Roman looked slightly mollified, and, oh no, now he was smiling in that teasing way of his. “What is your type, then?”

Logan sipped his cocoa and tried to maintain a figurative straight face. “Someone who doesn’t light their hand sanitizer on fire by accident.”

Offended noises followed that statement. “That was one time!” Roman protested. “And it was Remus’ fault!”

“Of course it was.” Logan rolled his eyes. “You two are natural disasters and threats to the peace of this nation.”

“Thank you!”

Logan sighed into his hot chocolate. Silence fell, slightly uncomfortable but not grating.

Finally, Roman asked, “Who is it?”

“I told you,” Logan said, finishing his cocoa and setting down the mug. “I can’t say.”

Roman pouted. “Meanie.”

“You were the one who said it was fair!”

“Well, now I’m curious!” Roman complained. “Can’t you give me a hint?”

Logan looked into Roman’s eyes. “Who do you want it to be?”

A blush rose to Roman’s cheeks. He hurriedly looked away. “I dunno…I mean…”

“I won’t tell anyone.” Logan walked over to the sink and began washing out his mug. “And I do not judge.”

Roman sighed dramatically behind him. “Must you force me into this confession, oh heartless one?”

“I’m not forcing you into anything.”

Another dramatic sigh. “Fine. I—I like—”

And then there was an indistinguishable mumble. Logan turned off the water and looked behind him. “I didn’t catch that.”

“I like Patton,” Roman whispered.

Oh.

“…and Virgil.”

Oh.

Logan tried not to let his excitement show. “I…didn’t realize you were polyamorous.”

“I didn’t tell anyone.” Roman shrugged. His voice was strangely brittle. “Until…now, I guess.”

“Well.” Logan walked over and leaned on the counter next to Roman. “…Thank you. For telling me.”

Roman gave a small, insincere smile that quickly vanished. “You don’t think it’s…weird?”

“Of course not.” Logan channeled all his certainty into his words. “Many people are polyamorous. It’s not ‘weird’ any more than it is ‘weird’ for some people to be bisexual, or aromantic, or demisexual. It’s a way of experiencing sexual or romantic attraction that is no less valid than any other.”

“Huh.” That small smile returned, more sincere this time. “Thanks, Specs.”

“It’s no issue.”

“Thanks.” Roman fidgeted slightly. “It’s not fun, you know.”

“What isn’t?” Logan asked.

“I dunno.” Roman waved a hand in his usual flamboyant gesturing, but something about it was ragged. “Liking two people gives double the heartbreak. I’d settle for one of them—I’d love to be with one of them, but it’ll never happen.” Recovering himself, he pressed a hand to his forehead and wilted. “Woe is me, I shall never be loved by my loves.”

Logan chuckled. “How do you know?”

“Well, I did,” Roman clarified. “Now you’ve cruelly given me hope.”

“Cruel indeed.” Logan traced his fingers over the counter. “Imagine, one of the two people you’re closest to might have romantic feelings for you as well. How improbable. It’s not like platonic relationships often lead to romantic ones.”

Roman laughed. “I think you’ve been hanging out with Dee too much.”

“Roman,” Logan said. “It is not out of the picture for at least one of your objects of affection to reciprocate your feelings.” He avoided Roman’s eyes. “I, for one, think you are…a good person. Kind, smart, funny…I can see how someone might fall for you.”

Okay, this was getting into territory he didn’t like. Time to backtrack. “In fact, as you and I know, someone does hold those feelings for you.”

“Is it…one of them?” Roman asked. The hesitant hope in his face was almost heartbreaking.

“I couldn’t tell you,” Logan said. “Even if it was one of them, I wouldn’t know the feelings of the other.”

“Hmm.” Roman furrowed his brow. Then his face lit up. “Hey, Professor Plum?”

“Don’t call me that, the character in the movie Clue is a scoundrel and a disgrace to academia—”

“Miss White,” Roman corrected.

“Hardly better.”

“Wadsworth,” Roman settled on. “Could you—since you know about this—could you find out if either of them—”

Foreboding filled Logan. “Please don’t say you want me to—”

“—play Matchmaker?” Roman smiled sheepishly. “Maybe?”

“Oh, Newton.” Logan rubbed his eyes. “Roman, please say you’re joking.”

“I’m not!” Roman seemed pleased with the idea, the exact opposite of Logan’s feelings on the matter. “You could just ask Virgil and Patton if they like anyone, and see if either of them like me.”

“Roman.” Logan sighed loudly. “There are several fallacies with this plan. For one, I may already have information on them. For another, I would be betraying their trust by telling you. You could not gain any information from this venture and I am not going to be complicit in it—”

“…Please?” Roman asked. “You can just find out if they like anyone else, and then you can tell me if they don’t, if I have a shot, and—”

Something fiery and hot was growing in Logan’s chest. Annoyance or anger? Probably the former, since Roman didn’t mean to do this. Still...it burned.

“—and most likely I won’t, but there are two chances, right? And—”

“Roman.”

“—I’m just really curious now, I’m tired of pining—”

“Roman!”

“—this is turning into a romantic comedy, it’s painful—”

“Roman, Virgil likes you!”

Roman immediately froze. His eyes widened, then widened even further, until there seemed to be more whites than irises.

Something heavy and cloying twisted in Logan’s stomach. Shame? Guilt? Fear? Something, definitely. He’d betrayed Virgil’s trust.

But on the surface was still annoyance, and Logan let it out.

“He sent me to find out your crush and get me to play Matchmaker! Now you’re asking me to do the same thing, and I am most certainly not creeping behind both of your backs and being a double agent for your silly romantic antics! Please just communicate with each other like adults before I go insane!”

Roman’s mouth was hanging open. He closed it, swallowed, and opened it again.

“…Wait,” Roman said. “…Virgil likes me?”

“Yes.” Logan felt his anger fade.

“…Are you sure?”

“He’s been ranting about your beautiful eyelashes for months, so I’d say I’m pretty sure.”

Roman looked like Logan had smacked him in the face, let loose a flash grenade between his eyes, and began singing All Star in an Elvis costume. “Really?”

Logan wanted to chuck Roman at the wall. “Yes, really. I do not propagate falsehoods, Roman.”

“Wow.” Roman still appeared shell-shocked. “I didn’t expect…I mean…wow.”

“Wow indeed,” Logan said, pushing himself off the counter and heading to the couch. “Do what you will with this information, Roman. My part here is done.”

“Logan…” Roman followed, tossing himself on the couch and grabbing a blanket. “Thanks.”

“It was no problem. In fact, it was my pleasure.” Logan placed himself on the other side of the couch, reaching for the bowl of chips. “I am glad this ordeal is over with.”

“Well, it isn’t yet, Teach.” Roman smiled. “I still need to ask him out. I’m thinking the first day of spring, a garden—”

“Do it now.”

“What?”

“Do it now,” Logan said. “As soon as Virgil comes back. Before you can A) talk yourself out of it or B) design some ridiculously complicated endeavor that would most likely leave Virgil overwhelmed.”

Roman scoffed. “When have I ever done something like that?”

Logan pointedly glared at him.

Roman sunk into the couch cushions, crossing his arms petulantly. “Fine.”

“Good.”

Roman grabbed the TV remote and turned the TV back on. The loading screen for Pocahontas showed. He pressed play.

“They’ll miss it,” Logan complained.

“We’ll start it over.” Roman’s face was determined in the light of the screen, which accentuated the flop of his brown hair and the firm jaw that swept under his crooked smile. Logan narrowed his eyes, trying to see whether Roman’s eyebrows were anything special. They appeared normal, brown and defined, but maybe from another angle—

“What are you doing?” Roman asked, turning and meeting Logan’s eyes.

“Nothing,” Logan said. “Let’s watch.”

They made it fifteen minutes into the movie before Patton and Virgil returned. Patton had gotten sidetracked with petting a cute dog and the store had a long line. Virgil dumped the popcorn in a bowl and Patton gave Logan and Roman hugs despite seeing them only half an hour before.

“You started already?” Virgil complained.

“Rest easy, Maleficent. We’ll start over.” Roman’s face darkened with a slight blush. “But um…actually…could we talk for a sec? Alone?”

Panic flitted over Virgil’s face. He glanced at Logan, who gave him an encouraging smile.

“O-okay,” Virgil agreed, fidgeting with his hoodie. “Sure.”

“Cool.” Roman led Virgil down the hallway to Patton’s bedroom. “Pat, is it okay if we go in here? My room’s a mess.”

“Sure thing, kiddo!” Patton called. Roman smiled and they walked through the doorway, Roman shutting the door behind them.

“What’re they up to?” Patton asked, settling on the couch next to Logan.

“Can’t tell you that,” Logan said. “I’ve spilled enough secrets today.”

Patton looked at him curiously but apparently decided not to comment.

And they sat in silence, Patton munching on the popcorn, Logan watching the clock and praying whatever was going on, it was good.

After five minutes, Virgil and Roman emerged. Roman was beaming, and Virgil had a small, shy smile on his face. Logan noticed their hands were brushing each other—not intertwined, not yet, but comfortably side-by-side.

Virgil sat next to Logan and Roman sat next to Patton. Patton’s questions about their conversation were brushed off, and Patton soon conceded the issue and turned on the movie again. As Pocahontas sang, Virgil leaned over to Logan and punched him in the arm. Logan hissed in pain. “What was that for?” he whispered.

“Telling him.” Virgil was smirking, however, and Logan knew he was forgiven.

“It worked out, didn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Virgil looked over at Roman, whose smile still hadn’t faded. Roman saw Virgil and smiled even wider, getting a smile in return.

“Yeah, I think it did.”

                                                                                                                               Something was wrong with Patton.

It was about three months since Roman and Virgil had begun officially dating. The amount of pining-based rants had sharply dipped. Unfortunately, they were replaced by what-do-I-wear-to-a-coffee-date rants and holy-shit-we-kissed-Logan-we-kissed-help rants and what-if-he-secretly-hates-me-should-I-break-up-with-him-before-he-does rants. What’s more, he also began receiving more calls and texts from Roman along the lines of “What’s Virgil’s favorite food” and “Does he like park dates” and “He hasn’t texted me back yet does he hate me is he going to break up with me,” so Logan resigned himself to his fate. Dating they might be, adorable and sweet and supportive they might be, but Logan would still have to deal with their gay panic.

However, his somewhat inept support of them had apparently deemed him “Emotionally Competent.” It was a false label and a new label, replacing his old one of “We Ask Him About Stars, Not Feelings.” Logan didn’t feel he deserved this new designation, but like it or not, he was now someone who could Help With Feelings.

That’s why he was the one talking to Patton.

Well, that wasn’t the whole story. It was also because Patton’s strange behavior was mostly limited to Roman and Virgil. He was kind and sweet and cheerful, but his smile always seemed strained when in their company. More often than not, he excused himself from group activities early, only talked to Logan, or even—according to a concerned Virgil—being strangely distant one-on-one. Sometimes Logan spotted Patton staring at Roman and Virgil, an inexplicably sad look on his face, but when confronted he immediately smiled and said it was nothing. Roman and Virgil, worried they had done something wrong, enlisted Logan to discover the source of the problem.

And the newly Emotionally Competent Logan couldn’t say no.

It was Patton, after all. Sweet, lovely, amazing Patton. If something was truly wrong, he would not hesitate to attempt assistance. He cared deeply for Patton. And although his recent behavior didn’t extend to Logan—in fact, by process of elimination, Logan actually ended up being with Patton more than on average—he still wanted the old Patton back.

So, after an afternoon in Patton and Roman’s apartment that consisted of a violently competitive game of Monopoly—Roman tried to place a hotel on a railroad, Patton traded properties with everyone to help them win, and after Logan collected the Free Parking money totaling 564 dollars, Virgil chucked a shoe at his head—Logan decided to stay behind, help Patton clean up the mess, and ask him a few questions.

Patton seemed to be his normal self. He gladly assisted Logan with the cleanup, cracking jokes and telling the story of a very nice cat he’d met at the animal shelter he volunteered for.

“You’re allergic to cats,” Logan pointed out for the twenty-seventh time.

“I know,” Patton said with a pout. “But she was so cute! And her little fluffy ears…she was purr-fect!”

“I do hope you took your medicine.”

“Of course I did, kiddo!”

Logan smiled. “Roman reminded you, didn’t he?”

Patton giggled and booped Logan’s nose. Had they been with company, Logan wouldn’t have allowed such a thing. But Patton was exhilarating, energetic, so full of life, so contagious—and no one could see anyway. He didn’t mind. In fact, he leaned forward and booped Patton back. Patton’s delighted squeal was worth it.

Tossing a few more pieces into the box, Logan debated how he would tackle the issue. He didn’t want to alarm or upset Patton, or force him to tell anything he didn’t want to. What’s more, Patton would probably deny the problem like he often did, pretending everything was fine. Getting around Patton’s emotional wall would be a challenge.

It was a good thing Logan liked challenges.

But he’d been silent for too long. Patton’s face furrowed in a frown, and he leaned forward, tapping Logan on the shoulder. “Are you okay?”

“Of course,” Logan said.

“You just…kinda spaced out there for a sec.” Patton tilted his head. “Anything you wanna talk about?”

Logan closed the box. “Yes. I think so.”

“Well, then.” Patton sat on the carpet and patted the spot next to him. “I’m all ears!”

Logan hesitantly sat next to Patton. “You’re not all ears, you consist of many different organs—”

Patton giggled. “So I ‘ear.”

“Alright then.” Logan decided to let the pun slide. “Patton…I…”

“It’s okay, kiddo.” Patton’s voice was soft. “You can talk to me.”

Then Logan realized. He couldn’t think of this like a puzzle or a mystery like with Roman. Patton responded to emotion. If he wanted results, he needed to have an honest, emotional conversation.

Shit.

Well, here went nothing.

“Patton, I’m worried about you.”

Patton blinked. A startled laugh escaped his mouth. “Wha—me?”

“Yes.” Logan maintained eye contact—Patton’s eyes were blue, contrasting with his curly blond hair. They reminded Logan of freshwater pools, teeming with life, or the shade of the Earth when seen from space. “You’ve been behaving strangely, and I’m worried. Is everything alright?”

“Well, shucks!” Patton smiled. “I appreciate the concern, kiddo, but I’m doing fine-and-dandy over here. Why are you worried?”

“Because you’ve been distant.” Logan’s eyes were beginning to sting from the prolonged eye contact, but he kept looking at Patton. “You’re avoiding Roman and Virgil. You’re talking to me instead of them. They’ve noticed too, and they’re worried they did something to hurt you. Something that made you…wary. Closed-off.”

Patton’s smile faded for a second. “Ro and Virge? They think I…I’m mad at them?”

“They want to make sure you’re okay.” Logan finally dropped his gaze. “So do I.”

Patton made a little sad noise in his throat. “I…I’m not mad at them! I never meant them to think—they didn’t do anything! They’re wonderful!”

“I’m glad, and I suspected that,” Logan said. “So could you tell me, if they haven’t done anything…why are you avoiding them?”

Patton pressed his lips together. His smile was completely gone now.

“It’s okay if you’re not ready,” Logan said. Carefully, he reached out and touched Patton’s arm. “But I care about you. We care about you. If something is hurting or inhibiting you…we want to help.”

Patton gave a short, shaky nod. “I—”

“Take your time.”

“I—” Patton’s face crumpled. “I’m being stupid.”

“I hardly think so,” Logan said. “If it is distressing you, it is not stupid.”

“Right.” Patton gave a watery smile. “You know, Logan, I never told you how much I like that tie of yours! It adds a lot to your a-tie-re, you should knot think of giving it up en-tie-rly!”

Logan ran his hand down his blue tie. “Thank you, Patton.”

“You’re welcome, kiddo!”

“…but you’re deflecting,” he added softly. Carefully, letting Patton stop him if he wanted to, Logan placed his arm around Patton’s shoulders. “I’m not asking you about my tie. I’m asking about you, Patton.”

Patton’s shoulders began to shake under Logan’s arm, and before he knew it, his best friend was crying into his shirt.

Logan didn’t interrupt. He stroked Patton’s back gently, letting Patton release his tears. After a few minutes of sobbing, Patton hiccupped twice and began to apologize.

“Stop,” Logan murmured. “It’s not your fault. You needed to get that out.”

“I—” Patton began to cry again. “I’m being so selfish—they’re so nice, and wonderful, and they care about each other, they love each other, and I want them to be happy—they’re happy!—so why am I—why do I feel—"

“Breathe, Patton.” Logan lay a hand on Patton’s head and began stroking his hair. Patton clutched Logan’s polo shirt tighter, almost hugging him as he cried. At this point Patton was almost in Logan’s lap, curled into his chest, pressed against Logan’s heart.

“It’s okay,” Logan said, letting Patton’s curls cascade around his hand. “It’s okay. You’re okay.”

“I’m going to ruin it for them—”

“You love them.” Logan kept his voice quiet, giving Patton a chance to back out. “Yes?”

Slowly, Patton nodded.

“Then that is not your fault,” Logan assured him. “You cannot control your feelings any more than…any more than one can stop a river from flowing. Yes, you can dam up the river, but eventually it will break through and cause more damage. The only way to deal with the problem is to go with the flow.” Logan tenderly brushed a few locks of hair from Patton’s head. “You need to ride with the current, Patton. Ignoring the problem and pushing away people you love in the process…that’s repression, and just like with the dam, it will only make things worse when emotions do break through.”

Patton gave a watery giggle. “You’re so smart, Lolo.”

Logan felt something twitch at the nickname—annoyance, probably. Annoyance that made his face burn red. But now was not the time.

“…I have to tell them, don’t I?” Patton asked quietly.

“You don’t have to do anything.” Gently, Logan took Patton’s hands and pulled them from his shirt, folding their fingers together and rubbing his thumbs over the backs of Patton’s hands. “But I would recommend it.”

Patton’s lip wobbled. “What if they hate me? Or they think I’m weird, or—”

Despite himself, Logan smiled. “Any excuse you give me, believe me. I’ve heard it before. When Virgil and Roman didn’t want to confess their feelings. I think we both know how that turned out.”

He got a small, hesitant smile in return. A smile that could outshine the sun.

“They’re so wonderful…” Patton sighed wistfully, staring into nothing. “Virgil…Roman…they just—everything they do, they’re so strong, they—you know how wonderful they are, right, Lo?”

Logan thought of Virgil’s snappy retorts, Roman’s overblown theatrics, and how they seemed to fit together like puzzle pieces. Night and day, moon and sun, yin and yang, opposites that complemented each other and helped each other grow. Virgil, with his wry smile and astute observations and sewing skills. Roman, with the theater he loved so much and the friends he loved even more, always ready to seize the day and create something new. They couldn’t see the worth within themselves, the light that shone in their eyes, but they could see each other’s. And Logan could see theirs.

“Yes, I know.” Logan smiled into Patton’s hair. “At least, I’m starting to.”

                                                                                                                               Despite Patton’s worries, the conversation went well. Roman, of course, was thrilled—he’d loved Patton for months. Virgil, although he admitted he had never thought of Patton that way, was still open to the idea. And after a few months, it was clear he was falling head-over-heels.

It was the three of them now. Virgil-Roman-Patton. Virgil and Roman’s snappy banter and nervous kisses were now complemented by Patton’s boundless compassion and propensity for snuggling. It was not uncommon for Virgil to spend the night at Roman and Patton’s apartment, the three piled on the couch amidst various blankets and pillows, The Emperor’s New Groove playing as they fell asleep.

Of course, despite Logan’s new status as the figurative Fourth Wheel—a misleading term, because four-wheeled mechanisms of transportation were far more common than three-wheeled ones—they still made sure Logan felt included. They still had movie nights, one-on-one conversations, friendly walks to the park or to the store. Logan didn’t begrudge their new need for only-the-three-of-them days. It made sense—they were dating. They wanted time on their own. And it made something in his chest loosen with warmth when he saw them together, smiling and laughing, fitting together like pieces in a puzzle. They were his friends, and he was happy they were happy. Even if ridiculous levels of PDA did make his chest sting a bit.

The day things changed wasn’t a day at all. It was a night, and it was a night in the city, and it was the night Logan realized something very important.

The problem was, it would have been a great night if he hadn’t.

It was fall. The air was nippy and chilled, leaves beginning to lose their chlorophyll and reveal the fiery shades underneath. Virgil was already counting down the days until Halloween—Logan came home from school one day to see him draping spiderwebs across every available surface, bopping along to This is Halloween.

Roman had just landed a part in a local production of Into the Woods—Prince Charming. Virgil jumped on the opportunity for a nickname and soon Prince Charming, or Princey for short, was his pet name for Roman. Roman acted offended, but it was a term of endearment and a reminder of his success as an actor, so Logan guessed he didn’t really mind.

To celebrate, Patton decided they should all go out for dinner together. He recommended a Mexican place downtown, and Virgil and Roman were thrilled. Logan, assuming it was going to be a date, didn’t respond to the invite. That got him yelled at.

Princey: WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU THOUGHT YOU WEREN’T INVITED

Princey: WE MADE THESE PLANS IN THE GROUP CHAT

Princey: THE GROUP CHAT THAT YOU ARE IN

Princey: IF WE DIDN’T WANT U, WOULD WE HAVE TOLD U WHEN/WHERE/WHY IT WAS HAPPENING?

Pattoncake: Calm down Ro!!

Pattoncake: it was just a misunderstanding

Pattoncake: but you’re coming right Lolo?

Princey: You’d better

Princey: This is a night to celebrate MY AMAZINGNESS and ALL my favorite people must be there

Emo Nightmare: if u don’t come i’ll probly end up murdering princey for singing agony too much

Princey: IT IS A GREAT SONG AND I WILL FIGHT YOU WITH MY BEAUTIFULLY MANICURED SWORD

Pattoncake: okay let’s calm down, no murder on Roro’s big night!

Emo Nightmare: ok I wont kill princey

Emo Nightmare: but ill kill L if he doesn’t show up

Pattoncake: That’s not really better.

Princey: I stand with you Virgil! The nerd shall come or be PUNISHED BY DEATH!

Emo Nightmare: yep

Pattoncake: No!!!!

Pattoncake: if he doesn’t come, that’s okay

Pattoncake: I’ll just eat all his crofters! I’m sure he won’t mind!

Emo Nightmare: holy shit patton’s bringing out the big guns

Lo-bot: Fine. I will come. Please do not threaten me or my jam.

Princey: Wait that worked?

Pattoncake: I know Lolo well!! ;)

Emo Nightmare: okay that was actually kind of terrifying

Lo-bot: Also, please stop calling me LoLo.

Emo Nightmare: quiet lolo

Princey: LMAO already changed your name

Lolo: …Pardon me while I scream.

So Logan went to the date—the not-a-date-anymore, the date-except-Logan-is-here. He met up with Patton and Roman and Virgil, the brisk autumn wind making his cheeks red, wearing a woolen greatcoat and grey checkered scarf. Virgil said he was overdressed for the temperature. Patton said he looked like Sherlock. Roman said that the eighteen-hundreds called and they wanted their nerd back.

Patton was wearing a pale blue shirt and a cardigan with soft jeans. Little cat patterns were sewed on his knees. Virgil had his usual black-and-purple hoodie, and Roman had a red-and-gold jacket over a plain white shirt. They made quite the team, walking down to the restaurant, Roman waving at everyone and Patton running up to pet every dog in the vicinity.

The restaurant’s food was delicious. They got several plates of food and shared them—a pile of roasted chicken, a bean soup, a salad, a bowl of yucca fries, and other wraps and dishes. Roman only sang Agony once, and he kept his volume low.

“What else?” Patton asked as they stretched, bellies full, and made their way to the door. “It’s dark but it’s still early.”

They decided to walk around the city for a while. The lights were on, windows glowing in the dark. Streetlights illuminated their skins, creating halos of light around Patton’s curly hair and Virgil’s smug smile and Roman’s breathless grin. The sidewalk was busy, the roads even busier, but they still had stretches to themselves. It was a wild night, the sort of night that seemed separate from any day before or after it, crisp and clear and alive.

Laughing and talking, the four walked down a few blocks. They had no destination in mind, but there was something to see around every corner. Even though Logan knew this city like the back of his hand, everything looked different in the dark.

“This is wonderful,” Patton breathed. His hand was intertwined with Virgil’s, and he was leaning slightly on Roman’s shoulder. ���Thank you guys.”

“No problem, Pop Star,” Virgil muttered fondly.

“Thank you!” Roman exclaimed. “It was your idea, after all.”

Logan opened his mouth to add something, but instead, he stayed silent. He had noticed, all of a sudden, that he was slightly apart and slightly behind the three of them. They walked like a single organism, intertwined and in-step. Logan was tacked on at the end, out of sync.

Not a fourth wheel, but a fourth point on a triangle. A fourth leg on a tripod. A fourth Musketeer. There was a fourth Musketeer, he vaguely remembered from English class, but he wasn’t important. He certainly wasn’t memorable.

The Rule of Three. Everything came in threes—heaven earth underworld, comedy tragedy history, reduce reuse recycle. Virgil-Roman-Patton.

So what if he was the fourth wheel? They wanted him here. They asked him to come. They were still his best friends.

Logan shook off the thoughts and walked faster, joining up with the others again. Conversation had moved on without him, and he struggled to get a sense of the discussion.

“Anywhere we want to go?” Roman was asking.

“I need more ramen,” Virgil said.

“We’re not going grocery shopping on a date—on Roman’s day,” Patton quickly amended. Logan ignored the stab he felt at those words. “And I can just cook some real noodles for you! You need to eat healthier food anyways.”

“Ramen is healthy,” Virgil grumbled.

Logan looked around and saw a bookstore nearby. It was one of his favorites, actually, and the lights were still on. They’d been there before, the four of them looking for birthday presents for each other, hiding books behind themselves and trying to clandestinely pay for them, finding strange books and funny books and books for kids and simply having fun. Patton squealing as Roman picked him up and deposited him on a beanbag, Virgil doing a dramatic reading of Fifty Shades of Grey, Logan purchasing a Ravenclaw robe and refusing to take it off. It was one of Logan’s favorite memories, and afterwards, he’d returned to the bookstore because when he closed his eyes, he could hear their laughter and watch Patton blush and Virgil smirk and Roman gasp and all of them together.

Logan opened his mouth to suggest they go to the bookstore, but Patton had already suggested something else, and Roman was pressing a kiss to Patton’s head and leading them on, and something was twisting in Logan’s throat. Something ugly, choking, white-hot. He remained silent.

Slowly, he drifted away.

Finally he was almost six feet behind them, watching them glow in the street lights, snatches of conversation and laughter drifting back to him. He watched Virgil shove Roman and Roman shove Virgil back, Patton inserting himself between the pair and chiding them.

Logan felt…he felt like something was clawing at his insides. He felt like his breath was labored, something jammed in his throat. He felt a terrible fire kindling in his stomach, and another burning sensation around his eyes. His mouth was dry and his hands were clenched so his knuckles showed white caps of bone.

This wasn’t feeling left-out. This wasn’t just feeling like a fourth wheel. It was something more.

Carefully, Logan peeled back the anger—was it anger? Just pain? Sadness? Fear? He didn’t know, he couldn’t tell, but something was definitely hurting, shattered and broken and piercing his veins.

It was want, crawling through him.

Of course. He wanted things to be normal, he wanted them to be friends without crashing a date every time he came with. He wanted time with them, he wanted—he wanted—

He wanted to be there, under the streetlights, as Patton shivered and Roman pulled his jacket off. Soon Patton was wearing it over the cardigan, a ridiculous combination that he managed to pull off. He wanted to be with them, not six feet behind, getting no glances or acknowledgments. He wanted to slot between them like a piece to their puzzle, feel Roman’s arm as it wrapped around Patton and Virgil, link hands with Patton like Virgil did with Roman, let Patton give a kiss to his cheek like—

Oh.

Oh.

Logan stopped dead on the sidewalk.

Oh, shit.

Frantically, he tried to think of another explanation for his feelings. But now that he’d admitted even a sliver of it to himself, a figurative dam broke in his mind. Hundreds of glances, touches, flutterings in the chest, suddenly made sense. Patton, Roman, Virgil, his best friends, who he’d spent years with. Patton’s smile, Virgil’s laugh, Roman’s voice—they were as much a part of Logan as his DNA.

He loved them. He always had.

But…he didn’t just love them as friends, did he?

Friends didn’t want to hold hands with other friends. Friends didn’t want to kiss other friends. Friends didn’t want to walk down a gleaming sidewalk at night, shoulders bumping together, steps all in sync.

Logan was still motionless. Lights glowed around him, but the world seemed blurry and off-kilter. He couldn’t feel the cold on his cheeks or the warmth of his scarf. He closed his eyes and opened them. The world was still disorientating, swimming around him, lights dancing like fish in the ocean.

Up ahead, Roman-Virgil-Patton had stopped at a crosswalk. After a few seconds, Virgil looked back, probably assuming Logan was a few steps behind them. Alarm crossed his face when he realized Logan was still standing in the center of the sidewalk.

Logan tried to shake some sense into himself as Virgil approached. He couldn’t just stand there! They’d get concerned! He took a wobbly step forward, then another. His feet seemed disconnected from his ankles.

“Lo?” Virgil asked. Roman and Patton were behind him, identical expressions of worry on their faces. “Everything okay?”

Logan opened his mouth to say he was fine, they should just continue. But did he want to keep walking with them? Did he want to keep crashing their night, keep staring at what he couldn’t have? They didn’t need him here, that much was obvious. He should just make it easy on them and leave of his own accord.

“I am adequate,” Logan said. “However, I have just realized it is later than I expected. Due to my classes tomorrow that necessitate an early rise, I must ask for permission to conclude this venture.”

Here he went with the overly complex words. Although Logan had a naturally sesquipedalian nature, he noticed a marked increase in long sentences when he was nervous. Hopefully the others would dismiss the verbal tic as ‘Logan being Logan.’

Patton checked his watch and gasped. “Oh my goodness, it is late! Almost ten o’clock already! I’m so sorry, Lolo!”

“It is no trouble,” Logan assured him. “It is only natural that you lost track of time.”

Virgil shrugged. “I guess that’s it, then? We can head back.”

“Aw, come on.” Roman pouted. It looked far less cute when he did it than Patton. “Can’t Specs miss one class for me? The night’s just getting started. Who cares about proper education when you could be with us?”

“My teachers,” Logan pointed out. “And myself.”

“Boo.”

“Now, now, Roman!” Patton waggled a gloved finger at his boyfriend. “You gotta respect Lolo’s decision. He’s his own person. And he was very kind to take the evening off to support you.”

“Ugh, fine.” Roman sighed. “Let’s go back.”

Logan frowned. Something tugged at his stomach when he thought about them ending their adventure early on his account. “You can continue on without me. I do not mind.”

“No, it’s okay!” Patton smiled. “It’s about time to turn in!”

“I insist,” Logan said. “I do not want your evening to conclude preemptively due to my own scheduling.”

“It won’t be the same without you,” Roman complained.

Logan couldn’t resist snapping back. “Somehow, I doubt that.”

Virgil and Patton glanced at each other. Fortunately, they decided not to comment. Virgil only said “Be careful walking home on your own. Text me when you get back.”

“I will. Thank you for your concern.” Logan stuffed his fingers in his pockets and turned away. “I hope you have a wonderful night.”

“Bye!” Patton called, waving frantically.

“Farewell!” Roman proclaimed.

Virgil gave his customary two-fingered salute.

Logan simply raised a hand in return, turning the corner and walking out of sight.

And the universe granted him a small boon—it began to rain, softly and gently on the concrete. Soon Logan was dripping wet, droplets sliding down his face.

When he began to cry, he knew no one could tell. His tears were hidden by the rain.

So Logan Mackenzie let himself cry.

                                                                                                                                Logan could not avoid the others. He lived with Virgil, after all, and Roman and Patton both loved attention and were intuitive enough to pinpoint when something was wrong. So Logan knew it was fruitless to try and push them away. They would only get suspicious, concerned, and hurt.

Still, illogical as he knew it was, he tried.

For three days he didn’t answer his phone. He didn’t speak with Roman or Patton. When Virgil knocked on his door or asked him questions, he fielded them with monosyllabic replies and assertions of “Everything is fine, I am just caught up with studying.” Virgil didn’t buy it—of course, of course he didn’t buy it, he was so smart and perceptive and that was one of the millions of reasons Logan loved him, and here he went down that rabbit hole again.

It was like realizing his feelings had opened a figurative floodgate. Roman, Patton, and Virgil were on his mind all the time. He drank coffee and was reminded of Roman’s cocoa. He wrestled with math equations and remembered tutoring Virgil in high school. He closed his eyes at night and thought of Patton, curled up by his side.

Logan couldn’t take it.

Once in a while he checked his phone. The long lines of worried texts from Patton and Roman made something squeeze in his chest. He waited for them to inevitably peter out and stop. They didn’t.

They probably thought he was sick or dying or something. Hadn’t Virgil told them he was perfectly fine? Sure, they may have assumed he was suffering from some sort of emotional problem, but did that really deserve all this concern?

Finally, after a particularly desperate bout of texting around midnight, Logan wrote back. He kept it short and simple.

Lolo: In response to your queries, I am doing well. Please cease your attempts to contact me. Thank you.

Logan honestly didn’t expect them to write back. He’d given them an easy out from the situation. They no longer had to feel guilty about him and could go about their lives.

But—

Princey: WHAT

Pattoncake: Kiddo are u okay?

Princey: LOGAN WE’RE NOT GONNA STOP WHAT

Pattoncake: u know we love u, right?

Emo Nightmare: call me

Pattoncake: you’re our friend

Princey: YOU CAN’T JUST DO THAT

Emo Nightmare: logan please call me

Emo Nightmare: now

Logan swallowed. Slowly, he dialed Virgil’s number.

Virgil picked up on the first ring. “Dude, what the hell?”

“I—”

“No. Shut up. I’m going to keep talking.” Virgil paused and sighed. “L…we’re really worried about you.”

“Where are you?” Logan asked.

“Ro and Pat’s.”

Logan bit his lip. “Of course.”

“I can come home.” A loud rustling sounded from Virgil’s end. “I’m putting on my jacket, I can be there in ten—”

“Not necessary, Virgil.” Logan ran his fingers through his hair. He’d prefer it if he didn’t have to see Virgil’s face at all, with the soft purple bangs hanging over his dark eyes and the light freckles he pretended he didn’t have and—

Off topic.

“I just…” Virgil’s voice was soft and concerned, and Logan cursed himself for making that worry appear. “This is so sudden, L. Did we do something? Are you mad?”

“I’m not mad!” Logan hastily said. “You didn’t do anything wrong.”

“Then what?” Virgil asked. “I…look, L, if we made you feel—uncomfortable, or anything, I’m sorry…”

“Uncomfortable?”

“You seemed pretty out-of-it when we celebrated with Roman, I guess I just assumed.” Virgil paused. “You’re my friend too, and I care about you. No matter if I’m dating you or not.”

“Right.” Logan swallowed. “What about Patton and Roman?”

“What about them?” Virgil asked incredulously. “They’ve been texting you frantically for the past three days, Patton’s stressbaked enough food to end world hunger twice over, and Roman’s temper is on a hair trigger. You really think they don’t feel the same way I do?”

Logan ran his thumb across his phone case. “No, I—”

“You what, L?” Virgil’s voice dropped. “Please. I’m worried about you. Just…talk to me.”

What could Logan say? That he suddenly realized he had been harboring crushes on his three best friends for perhaps a year and a half? That he didn’t want to see them again because it would only deepen the infatuation and he was bound to give himself away or look like a fool? That he didn’t want to make his friends uncomfortable, because it would be nothing but awkward if the truth did come to light?

“It’s complicated.” Logan sighed. “I…I have a few things I need to figure out, Virgil. Just…can you give me some more time? A week?” That wouldn’t be enough time to suffocate his affections entirely, but it could allow him to think of a better game plan. “Stay at Patton and Roman’s apartment for a while. I know you do that often anyway. I just…I need some time alone.”

Virgil was silent for a few seconds. “Can you promise Patton’s three rules? You’re not hurting anyone, no one’s hurting you, you’re not hurting yourself?”

Logan channeled all his certainty into his voice. “No one is being harmed. This is not a matter of such grave importance. It is just an—identity issue.”

“Well, alright. If you say you need it.” Virgil didn’t sound fully convinced. “You can always call me or Pat, okay? There’s extra food in the freezer, make sure you have your full meals and go to bed at a reasonable time, okay?”

“Virgil, it is currently one in the morning.”

Virgil paused. “Huh. So it is.”

Logan clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his laughter.

“Whatever. My point still stands. Go to bed.” Logan could almost hear Virgil’s smirk. “Always keeping me on my toes, aren’t you, L?”

“You don’t need any help with that,” Logan said.

“True, I’ve got the anxiety.” Virgil clicked his tongue. “So…well…I guess that’s that, then? Call me anytime, eat your veggies, brush your teeth, listen to your parents?”

Logan huffed. “I should be telling you that instead.”

“Shut up,” Virgil said. “You’ll be okay?”

“I…” Logan hesitated. “I hope so.”

“Me too,” Virgil muttered. “Because I love Patton’s baking, I promise, but I’ve eaten more cookies than should be humanly possible. I don’t think my hoodie will fit anymore.”

Logan laughed again. “I will take that into account.”

“All right.” Virgil’s voice dipped. “Love you, L.”

It was a simple phrase. They said it all the time, platonically. It was a way of expressing affection, and although Logan had trouble verbalizing feelings and Virgil had trouble showing emotional vulnerability, they had both gotten better at the phrase over the years. It slipped out easily now, with barely a second thought. Of course he loved Virgil. And Patton and Roman.

But in light of recent revelations, even such a simple phrase made Logan’s heart simultaneously speed up and stop altogether. These cardiopulmonary abnormalities were highly irritating.

“I…” Logan’s mouth was dry. “Thank you, Virgil.”

Before Virgil could respond, he tapped the End Call button and tossed his phone on the desk, closing his eyes and rubbing his hand down his nose. That was a disastrous phone call if he’d ever participated in one.

At least he got a week to figure things out. Perhaps he could find a way to hide his feelings or better yet, get rid of them altogether. Perhaps he could land a job in Tokyo and move across the world and never have to face them again.

Perhaps he was being a tad dramatic.

A week without the others. This would be good for him, he told himself. He would enjoy it. It didn’t matter that he found himself dreading a week without Virgil’s dry sarcasm and tendency to sit everywhere except on chairs, Roman’s incessant singing of Disney songs and inability to remember history if it wasn’t events in Hamilton or Les Miserables, or Patton’s favorite cat hoodie and his weekly “experiment” meals where he added lots of cumin or onion to a dish and the others had to taste the aftermath. It didn’t matter that he would eat alone, do his homework alone, watch movies alone. That was exactly what he wanted.

Suddenly, the apartment felt very empty.

Logan turned off his lights, changed into his pajamas, and tucked himself into bed. It was a long time before he slept.

He did not spend a week alone.

He spent the first four days of the week alone, burying himself in his studies and rereading Murder on the Orient Express whenever he got too bored. Despite his promise to Virgil, he stayed up later and later and mostly ate energy bars, leftover ramen, and a few strawberries from a jumbo pack of strawberries Patton had bought. Virgil did not call or text him. Roman called him once, leaving a voicemail that said “Is the Mona Lisa only famous because it was stolen? Virgil and I disagree on the matter.” Logan did not call him back.

Patton kept texting him, however. Perhaps Virgil hadn’t explained that Logan wanted to be left alone, or perhaps Patton had simply disregarded the instructions entirely. Whatever the case, Patton continued to send him Patton Texts™ at random times. A Patton Text™ was a text sent with the express purpose of cheering someone up, usually consisting of a cute animal picture, a clean meme, a fun news story, a dad joke, or, occasionally, a dirty meme. Patton Texts™ didn’t require a response, a purpose, or any sort of context. They just existed. It was, Logan had to admit, rather sweet.

On the fourth day, Logan woke up to a photo of a kitten with its head stuck inside a box, a horrible pun (What do you call a country where everyone drives a pink automobile? A pink carnation!) and a reminder that he needed to ‘TAKE CARE OF YOURSELF OR I WILL PHYSICALLY FIGHT U.’ Throughout the day, Patton sent him several cute cat videos. Despite himself, Logan always paused and watched them.

One part of him whispered that Patton only watched cat videos when he was sad. Logan tried his best to ignore that part.

It was late that evening when he got a text. Assuming it was another Patton Text™, Logan paused the documentary he was watching and pulled out his phone. However, it wasn’t Patton. It was a direct text from Virgil.

Virgil Conroy: L call me

Logan frowned. Why was Virgil contacting him? He had promised to respect his wishes. He wouldn’t text him unless—

Unless something was seriously wrong.

Quickly dialing Virgil’s number, Logan sprung up from the couch and tugged on his shoes.

It took five rings for Virgil to respond. When Logan said “Hello?” he got no answer.

“Virgil?” Logan asked. Listening closely, he could hear Virgil’s breathing. It was far too fast and frantic. In the distance, there was a loud thud, then another. Virgil began to breathe even faster.

“Virgil, can I assume you are suffering from an anxiety attack?”

There was no response.

“Virgil.” Logan grabbed his keys and dashed out the door, practically flying down the steps. “Tap the phone once for no and twice for yes.”

A pause, then a hesitant tap. Then another.

“Okay.” Logan walked down the sidewalk, weaving around people and taking the crosswalks at a run. “Can you breathe for me? In for 4, hold for 7, out for 8?”

A shuddering, deep breath. Logan started counting, still going as fast as he could. He barely needed to focus on the route—he knew the way to Patton’s apartment as well as the way to his own.

“You’re doing so great,” Logan said, rounding a corner. “You’re doing wonderfully, Virgil. Can you tell me five things you can see?”

“Um—” Virgil’s voice was shaky. “Uh, floor. Bed. My…my Nightmare Before Christmas posters. Window. Door.”

“Good. Four things you can feel?”

“Hoodie.” Virgil swallowed. “Floor. H-hair. Um…tears?”

“Okay.” Logan watched the traffic lights and bolted for the other side as soon as the walk signal glowed white. “Three things you can hear.”

“Traffic outside. B-birds.” Virgil sniffed. “Roman throwing stuff in the bedroom.”

That wasn’t good. Logan kept his voice level. “Two things you can smell?”

“Popcorn and burnt cookies?”

“And one thing you can taste.”

Virgil sighed. “Popcorn.”

“Great.” Logan slowed down as a mass of people crowded past him. “How do you feel?”

“N-not great, L. Obviously.” Virgil chuckled. “Um. Sorry for texting you, it was on instinct, I know you didn’t want to be bothered—”

“It is no trouble,” Logan insisted. “Your wellbeing is extremely important to me and I am glad I could assist.”

“Huh.”

“Virgil?” Logan asked.

“Yeah?”

“You do not have to, but…could you tell me what happened?”

Logan heard Virgil shift. “Argument,” he finally said. “Bad one.”

“Oh.”

“Ro and Pat were yelling a lot. I think Pat started crying. He’s in the bathroom now, I wanted to help him but all the yelling set me off, and—”

“Take a deep breath,” Logan said. “You did everything you could. Taking care of yourself is important, and you were very brave in reaching out. I’m—I’m proud of you.”

A siren wailed next to Logan as he jogged down the sidewalk. He was only a minute from Virgil’s apartment now.

“What was that?” Virgil asked.

“Siren.”

“Wh—” Virgil paused. “L, where are you?”

“I—” Logan looked around. “Oak Street?”

“Why on earth are you—”

“Give me a second, all right?” Logan pulled the phone from his ear. “I’ll talk in a second.”

Then he ran, leaping over cracks in the sidewalk and hurtling past trees, ignoring the confused looks of bystanders. The streetlights flashed above him, the sidewalk sparkling in the neon glow. Cars raced past him, careening through the night, headlights illuminating the haze. The windows and doors of the city rowhomes blurred together.

Finally, Logan skidded to a stop and climbed up the stairs to a brownstone at the end of the road. Slipping his hand under the small dog statue, he grabbed the key and turned it in the lock. The hallway was empty as he crept past the downstairs apartments, taking the stairs two at a time.

Patton’s apartment was unlocked. Logan didn’t bother knocking. The living room was empty, the TV still playing a paused scene from Lilo & Stitch, an abandoned popcorn bowl and pile of blankets on the couch. The kitchen lights were on, a few cookies left on the stove. The bathroom and bedroom doors were closed. A loud thump came from the bedroom on the far side. It sounded like someone punching a pillow, and indeed, that was probably the cause.

Logan pulled out his phone again. Talking quietly so as not to disturb anyone, he asked Virgil, “You’re in the bedroom?”

“Yeah—”

Logan walked forward and knocked on the bedroom door.

There was shuffling behind it, Virgil muttered “Just a sec,” and the door was opened. Virgil stood there, hoodie half-fallen from his shoulders, eyes red and hair mussed. He looked Logan up and down, mouth falling open.

“Did you—run here?”

Logan shrugged. Now that he was standing still, he realized how out-of-breath he was. “Yes.”

“I…” Virgil stared at him. “Wow.”

“You…” Logan reached out. “May I touch you?”

“Yeah.”

Logan placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder. “How do you feel now?”

“Better.” Virgil fidgeted with the sleeve of his hoodie, but Logan noticed he leaned into the touch. “Definitely calmer. I—hearing your voice helped.”

“I’m glad I could assist.” Logan pressed a thumb gently into Virgil’s back. “Can I get you some tea? You can sit on the couch while I make it, maybe listen to some music?”

Virgil paused and nodded.

“Good.” Logan led Virgil to the couch and gave him a few of the blankets and pillows. Virgil rolled his eyes but dutifully cozied up in the corner. Logan spared a moment to appreciate the adorableness of Virgil curled up like a burrito, pulling on his headphones, before he was off to the kitchen and brewing some tea. Chamomile, he decided, would be just the thing. As the water boiled, he pulled out his phone again and texted Patton.

Lolo <3: Patton, could you come out of the bathroom? I am making Virgil some tea and I assume you could benefit from it as well.

After a minute, his phone vibrated with a response.

Patton O’Rourke: ur here????

Patton O’Rourke: I thought u were havin alone time

Lolo <3: Circumstances change. Please emerge whenever you are comfortable.

Logan returned to the tea, finding four mugs and setting them out. Behind him, he heard a door creak open. Without turning around, he said, “Hello, Patton.”

“H-hey, Lolo.” Patton shuffled forward. “I can help with the tea.”

“That is fine,” Logan said, shooting Patton a reassuring smile. “Thank you for the offer, but I would rather you just sit with Virgil. I’m sure he’d love the company.”

Patton looked apprehensively at Virgil, as if afraid he would deny it. Virgil gave Patton a small wave and scooted over on the couch. Patton delicately sat on the other end, clutching his hoodie.

Soon the teapot whistled and Logan poured the tea into the four mugs. Bringing three of them to the couch, he handed one to Virgil and one to Patton. The third he placed on the coffee table.

“Is that for you?” Patton asked.

“Roman.”

Virgil gave Logan a disbelieving look. “He’s been throwing shit around for the past half an hour. You’re not getting him out for tea, dude.”

“Not immediately, no.” Logan sat on the floor across from them. “Drink. It’ll help.”

Virgil sipped at his tea. Patton stared into the mug and didn’t move.

“Patton?” Logan reached forward and placed a hand on his leg. “Would you like to talk?”

“I—” Patton clenched his teeth. “No, I—I’m fine—”

“Patton.” Logan stood up again and sat next to Patton on the couch. “You just went through an upsetting situation and many harsh words may have been exchanged. It is perfectly reasonable—in fact, it is encouraged—to react and experience emotions about this event.”

Patton shivered. “I—”

“Would you like me to hug you?”

Patton paused and nodded.

Logan carefully placed an arm around Patton’s shoulders, taking the mug of chamomile tea from his hand. Virgil politely avoided staring as Patton fell into Logan’s side, burying his face in Logan’s shirt. His shoulders began to shake, and Logan heard him start to cry.

Tilting himself carefully, Logan pulled Patton into his lap and placed a hand behind his head. One traitorous part of himself noticed how close they were, but Logan successfully shunned it. Patton seemed very small in his arms.

“Thank you, Patton,” Logan murmured.

Patton hiccupped. “F-for what?”

“For crying. It sounds like you need this, and I’m proud of your ability to release your emotions.”

“Sure.” Patton laughed bitterly into Logan’s chest. “You’re proud of the fact I can cry. That says a lot about me, doesn’t it?”

“Yes, but that is not necessarily a negative thing.” Logan reached over and began stroking Patton’s hair. “You have struggled with this in the past, and for you, this is an achievement. That doesn’t mean you’re lesser than anyone else. Your problems are your problems. Everyone has issues with some things.” Logan smiled. “Look at me, for instance.”

“If you—” Patton sniffled. “Talk bad…I will fight…”

“I know.” On instinct, Logan leaned forward and placed a kiss on Patton’s forehead. “Why don’t we leave that for later, okay? For now, do you think you could give Virgil a turn? Though I love cuddling with you, I need to check on Roman.”

Patton didn’t move. “Virgil…don’t wanna…wanna bother…”

“He’s right here, Patton.” Logan glanced at Virgil, who was still pointedly giving them space. “I’m sure he wouldn’t mind.”

“He…” Patton hiccupped again. “Is he mad?”

“What?” Virgil gave up on pretending to ignore them. “Pat, no!”

“I know we…we were really loud…” Patton began to cry again. “And you got upset, and I couldn’t check on you…and I w-would understand if you h-hated me, we w-were s-stupid…I-I…”

Virgil looked shocked. “God, Pat, are you kidding? I couldn’t hate you!”

Patton simply cried louder.

“Can I…?” Virgil motioned to Patton, and Logan carefully uncurled Patton’s arms from his torso and shifted him down the couch to Virgil. Virgil reached out and Patton immediately collapsed into him, tucking his head into Virgil’s shoulder.

“Oh, Pat.” Virgil rubbed Patton’s back. “You made a mistake, but that’s okay. I’m not mad. I could never be mad at you, you’re the best fucking boyfriend ever. Don’t tell Roman.”

Patton looked up and gave a watery chuckle. “L-language, kiddo.”

“There he is. There’s my favorite Pat.” Virgil smiled softly and wiped a tear from Patton’s face. “I love you, okay?”

Patton smiled back and snuggled into Virgil’s hoodie. “Love you too.”

Logan quickly looked away, ignoring the rush of emotions in his stomach. Getting to his feet, he took the final mug from the coffee table and headed to the bedroom. The door was locked and he could hear nothing behind it.

Logan knocked on the door. “Roman?”

No response.

“Roman, could you please open the door?”

After a pause, someone mumbled “Go ‘way, Virgil.”

“This is not Virgil,” Logan said. “This is Logan.”

He jumped out of the way as the door flew open. Roman stood there, pajamas rumpled and eyes red, looking at Logan like he was the reincarnation of Nikola Tesla.

“Where—” Roman closed his eyes and opened them again. “When did you get here?”

“A few minutes ago. Virgil texted me.” Logan held out the mug. “Would you like some tea?”

Roman squinted suspiciously at the tea. “What kind?”

“Chamomile. I thought it would help calm everyone down.”

“Oh, that’s my favorite—” Abruptly, Roman shook his head. “No! I’m mad at you!”

“You are?” Logan kept his voice level.

“Yeah!”

“I was unaware.” Logan glanced towards Patton and Virgil, but they didn’t seem disturbed by the yelling. Virgil had slipped his headphones over Patton’s ears and was watching him fondly. “Why are you angry with me?”

Roman folded his arms and his face flushed. “’Cause you’re a fucking asshole!”

Logan raised an eyebrow. “Interesting. Why do you think of me this way?”

“Don’t give me that sarcastic shit.”

“I was not intending to be sarcastic.” Logan waved a hand at himself. “You know I am not the best with sarcasm.”

“Shut up!”

Logan mimed zipping his lips and tossing the figurative key.

Roman rubbed his eyes. “You just waltz in here after like eternity days and knock on my door like ‘Hey what’s up remember me I exist.’ Like, what the fuck, Specs?”

“Unless I was mistaken, you agreed to the temporary separation,” Logan said. “Could you explain why it upset you?”

“I’m not upset!” Roman snapped. “I’m pissed! Can’t you tell?”

Logan looked at the tear tracks running down Roman’s face and his angry red snarl. “The two things are not mutually exclusive.”

“Get out of here with your science talk!” Roman growled. “Actually, hey, good idea! Get the fuck out in general. Leave.”

“Patton and Virgil wish me to be here,” Logan said, taking a deep breath and retaining his calm tone. Getting exercised would do no one any good. “Unless you have a solid reason for my departure, I shall remain.”

Roman frowned and violently scrubbed at his eyes. “I don’t want you here.”

“I’ve gathered.” Logan clasped the mug of tea in both hands, steam warming his fingers. “I understand your feelings about the situation. But I would like to understand the cause better. Why did my abstaining from social contact upset you?”

“’Cause you can’t just do that!” Roman burst out. “You can’t just up and walk out of the friend group! It’s not a normal thing to do!”

“Were you worried about me?” Logan asked. “Were you worried about my emotional or physical wellbeing? You should know that if something was seriously wrong, I would always tell you and the others.”

“I know, I—” Roman sighed. “I just—it came out of nowhere.” His voice tightened. “And what am I supposed to think? That you suddenly decided you wanted to be a hermit?” Roman’s hands balled into a fist. “I just don’t get it! If I did something wrong, have the fucking decency to admit it to my face!”

The last sentence was almost a shout. Virgil looked over at Logan, concern in his eyes. Logan gave him a reassuring nod before turning back to Roman, who looked about to throw something.

“Is that the problem?” Logan asked. “Do you think it was your actions that led to the situation?”

Roman glared at him.

“It wasn’t your fault, Roman.” Logan took a step forward, and Roman’s hands dug into the doorframe. “It was a personal issue of mine and I should have conveyed that better.”

Roman’s glare deepened.

“Is that what led to the argument?” Logan murmured. “Because you don’t need to stake your personal worth on my actions. I currently, and have always, considered you an amiable companion and a wonderful friend.”

Something in Roman’s expression broke.

Logan carefully set the mug down on the carpet. “Roman, would you like a hug?”

Roman eyed him warily. Logan opened his arms.

Roman rocketed into his grasp, grabbing at his shirt and burying his face in Logan’s shoulder.

“Alright. Alright.” Taking a page out of Virgil’s book, Logan rubbed circles on Roman’s back. “I have you, okay? I’ve got you.”

“I—” Roman’s voice choked up, and now he was crying. He cried differently than Patton, loudly and almost dramatically. “I—I th-thought you decided you d-didn’t like us anymore—I thought I—d-did something—you f-finally got t-tired of me—”

“I could never get tired of you,” Logan said. “Who else can debate about iambic pentameter with me? Patton still thinks it’s a weird flavor of ice cream.”

Roman gave a choked laugh that soon dissolved into more sobs.

“I love you,” Logan said, ignoring the flip in his stomach. “I love you, Roman. I love all of you.” His heart ached to leave it there, but his traitorous mouth added “You are my best friends.”

Roman’s hands squeezed tighter around Logan’s waist. Logan slipped one of his hands under Roman’s and grasped it lightly.

“Do you want to go to the couch now?” Logan asked. “You are rather heavy and I feel we could best continue this hug sitting down and perhaps with your boyfriends.”

Roman froze. “I don’t wanna.”

“Are you worried they’ll be mad at you?”

The way Roman pressed his face into Logan’s shoulder was answer enough.

“Virgil! Patton!” Logan called. Virgil looked over and Patton took off his headphones. “Roman has something he would like to say to you.”

“I d-do?”

“Yes.” Logan pulled his chin up. “You will apologize, and they will forgive you. Then you can cuddle together.”

“I—” Roman glanced at the others. “I—Pat? Virge?”

“Yeah, kiddo?”

“I—” His face crumpled. “I’m so sorry, I—I got insecure and I was mean to you and I love you, I love you so much, I’m so sorry—”

Patton smiled. “I love you too, Ro. I forgive you—if you’ll forgive me?”

Roman wiped his eyes. “Of course.”

Virgil gave him a half smile. “It’s alright, Princey. I’m an idiot sometimes too.”

“C’mon over!” Patton added. “There’s more than enough room.”

Logan nodded, picking the mug back up and placing it in Roman’s hand. “Go ahead.”

With a grateful glance, Roman shuffled over to the couch. Patton held out an arm and Roman fell next to him, cuddling into his side. Virgil smiled and took Roman’s hand.

Logan spared a moment to watch them curl closer—they were so sweet—then walked over to the TV.

“You’ll probably be tired,” he said, grabbing the remote and closing Lilo & Stitch. “So we should put on something relaxing so you can fall asleep. Do you want to try a nature documentary? I find them quite calming in times of distress, as long as we choose to avoid the parts about global warming. Here’s an episode about lemurs. Would you like to watch that?”

Patton nodded, already dozing off in Virgil’s arms. Roman gave Logan a thumbs up.

Logan started the player. “Okay. Since you’ll be falling asleep here, we should minimize the uncomfortable nature of the couch.” He walked down the hallway and opened the linen closet, bringing back some extra blankets, comforters, and pillows. “Feel free to use these. If Virgil wishes, I can bring him anything he needs from our apartment. I’m aware you already have your headphones, but do you want your weighted blanket?”

Virgil paused and shook his head.

“Alright, thank you for clarifying.” Logan turned down the brightness of the TV. “That won’t hurt your eyes as much—Patton, take off your glasses, there you go—and I can turn off the lights throughout the apartment and lock the door on the way out. Is there anything else you need?”

Roman took a sip of tea, pulling a blanket over his legs. “Um, I think we’re good, Specs.”

“Lolo?” Patton shifted, hair covering his face. “Can I—um, I’d like—”

Logan smiled. “Let me guess. Your panda pillow?”

Patton smiled back.

“Of course. I’ll be right back.” Logan walked into Patton’s bedroom and took the soft panda pillow from the bed. Patton immediately brightened when he saw it and tucked it under his head, nestling into place with a soft sigh. The three of them were entangled now, legs intertwined. Patton rested on Virgil’s shoulder, Roman curled into Patton’s side, and Virgil’s arm stretched across the back of the sofa so he could hold hands with Roman.

“Is everyone all set to go?”

Roman sleepily nodded. The TV showed lemurs hopping back and forth. Virgil’s headphones were on again, his eyes trained on the screen.

“Good.” Logan turned off the kitchen lights and closed the open doors. “Then I will be going. I hope you have a pleasant rest and you can call me if you need me.”

Patton shifted, frowning. “You’re…leaving?”

“Well, yes.” Logan pressed his lips together. “The problem is concluded to the best of my ability, so I assumed I would take my leave.”

Virgil met his eyes. “Stay? Please?”

Heat seared across Logan’s face as Patton reached out and made little grabby hands.

Sighing—he couldn’t tell them no, he knew that, it was a physically impossible concept when they were so sleepy and soft and adorable and Newton was he hopeless—Logan moved back over and carefully placed his glasses on the coffee table. Patton tugged him into the pile of blankets, and after a few moments of maneuvering, Logan was secured firmly in the middle of the couch. On his left, Patton cuddled up to him, pressing into his shoulder and humming with contentment. Roman wrapped an arm around his shoulders and Virgil gave Logan’s hair a ruffle. On the screen, the narrator talked about the eating habits of lemurs. Everything was a blur without his glasses. The blankets and pillows were soft and warm and heavy. Patton was breathing slowly, his hair rustling with each exhale. Roman was watching the lemurs, a small smile on his face. Virgil closed his eyes and bobbed his head to his music.

Logan hadn’t realized how tired he was. It was probably the lack of sleep and his ruined circadian rhythms. Definitely not the comforting weight of others near him, reminding him that he was safe, not alone, loved.

Closing his eyes, Logan succumbed to sleep.

                                                                                                                               Logan wasn’t really awake.

He wasn’t asleep either, because he could hear Virgil shift and the strains of the credit sequence for the TV show—it wasn’t the same show he’d left on, he noticed, so time must have passed. But he was tired, and warm, and happy, and he didn’t want to open his eyes. He just wanted to sink back into sleep. The blankets were heavy around him, something soft was under his head, a comforting weight in his hair and oh, it was moving, someone was scratching his head, why hadn’t he tried this before it felt absolutely heavenly—

The fingers pressed into his scalp and Logan whined, leaning into the touch. When was the last time he let someone near him? He’d started refusing hugs a while ago after the three of them started dating. He didn’t realize he missed it so much.

Someone chuckled above him. “You’re so adorable when you’re sleeping.”

“Who’s adorable?” said another sleepy voice.

“Look at Logan.”

A muffled squeal came from his left. “Aww, he’s all curled up!”

“Watch this,” Roman said—that was Roman, right? Oh no, was he cuddling with Roman? He needed to wake up, he needed to stop being in this compromising position—

Roman was scratching his head again, and all coherent and rational thought flew out the figurative window.

Logan whined again. He couldn’t help himself. Patton squealed even louder. “He’s so adorable!”

“I know, right?” Roman’s voice was softer than Logan had ever heard, except maybe when addressing Virgil or Patton. “He’s the cutest.”

“And so helpful,” Patton added. “We need to thank him later, guys. Like, serious surprise party thank-you cookies and fun-times thank you.”

“He fixed everything, didn’t he? He knew exactly how to help.” Roman shifted, and before Logan knew it, he’d gotten a small kiss on the bridge of his nose. “Thanks for everything, you amazing little nerd.”

“Yeah,” Virgil said. Right—Virgil. Virgil was there. His voice was hoarse with sleep. “I don’t know what we’d do without him—”

Virgil paused.

“Kiddo?” Patton asked. “You alright?”

“Shit.”

“What?” Roman asked, jostling Logan. “What’s wrong?”

“I—” Virgil hesitated. “I think I figured something out.”

“What is it?” Patton asked.

And Logan tried to prick his ears for the answer, but sleep overcame him again, and he fell into darkness with Roman holding him upright.

                                                                                                                               Logan needed coffee.

Extricating himself from the blankets, he saw that Virgil, Patton, and Roman had already left the couch and were discussing something in one corner of the kitchen. Blearily, he wiped his eyes and placed his glasses on his face. The sharper focus revealed a pensive look on Virgil’s face, an excited look on Patton’s, and a nervous look on Roman’s.

Logan stumbled to his feet and headed for the coffee maker. Their conversation was none of his business. He also had a vague memory of cuddling up to Roman, which made his face flush every time he recalled it, so he would rather avoid talking to them until the embarrassment wore off.

The conversation abruptly stopped when Logan approached. That was odd, but Logan was too sleepy to remark on it. Wow, was it nine o’clock already? Good thing he had no classes until three.

Filling a mug with coffee, he downed a few mouthfuls and felt the caffeine buzz through him. Feeling more awake, he turned to the others, only to find they were staring at him.

“What?” he asked self-consciously. He touched his hair to see if it was mussed. It was. He combed it roughly with his fingers, but a few locks still stuck up in the air.

“Um—” Roman squeaked. “Nothing!”

“Do I have something on my face?” Logan looked between Patton, who had a sheepish grin, Roman, who was blushing furiously, and Virgil, who stared at the ground. “What is happening?”

“Just tell him how you feel,” Virgil muttered to himself, clenching his fists. “There’s no good reason not to.”

“What?” Logan placed his coffee on the counter. “Is everything alright? Is there a problem?”

“L?” Virgil glanced at the others, who gave him encouraging glances. “I—we. We need to tell you something.”

“Yes?”

“Well.” Virgil fiddled with his jacket. “I guess I’ll just spit it out then? I…we…why did you make me do this, guys? I’m terrible at it!”

Roman snorted. “Well, I’m certainly not doing it!”

“You can do this, kiddo.” Patton smiled at Virgil. “We’ve got your back.”

“Take your time, Virgil.” Logan looked at him with concern. “There’s no pressure.”

“I just—” Virgil screwed his eyes shut. “I don’t want this to ruin anything.”

“I doubt it would ruin anything,” Logan said. “Unless you’ve committed a serious felony or have secretly been a flat-earther this entire time, I think our relationship will survive.”

Roman snickered.

“Right. Okay.” Virgil bit his lip. “Well. On the subject of—relationships…”

Logan nodded and ignored the jolt that passed through his subjects.

“It’s like a Band-Aid, you’ve just got to rip it off.” Virgil clenched his fists. “Weallfiguredoutwekindasortalikeyoumorethanafriend!”

Logan blinked. “What?”

“We like you,” Patton clarified. “Romantically.”

“Oh, there you are,” Virgil mumbled, eyes still closed. “You couldn’t have stepped in earlier?”

Logan’s brain seemed to have short-circuited. Logan.exe had crashed. “What?”

“I don’t know how we could make it clearer, Specs.” Roman was smiling, but his tone betrayed a hint of nervousness. “You’re cute and we wanna date you.”

“Only if you want to!” Patton added hastily. “We don’t want to pressure you into anything and I know you probably don’t think of us that way, or at least not all of us, but we thought we should clear the air and admit it.”

Logan opened his mouth and closed it.

“So…” Virgil shifted. “Yeah, L. What they said.”

Finally, Logan found his voice. “How long?”

“What?” Patton asked.

“How long have you…felt this way?”

Roman laughed. “About two years? I fell for you when I fell for the others. It was all three of you at once—a triple-whammy crush cavalcade, if you will. It was a nightmare.”

“Two years?” Logan repeated. “Why didn’t you mention it?”

“I felt awkward about it.” Roman shrugged, looking away. “And you made it very clear you didn’t like me back.”

Hell no. I would never want to date you. You’re just not my type.

Shit.

“I started more recently, I think?” Patton tapped his chin. “Soon after Roman and Virgil and I started dating. It was lovely, but I always felt like something—someone—was missing.” He shot Logan a soft smile. “Turns out it was you, Lolo.”

“I…er, I only figured it out last night.” Virgil shrugged sheepishly. “But yeah. For a while, probably. Maybe even before Roman. You’ve just—you’ve always been there, constant, and…I guess I never knew how much I relied on that. I—yeah. You’re—yeah.” He rubbed his blushing face. “Sorry, I’m—I’m bad with words.”

Logan tried to wrangle his thoughts into a coherent sentence, but his cheeks were burning, his chest was flaming, and his eyes were stinging.

“So that’s that, I guess?” Roman rubbed at his arm. “You don’t—you don’t have to like us back, dude. We just wanted to get that out in the open. Like you advised, I guess.”

“Yeah,” Patton agreed with a smile. “Can you imagine if we just bottled up our feelings and avoided the situation altogether? You’d be very disappointed in us, Lolo.”

Logan stared at him. Laughter bubbled up in his throat, and before he could stop himself, he began to chuckle.

“What is it?” Roman asked.

Logan shook his head, laughing harder. He grabbed onto the counter for support as he cracked up. His eyes were leaking fluid now as he doubled over.

“What happened?” Virgil asked. “L, you good?”

“I—give me a sec—” Logan tried to pull himself together, but soon he lost it again. “I—the irony, I can’t believe this—”

“Um…” Roman frowned. “Much as I hate to interrupt a laugh session, especially because this is undeniably endearing, could you enlighten us on the cause of this ruckus? Or have you just gone full Joker?”

“I-I’m fine—” Logan kept laughing, rubbing at his eyes.

“Uh, you sure, kiddo?” Patton said, his voice far too concerned for the situation. “’Cause, um, you’re—"

A tear slipped down his face, and oh. He wasn’t laughing anymore. He was crying.

“L?” Virgil asked.

Logan was crying openly now. He covered his face with his sleeve and tried to wipe away the tears, but whenever one dried, another fell. His face felt hot and sick and disgusting. He wanted to stop crying, to stop looking so foolish in front of them, but his breath refused to be caught and his crying refused to cease.

He didn’t even know why he was crying. This was good news! There was nothing to be sad about!

“Lo?” Patton stepped forward, arms open. “Do you need a hug? It looks like you need a hug.”

Logan couldn’t speak, but he managed a nod.

And Patton was hugging him, cradling him against his chest and the contact just made Logan cry harder because this is what he could have had, this is what he was missing—

“I’m an idiot,” Logan choked out. “I am a complete, foolish idiot.”

“What?” Roman asked. “How dare you slander yourself like this! I don’t quite know why you’re saying that, or why you started crying, but I can assure you that you are a very smart human!”

“You don’t get it.” Logan wiped his eyes. For some reason, he was still smiling. Was he happy? Were these happy tears? He felt terrible, but there was a glow in his chest and he couldn’t stop smiling.

“What don’t we get?” Patton asked, squeezing his shoulders.

“I—” Logan looked around at them all, concerned and compassionate and beautiful. “I’ve been in love with the three of you for more than a year.”

Roman made a noise like a squeaky toy being stepped on.

“What?” Virgil stared him down. “You’re kidding.”

Weakly, Logan shook his head.

“But…” Patton frowned. “Lolo, you got us all together!”

“Y-yes.” Logan scrubbed his face. “You seemed happy with each other, I was glad to play the figurative matchmaker if it was what you wanted.”

Patton pressed a hand to his mouth, eyes wide.

“Shit, L.” Virgil shook his head. “Shit.”

“What did we do to deserve you?” Roman mumbled.

“In fairness,” Logan said, “I only figured it out last week.”

“A-at Roman’s evening?” Patton looked about to cry as well. “I—I thought you were acting off, I didn’t realize—”

“That’s why you avoided us, wasn’t it?” Roman seemed to search Logan’s face for denial. When he found none, his face crumpled. “You avoided us because you liked us?”

“I—I did not want things to become awkward between us. I wanted time to sort things out and see if those feelings would—” Logan waved a hand. “Dissipate of their own accord. But I was too far gone, and I—then you called me, and I couldn’t leave you alone, I couldn’t—”

“Shit,” Virgil said again.

“You know,” Patton said with a soft smile, “if you’d have just taken your own smart advice, we could have started dating weeks ago. Maybe even months.”

“Doubtful,” Logan admitted. “Feelings are not my strong suit. I would not have figured it out any earlier than I did.”

“And that’s okay.” Virgil reached forward and took Logan’s hand. “You’re doing alright, L. Better than alright.”

“You got us together, after all!” Roman agreed. “Even if that was unnecessarily self-sacrificing on your part. And you helped us last night, too. I suppose only one question remains…”

“Will you,” Patton finished, “consider being our boyfriend?”

“You don’t have to,” Virgil immediately added. “If you don’t feel ready, or you want to try dating one of us at a time, that’s completely fine—”

Logan began to smile. “I—I think I can give it a shot. All of you. I want to engage in romantic relations with you. If—if that’s alright.”

Patton squealed, and Roman’s smile was wider than Logan had ever seen it. Virgil just squeezed Logan’s hand, and Logan squeezed back.

“Group hug time!” Patton proclaimed.

“Don’t we have to eat breakfast?” Logan asked.

“Oh!” Patton giggled. “Right! I’ll make us some pancakes. Then we can have some cuddles!”

“Perfect!” Roman proclaimed. “Maybe watch a Disney movie? We’ve got a lot of missed movie-nights to make up for!”

Virgil smiled slightly. “Only if we can watch The Nightmare Before Christmas. And only if Pat lets me supervise the pancakes.”

Patton frowned. “Don’t you trust me?”

“I trust you,” Virgil said, “but Princey here would totally add like five containers of sugar or set the entire thing on fire when your back is turned.”

Roman gasped. “Rude! I’ll have you know that was one time, and the firefighters were very nice about it!”

“We can all help with the pancakes,” Patton compromised. “Lolo can read the instructions, ‘cause he’s good with books and Virge can help me mix ingredients.”

“What about me?” Roman asked.

Virgil smirked. “You can play your Disney songs and sneak bits of batter while pretending you’re helping.”

Roman opened his mouth, shrugged, and smiled. “Sounds good to me.”

“Great!” Patton grabbed Logan’s hand and pulled him over to the kitchen. “Let’s go!”

And Logan spent half the morning making pancakes, getting flour in his hair, Roman placing batter on his nose so Patton would kiss it off, Virgil sitting on the counter and refusing to get off. The pancakes turned out delicious, and after eating a very late breakfast—it’s brunch, Specs, how do you fail so hard at being gay—they curled up on the couch once more and started on their Disney marathons. It turned out that Roman and Virgil shared Logan’s proclivity for discussing the movie while watching it, but Roman geared more towards insults and Virgil just threw popcorn at all the sappy scenes. Patton remained quiet, toying with Logan’s hair and snuggled into Roman’s side, smiling at them like they were his favorite things in the world.

Logan Mackenzie didn’t understand his feelings, not completely. But he did know that he loved them. He knew that they loved him back. He knew that he had never felt happier than now, sitting on the couch with his boyfriends—boyfriends! They were his boyfriends! The novelty still hadn’t worn off.

He loved them, and he could figure the rest out another day, with a little help.

Logan loved them. For now, and forever, that was enough.

#averywrites #writing #fanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #logan sanders #roman sanders #LAMP #virgil sanders #patton sanders #moxiety #logince #logicality #prinxiety #royality #analogical #romance #love #logan sanders cannot feelings #pining #mutual pining #angst #fluff #humor #angst with a happy ending #polyamory

[anistarrose]

inequalities (ao3)

for @taznovembercelebration​ Day 29: Lost. picks up from Lucretia’s point of view, right after Magnus sees her feed the journals to Fisher.

*

“I love you, Magnus, I love all of you. I’m sorry —” She doesn’t know if he can hear her; she doesn’t know what it feels like for him, for any of them, to lose to much to the static all at once. “It’ll be over soon —”

She eases Magnus, her brother, over to the bed, and he sinks onto it with such a dazed look in his eyes. It’s a look she hasn’t seen from him since the last few days she saw him alive on the mushroom planet, battling a spore infection from within — it broke her heart to see him go back then, and it breaks her even worse this time, like snapping a bone that didn’t heal back as strong as it should have.

But it’s temporary this time too, she repeats to herself. He’ll be back, she’s bring him back in a safer world.

“You’ll — you’ll feel so much better when you wake up,” she chokes out, casting Sleep. “Like this was… all just a bad dream. I’ll find you somewhere to stay, I’ll — I’ll fix everything.”

His eyelids droop, bringing peace to confused eyes, while the corners of his mouth tilt to form a peaceful smile. He clings to a pillow in one arm, and to something small and wooden in the other — one last duck carving, carefully painted dark brown and crimson red with a little silver pair of glasses.

“I’ll be — I’ll be right back. I swear,” Lucretia promises, averting her gaze. “Sleep tight, Magnus.”

*

She makes haste towards the Starblaster’s deck, because she knows Barry had been out there all morning, and she can’t bear the thought of him getting dizzy and falling. But when she flings open the door, she sees only Taako — alone and on his knees, frightened eyes flitting up to see who just burst onto the deck with such urgency.

“W-who are you?” he stammers, and Lucretia’s heart lurches. He’s being so much more vulnerable than she’d ever imagine Taako to be towards a stranger — but there’s still something guarded about his expression, something about the way his ears and lower lip quiver in place. Something guilty.

Her eyes drift to the swath of ground that Taako had been fixated on, and instantly, she sees what’s vexing him. Beneath the deck’s railing lie a scant few drops of blood, still wet and unoxidized — but lacking an obvious source, because Taako’s unscathed.

The absent wound may not have been fatal; there’s no way for Lucretia to tell. But there’s no way for Taako to tell either, and he’s smart enough to pin himself as the culprit even if he can’t remember the deed.

“Did I… hurt someone?” he asks. “Is that — is that why you’re crying?”

“No,” she lies, suddenly all-too-aware aware of the tears trickling down her face as she kneels, taking Taako’s head in her hands. “No, you didn’t hurt anyone, Taako. You’d never want that, would you?” She knows he didn’t want to hurt anyone with the Philosopher’s Stone, she knows he’d never want to hurt Barry —

“I don’t know,” Taako mumbles. “I don’t know what I want. I — I’m lost.”

He wipes the blood with a flick of his hand, smearing red across the pristine white deck. “And I think… I might be desperate. I don’t know what I did to wind up here, but… I don’t think I had much left to lose.”

Lucretia doesn’t know what to say, what she can say. After all, as she knows better than anyone — not wanting to hurt someone doesn’t mean you won’t do it anyway.

If Taako started this day with little left to lose, is he ending it with even less?

*

Merle and Davenport are on their feet — or rather, upon closer inspection, Merle’s on his feet with Davenport’s limp arm braced over his shoulders, and Lucretia’s stomach plummets the moment she realizes as much.

“Oh, thank Pan!” Merle exclaims. “I dunno how I got on your spaceship, lady, but this guy here needs help!”

“I’m Davenport,” Davenport blurts out, and for some reason, Merle flinches.

“You — you look competent. Gods, I hope you’re competent,” he tells Lucretia, eyes darting around the room with no apparent goal. “I just, I — I crossed paths with this guy, uh, somewhere — but he’s real upset about something and I just don’t know what! Is he gonna be okay? Do you know what happened to him?”

“I’m Davenport,” Davenport repeats, twitching and tugging at the collar of his shirt. Sweat is beading on his face, far worse than it had Magnus’s or Taako’s or Merle’s. “I’m Davenport.”

“There’s no need to worry,” Lucretia manages, well aware that the hitch in her voice must make her promise hard to believe. “You’re safe. I’ll take care of everything for you —” So you don’t have to live in the shadow of the Hunger any longer; so you don’t have to live with the guilt and the heartache of all the failures and losses, until I can make sure it’ll never have to happen again —

“I’m Davenport,” Davenport echoes. “Dav-en-port. Davenport. Davenport.”

“I — I was gonna say,” Merle stammers, “that I think that’s all he can say —”

“Davenport!!” his captain cries, flinging scattered teardrops to the floor with a jerk of his head, and Lucretia is positive that he’d meant to shout Help!

“I-I-I’m sorry,” she whispers, “I’m so sorry, Captain —”

She falls to her knees, to Davenport and Merle’s height, wrapping her arms around them and burying her face in Davenport’s crimson sweater to muffle her sobs. “I didn’t know — I didn’t mean to — I didn’t think it would —”

Her once-infinite words fail her, as if she’s inadvertently but karmically stripped them away from herself, too. When she’d passed the point of no return, feeding the first journal — or even earlier, when she’d first capitulated to the thought that Lup might not be coming back — she’d known, in essence, what she was doing… but she’d never been prepared for how increasingly horrible, how incomparable, how unequal each new loss would be.

It had been Lup first, of course — undisputed heart of the team, leaving and plunging the rest into first denial, then unrest, then despair. Then Magnus, rushing in at just the wrong moment to see what Lucretia had done; to see Fisher, who was more of a child than a pet to him, as the centerpiece of the betrayal. Magnus, looking at her in the eyes and clearly not seeing anything familiar, except perhaps a resemblance to his lovingly carved duck.

Taako, a shell holding nothing but guilt and an empty heart — still sharp enough to know he’d done something awful, but too numb to know if he regretted it. Barry, either dead and despising her, or alive and amnesiac with no idea where to turn for help. There’s no guessing how badly Fisher can affect him, because he’d been with the Institute the second longest after…

Davenport, clearly aware he should know and be able to say so much more. Clinging to just three syllables, clinging to Merle — Merle, so preoccupied with entreating one total stranger to help a second that he’s hardly acknowledging the holes in his own memories. Merle, who is still friends with everyone by default; Merle, who one could only opt out of being friends with, and only with considerable effort.

Lucretia had spent so much time, scrawled so many addendums and redactions, to conclude that even if these losses ached, they should at least be equal. She’d miscalculated terribly, and gone into each goodbye unprepared.

Now, all she can do is scrape together what elements of her plan remain undisrupted, and make sure that each and every sacrifice her family has made — or had made for them — will be worth it.

#taz #taz balance #lucretia taz #magnus burnsides #taako taaco #davenport taz #merle highchurch #taz balance spoilers #taz nc #taz november celebration #rosalia writes fic

[ae0nx]

FRUITS BASKET S2 EPISODE 18 + short Ep 1-17 english dub recap

AND I'M BACK WITH THE MADNESS.

Took a bit of a break from the Fruits Basket recaps because life happened and I wanted to focus a bit more on my art career and my webcomic. But, I came to miss doing the recaps! So, I'm gonna try and finish season 2 and do some of the left over recaps now in time for when Season 3 drops!

I HAVE however been re-watching the older episodes of Fruits Basket Season 2 with the english dub this time and I have a few notes!:

A shoutout to the wording used in the Yuki 'confession' scene on the beach with Tohru. However, in the sub the confession came across a lot more like platonic love to me and in the dub the confession came across a lot more romantic. (Especially in the episode after where Yuki says he doesn't regret kissing Tohru lol)

Laura Bailey stays killing it as Tohru. All the little vocal inflections are so freakin cute and make her sound more human! But that also speaks to the editing as well which is great. The balance between a little naive and scared and yet strong and determined in her scene with Akito was... amazing.

(Also... all of Akito’s most violent and hurtful moments are when it’s dark... I dunno I just found that cool and interesting lol)

Jerry Jewell in EPISODE 9?!?! His scene with Akito always gets me regardless but Jerry Jewell's performance was heartbreaking! Ah, I could cry. (I did) The little shake he did while declaring he wasn't in love with Tohru because he can't say that shit actually truthfully? 😩 Also... is he intentionally making Kyo’s voice sound a little deeper? It definitely sounded like it in that episode with Kagura. I like!!

While I LOATHE Akito, Colleen Clinkenbeard is amazing, I've never heard her sound this sneakingly evil! And yet... it's slightly carefree too. Reminds me a lot of Shigure. As I said before, Akito and Shigure's english VAs pair up so nicely in audible form.

I love how flirty Hatori was in the English dub when it came to him and Mayu’s episode. It was a really lovely performance from Kent Williams :) I always read that scene of Hatori just being friendly when asking Mayu out to get something to eat but this was a whole other wonderful take!!! <3

I LOVE KIMI TODO’S ENGLISH VA’S PERFORMANCE OMG. THANK YOU, CHERAMAI LEIGH 🤣

Kakeru’s English VA continues to sound cuter and cuter... 😘 Whassup, Aaron Dimsuke? I kid, lol

I lovee the fact that Haru calls Yuki ‘fragile and kind’ (two typically feminine presenting descriptions) and Yuki took it as a compliment! I dunno about the description of fragile as many people could take that offensively, regardless of gender, but the way it’s explained here it’s almost like he’s describing him as precious?... Coulda went with that instead...

I like the decisions for the moments where Mikaela Krantz emphasises on Momiji’s put on German accent and when she tones it down and return to his natural voice

But anyways... lol, this episode was... a LOT. Not an easy breezy one for me to come back to at all... I’ll be watching the english dub.

TIME TO DIVE BACK IN!

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- Hiro's so cute at the start of this episode talking about his sibling and how he wants to look out for his mum. Of course, it's in the most Hiro of ways but this scene definitely warmed me up to him a lot more :)

Hiro’s mum is like a future Tohru, haha

That hair animation they give Rin is always great 😂 I hope Takaya-sensei is proud.

It’s so curious how Hiro speaks so honestly and true to Rin yet is so careful of her emotions. He’s never really been like this with anyone but Kisa, especially not the other teens or adults. It kinda shows how much seeing what happened to Rin by Akito’s hands really got to him and traumatised him. Of course, Hiro’s not just doing this because of his trauma but cos he genuinely cares!

- I noticed that there was a slight parallel between Hiro + Kisa and Rin + Haru. Kinda highlights why breaking the curse is important to Hiro and gives more reason as to why that event with Rin and Akito freaked him out.

- I dunno if this is intentional or just an animation glitch but I’ve noticed that in that long panning shot in the opening theme that closes into Yuki, Tohru and Kyo looking at the sunset, it looks like Kyo’s experession kinda ‘glitches’ in between a smile and a stoic look. Again, I don’t know if it was intentional, but I like to think it’s as a little show of Kyo not really managing to attain true happiness fully (for now anyway).

- (Also, I think that this opening song might come third in my list of most favourite opening songs in Fruits Basket history!!! <3<3<3)

- I’m super glad that Shigure and Rin scene didn’t go any further than it needed to... 👀 but the fact that Rin thought ‘Gure would be up for using her body as a bargaining chip says more about Shigure than Rin in my humble opinion...

Self-loathing? From Shigure? Unexpected. Empathy? For him? A little.

...Damn it.

🤣

I’m sorry. This scene is very gorgeous, well lit and beautiful and dramatic. But, I can’t not laugh at how early 00s gothic romance this is! But, I love it. It’s sweet and probably the first ‘raunchy’ scene we’ve gotten in this anime, ooo la! But, that kiss animation was kinda awkward for me, sorry. 🤷🏾‍♀️

I hate that Rin is AGAIN getting Outfit Appreciation Award when she’s literally killing herself with stress and worry but... amazing wardrobe as always. 5 stars.

Is it just me or does every zodiac member see Tohru as a parental figure or associate her with motherhood, except for Kyo?... 

*mentally notes essay of Tohru being the depiction of being a ‘merciful God’ compared to Akito being the decpiction of being a ‘vengeful God’*

Heartbreaking. 

but... WHY DO THEY ALL HAVE TO HAVE PARENTAL ISSUES?!

Also, Briana Palencia in this scene was amazing. Everyone is so, so good in this show! Dub and sub!!

...I totally forgot about this bit of Rin’s backstory. I love that they really highlighted how drastic the change was from happy family to an abusive household. Obviously, there must have been some cracks in the frame of the happy family and Rin as a child was inquisitive enough to see them. ...Only for her to be later punished for it. 

Kazuma!!! He and Tohru just be constantly saving these zodiac kids, man.

- Rin’s parents might just be at the same level as Kyo’s dad on the ‘WORST PARENTS OF THE ZODIAC CHILDREN’ list. Well... until later...

🥺💝

Beginning to understand why they’re so attached and bonded to each other now. <3

- Also, lowkey, Kagura’s mum is great! From her protecting Kagura from going to the beach house because of Akito to her taking Rin in without question! And she seemed completely cool with Kyo too! Yay to good parents in anime!!!

- The confession scene between Haru and Rin is so pure and blunt yet romantic and just... so them <3

- I’m not even gonna put any screencaps from the final scene with Akito because I find Akito is just disgusting. But, really? Pushing someone off the balcony?! I mean... I remember why Akito’s feelings for Rin are so strong and darkly intense but I still can’t excuse their actions. I kinda don’t like that they presented this very abusive and violent moment as... poetic? I mean, it matches Rin’s ‘style’, I guess? But... this is just someone going past the limit.

- And her landing like that on the conveniently pointy stone? I was surprised she didn’t damage her spine...

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I’m so happy I’m watching Fruits Basket again! This anime really is the best! And it DESERVEDLY won Best Drama at the CrunchyRoll Anime Awards! Yayyyyy! Sorry, if this ended on a weird note, I did enjoy this episode. Just a very dark one to return to 😅

See you... soon? Haha!

#fruits basket #furuba #fruits basket 2020 #fruits basket season 2