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#i have infinite possiblities of creativity at my fingertips and yet what to i draw
ganondoodle · 24 days
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Since you said it's ok to send you random ask, i've always found your "monsters" design to be really really gorgeous, and I wanted to know : in any form of media you've interacted with, what's PEAK monster design for you ?
i have been thinking about this ask alot bc ... i dont ... know? theres a problem with what counts as a monster really too, most are either some sort of anthro/furry or the horror gore type of monster that instills you more with disgust than awe
i guess theres some i really like but idk if thats what id call 'peak' (though its rarely JUST the design but their vibe and stuff too);
(its a lot of zelda.. sorry)
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Eldra, Farodra and Naydra (engl Dinraal, Farosh(?)) though Eldra is def my fav one of them, i like how they are a little more less typical dragon- with the fur around the neck the floppy ears and kinda goofy face yet manage to be the most ethereal, awe inspiring creature i have ever seen in a game with how they act and are presented as (in BOTW!!! do not mention anythign sonau/zonai with stupid magic pebbles to me about them i will manifest worms into your tea)
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Leunen (Lynels) (botw) -i could not find a better picture wtf, fav are white and silver ones) FINE they had some pretty neat new horn designs in totk- idk i just like them alot, rather simple if you think about it, horse lion plus horns- but its so well put together it just kinda scratches my brain in a good way (also how intelligent they clearly are, like the way they fight and act and also even their death animation is so??? huh?? you are just gonna treat them like any other mindless monste- *remmbers they treat ganondorf even even worse all things considered* .. nevermind you're good)
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'Beast' Ganondorf (twilight princess) its my favorite beast ganon design (even if it technically is just kinda a man boar .. again) though if ww gan had a non puppet beast form that one would most definitely be my fav lol (i will not get over the fact that some descriptions call this a hideous beast EXCUSE ME???? WHERE???) (honorable mention here, darkbest ganon from botw, pig on fire but it looks cool as fuck)
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Nimbusgarde (ww) .. (engl .. darknuts?) do i need to say anything? (i could throw alot of ww design here) not sure if it counts as monster but they are not human so ????
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the pathless bosses- (here in order, Cernos, the Godslayer, and Kumo) all of them are rad as hell (except for the final version of the godslayer ... liek im sorry but it looks to boring compared to any other one lol) again not just the design but man do i love them
since i dont know what would count as a monster or no i could just list my fav characters here bfmjbfmjsbmj like radahn (elden ring) is just kinda a zombie, aurelion sol (league of legends) is a space dragon, the forest god in princess mononoke, Narisha (skyward sword- sky whale)- i could go on but this post is long already (honorable mention to Omus in nausicäa, weird bugs but also something divine, though it is much more how they are treated and the vibe etc)
in all honesty though i cant think of one that i would describe as perfect, what i want of a monster design is to be ... cool but also a little weird, big hulking monsters that have something off about them and something that makes them 'other', but also not, as much as i like bloodborne, just bloody gory messes of rotting flesh, AND not just as a monster to kill, i just crave a game or otherwiese piece of media where the cool monsters arent just there for you to kill- the perfect one i guess would be something kinda big scary weird and off but while non verbal clearly not a mindless beast?
and here is the thing; my own characters do not furfill that, my designs are really rather conservative, much to my dismay, anthro of a mix of animals, maybe an extra arm thrown in- Eadrya, one of my favorites, is really just a blueish furry (yes they have fur) and their demon form is a mix of seals and catfish with some extra arms, too many teeth and a mouth that goas wayy to far (if they want) - Shargon is a feather dude with extra arms and his demon form is really just a chinese type dragon crossed with a bird, throw some darts at the color wheel, done
together with my problem of my monster characters losing their 'otherness' vibe within the story rather fast bc the majority of my characters are non human and speak and you see them in all sorts of emotions and parts of life- they lose that divine, unknown vibe and i HATE that that happens, i want them more akin to the forest god in mononoke but thats not possible unless i start from scratch
and i really dont mean to make myself look bad to sound self depre- ... however you spell that; i really am rather dissatisfied with my own designs but mostly just roll with what i got bc i never seem to be able to actually achieve what i want
even my redesigns often really make things LESS interesting (unless maybe the og was just ... human, but they are blue eyed with golden hair and white so that makes them divine you seE-), the skyward sword dragons as i redesigned them made them much more classical dragon, in part intentional bc i was drawing a connection of them becoming the botw dragons at some point, but by all means the canon design is much more weird and unusual than what i did with them, you could apply the same to even demise, his canon design might seem a little uninspired but really what did i do? inject him with some classic satan spice like that makes it in any way less stereotypical evil demon ??? lol
im sorry this post devolved into whatever this is but i really am trying to answer sincerely, i am confused about it myself, what counts as a monster, what doesnt, there must be more that i really loved but why cant i think of them, why do i design characters like this when i really want something much more different, i dont know, i feel like my brain is in a cage, why do i keep making things less interesting in an effort to make it interesting, am i falling into the corporate trap of cool sells who am i what am i doing
(theres a zelda artist with a style so strikingly genuis in shape, color and just .. DESIGN that i want to chew my nails off bc i cannot design like them, their designs and redesigns are so different yet sensical and so full of crisp shapes i have never seen before it drives me nuts and i would want to give them a shoutout but i think they dont like me so aaaaarhekjbfhgdknbgdfklbg)
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babysizedfics · 4 years
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Little Accidents, Big Developments
Chapter 8: Sink and Float
[This is an age regression story]
Chapter Summary: Roman is anxious, Virgil has some compelling things to say, Logan deduces Virgil’s true regression age, Patton gets emotional, and we say good-bye.
Chapter word count: 11,750
Other chapters: 1 / 2 / 3 / 4 / 5 / 6 / 7 / 8 / bonus
Read on AO3 or below the cut!
Content warning: Light angst, but cuteness galore to make up for it.
oOo
‘All right, little prince. What should I write here?’
‘His coolness rating,’ Roman replied as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. His tongue stuck out slightly as he concentrated on his drawing; a picture of Kanga on the top half of a small piece of paper. Underneath the character were five rectangles, all coloured to varying levels of completion.
‘Of course,’ Patton said, nodding solemnly as he wrote “coolness” underneath the fifth rectangle on his own piece of paper. ‘And I’m guessing Tigger’s coolness rating is -’
‘Ten.’
‘Ten. Obviously,’ Patton giggled. He picked up the red crayon from the dining room table and coloured the final rectangle to completion. Just like the four rectangles above it. They signified Tigger’s bounciness, funniness, orangeness, and Roman’s seal of approval ratings, all maxed out. ‘I’m starting to think this card might be rigged.’
‘Nu-uh!’ Roman cried, finally looking up from his drawing with a pout. ‘Not rigged if it’s true. Tigger is the funniest, bounciest, orangest, coolest character, and he’s my favourite. He just has to win all of the rounds!’
Despite the frankly questionable logic, Patton was simply glad that Roman was back to his cheeky self.
While they baked, Roman had been strangely well-behaved. The way he had obediently mixed the batter, rolled the dough, and shaped the cookies without so much as a whinge was highly unusual. Patton was glad he didn’t have to tell the boy off for anything, of course, but there was nothing relieving in seeing Roman stand patiently at the side of the room while Patton washed up. There was no singing, no dancing, no bouncing, not so much as a peep from the little prince. It just wasn’t right.
Roman was boisterous, whether he was little or not; he was excitable and hyperactive and loud. Usually, he would have baulked at the mere suggestion of standing in silence awaiting instructions. Though that was precisely what he had done in the kitchen by his own volition, staring at his feet in quite a pensive manner.
By the time he had set the gingerbread haycorns and hunnypots on the counter to cool down, Patton had made the decision to extend their father-son bonding time. He knew Roman’s strange mood would persist if Patton didn’t get to the bottom of it.
‘Where are you going, sweetheart?’ Patton had asked when Roman had started walking towards the living room once Patton had finished the dishes.
‘Back with Vee and Mom,’ Roman had replied. ‘We can’t decorate them yet.’
‘It’s still father-son bonding time though! Why don’t we find something fun to do while we wait?’
He wasn’t quite as bouncy as Patton had hoped he would be, but Roman at least smiled at the suggestion.
Now, after almost an hour of crafting Pooh Cards (all design credit owing to Roman, of course), the creative side had finally been coaxed out of his sombre, contemplative mood. Patton himself had even perked up from the reassurance that he still knew what was best for his little prince.
‘What if another player that isn’t you gets Tigger’s card?’ Patton asked, neatening the edges of the coloured rectangle. He was careful not to budge Roman with his elbow as did so. ‘Won’t you be sad to lose?’
The scritch of Roman’s crayon paused for a moment, then continued. ‘It will be a worthy loss.’
What a funny little boy, Patton thought with a chuckle. Having finished with Tigger’s statistics, he put the crayon back in Roman’s Lion King pencil case. ‘Okay, last one!’ He slid the card across the table to Roman’s spot. ‘Do you need your dad’s help to draw Tigger?’ Patton asked. (Not so much because he was expecting a positive response, but because he knew the question reinforced both of their respective headspaces.)
‘I got it!’ An orange crayon was snatched from the table.
Patton sat back and watched as Roman drew his favourite character with a bright smile. It was impossible not to mirror it. ‘Once you’ve finished drawing Tigger we can decorate our cookies!’
‘Dad,’ Roman whined without looking up from his drawing, ‘they’re not cookies. They’re haycorns and hunnypots.’
‘Right, haycorns and hunnypots,’ Patton quickly corrected himself. ‘I keep making that mistake, don’t I?’
There was no response from Roman, who was clearly concentrating on getting Tigger’s tail just so.
‘Cutie pie,’ Patton couldn’t help but coo. When he pinched Roman’s cheek the younger side laughed so sincerely that Paton was hit by a wave of equal parts joy and guilt.
Joy because Roman was happy and so utterly adorable. Guilt because Patton clearly didn’t spend enough time with his little prince if this was such a rare sound to him.
‘I’ll get the icing ready,’ Patton whispered, leaving the room quickly.
By the time he had moved the cookies and the icing bowls into the dining room, Roman’s drawing was complete. Patton praised him heartily for his work (to which Roman blushed and giggled) as he arranged their workspace with the three different bowls of glace icing - yellow, pink, and mint green - and the cookies, plus a tube of white writing icing for the hunnypot labels.
Excited to be in charge of yet another creative project, Roman instantly took on a leading role. ‘Dad, you’ve gotta do the writing on the hunnypots and fen - and f-th-then I’m gonna do all the pretty colours!’
‘Right-o, kiddo!’ Patton saluted him, then got right to work. ‘You always have such wonderful ideas, don’t you, little prince?’ The lid to the writing icing tube put up a slight resistance as Patton unscrewed it.
‘Mhm… I’m clever,’ Roman mumbled slowly, concentrating as he spread some green icing onto one of the haycorn cookies.
‘Just like your mom. I’m sure him and Vee agree too.’
‘Vee thinks I’m clever?’ Roman asked, his voice a pitch higher from excitement.
‘Of course, sweetie. He looks up to you a lot.’ The tail of the “Y” that Patton piped accidentally curled off of the hunnypot in his hand. Patton placed the cookie back on the cooling rack and licked the sugary blob off from his fingertip. ‘You two are such lovely brothers - you’re practically inseparable.’
There was a gentle snap. Both Patton and Roman looked down to see that the haycorn in Roman’s hands had snapped in half.
‘Oh…’ Roman breathed as he looked down at the broken cookie. The pout on his face was so intense that Patton was almost worried he would start crying.
‘No, it’s okay. Here,’ Patton gently took the gingerbread pieces from his fingers. ‘Your dad can work his magic and glue it back together with icing. You just keep making them look pretty, sweetheart.’
They resumed decorating in silence, with something indescribable hanging heavily in the air between them. Patton kept quiet, allowing Roman space to speak if he wanted to say anything. Then, after a couple of minutes:
‘Dad?’
It sounded shy, so instead of looking at Roman and possibly making him more nervous, Patton’s eyes remained on the haycorn halves that he held together. White icing oozed from the crack as he waited for it to set. ‘Yes, my bright ray of sunshine?’
The nickname pulled a little giggle from Roman, brightening the atmosphere infinitely. He sounded a bit more confident when he asked, ‘Is, um… is Vee wearing a diaper?’
Patton’s gaze snapped onto Roman’s face in faint shock.
‘There was a weird sound when Mom moved him earlier,’ Roman explained. ‘And you said he feels littler ‘cause you tried something new.’
There was no variation of upset or amusement on Roman’s face, so Patton was not concerned when he confirmed, ‘Yes, he is wearing a diaper, you’re right.’ Though he still felt it important to add, ‘Does that make you feel okay?’
Roman quickly nodded, clearly desperate to show that he was not in opposition. ‘No, it’s fine. W-wait, I mean yeah! Yeah, it’s okay.’ His eyes fell down to the cookie in his hands as he continued decorating. ‘It makes sense. Babies need diapers, right?’
‘Right.’
The way Roman gazed at his cookie reminded Patton of how he had appeared in the kitchen; contemplative. It was clear that Roman had more to say, going by the way his toes tapped at the foot of Patton’s chair rapidly. Patton waited.
‘Okay, wait, so,’ Roman eventually said, sounding as if he were a student troubling himself over a difficult math problem and Patton was the teacher who could shed some light on its solution. ‘Virgil really can’t go to the toilet?’
Patton readjusted himself to lean his elbows on the table, settling in to patiently help Roman through his confusion. ‘Not when he’s regressed, no.’ The cookie halves wobbled a little in his hold.
‘And can he really not speak properly?’
This time Patton had to take a moment to think over his answer. He hadn’t actually considered questioning whether Virgil’s hindered speech was genuine. Now that he thought about it, Virgil did appear to try hard when he spoke while regressed. Although the babbles were quiet and seemed to meld into each other, they were notably forced. As if he was putting a lot of effort into getting them out. And yet they were only ever half-coherent at the best of times.
‘No,’ Patton said, smiling to himself at the realisation. ‘I don’t think he can.’ The reminder that Virgil’s regression was all-encompassing sent a rush of excitement racing through Patton’s veins. He truly was responsible for an incredibly vulnerable baby. While that thought might have been intimidating to some, Patton was filled with pure comfort at the mere thought. It was like he was finally fulfilling his purpose. It was like coming home.
‘So… Vee is really, actually a baby.’ Roman’s eyes were wide and his voice laced with astonishment.
‘Yes,’ Patton confirmed with a giggle. It sounded like this was a new revelation to Roman. ‘Your baby brother is really, actually a baby.’
Roman’s brow pulled into a light frown as his spoon swiped over his cookie one last time before dropping into the icing bowl with a clatter.
It was clear Roman wanted to ponder over the answer, for whatever reason, so Patton turned his attention to testing the cookie in his hands. At the slightest pressure, the two halves broke free from each other, and he tutted. Replenishing the icing more liberally this time, he held the jagged edges together firmly again.
‘I like that,’ Roman muttered.
‘What’s that, sweetie?’
‘I like having a baby brother.’ Patton saw Roman nodding as if assuring himself of his decision. ‘I don’t want Vee to be like me, I like that we’re different.’
The last part seemingly came from nowhere, and the whole discussion seemed oddly disjointed, though Patton didn’t show his confusion. Instead, he opted for his standard smile of loving support, which would always be appropriate in any situation as far as Patton was concerned.
‘Well, I’m glad you like it!’ His tone bounced cheerfully. ‘And I know that Vee really loves having a big brother.’
‘Hm,’ Roman hummed and picked up a hunnypot cookie to decorate. Something in the slow movements of his fingers as he iced the treat felt off.
Patton nudged him gently, jostling his elbow. A sympathetic smile wormed its way onto his lips when he saw distant eyes snap onto him. Roman’s throat rolled with a gulp.
‘What’s the matter, little prince?‘ Patton murmured sweetly. It never took Roman long to blurt any troubling thoughts that hurtled through his mind when Patton asked about them with such softness.
Right on cue, Roman sighed explosively. Then he began: ‘Now that I’m part of the family -’
(Patton’s heart twisted. Now that Roman was part of the family. As if he hadn’t been before.)
‘- I’m kind of…’ Roman paused, nibbling his lip. His eyes fell to the table as he whispered, ‘I’m scared.’
Patton instantly dropped his cookie to the table. He didn’t care that it split apart once more, leaving a thin line of white, sugary goop on the wooden surface - his only priority at that moment was Roman. His little prince always placed so much importance on being fiercely brave and strong. Patton knew this must have been an exceptional circumstance for him to actually admit to feeling afraid.
‘What are you scared of, honey?’ he asked, his tone as steady and firm as the arm he placed around Roman’s shoulders. It was of utmost importance that Roman saw him as a supportive, strong father figure during that moment of rare vulnerability. It had to be known that Patton would protect him from anything that was causing him distress.
‘I’m scared it’ll end.’ Thankfully, Roman clearly found Patton supportive enough to lean against him as he spoke. ‘You know, us being a family.’
It was difficult to contain the urge to shrug off the mere idea. Though Patton knew better than to dismiss his loved ones’ worries, no matter how seemingly unlikely. ‘Why do you think it will end?’ he asked instead.
A sharp shrug jostled both of their bodies. ‘I don’t know… What if Vee stops regressing?’
‘I don’t think that will happen,’ Patton said gently as he swayed them to and fro. The weight against his side got heavier as Roman leaned into his one-armed embrace. ‘Your mom thinks the regression is written right into Virgil’s brain since he’s done it for so many years. It’s a part of him.’
‘Okay…’ Roman sounded uncertain still, reaching forward to fidget with the hem of Patton’s cardigan. ‘What if me and him start arguing all the time again?’
Taking the long fingers in his own, Patton whispered, ‘You won’t,’ with absolute confidence. ‘I don’t think you could go back to how you used to be after everything you boys have shared with each other.’
When Patton pressed a soft kiss to Roman’s cheek, he honestly expected to feel the tension leave Roman’s body.
Instead, the grip around Patton’s fingers tightened painfully. ‘What if he says he doesn’t wanna be brothers anymore?’ Roman’s words were frantic, panicked. ‘I don’t wanna lose him, he’s the best brother I…’
Silence reigned.
Patton’s gaze sunk to the tabletop where the two halves of the haycorn cookie lay torn apart, joined only by a thin trail of icing.
‘I just don’t want us to be split up,’ Roman whispered brokenly.
Memories flooded Patton’s mind. Of two boisterous children, identical twins, perpetually by each other’s sides despite their constant arguing. Of fearsome fights; scratching and biting and screaming. And of a thought, just a thought, that had passed through Patton’s mind one sunny day like an innocent floating cloud. The thought that one of the twins had potential and that the other was… wrong.
Memories of the following day and only seeing one child come out from their room. Of little snippets of conversation between Janus and Logan. Of realising that the other twin had not ceased to exist, but had been moved to the lower parts of the mind. (No one understood how. It was the only time a side had been moved between the conscious and the subconscious.) (That would change over a decade later when Virgil timidly knocked on their door.)
Memories of the “good” twin - Roman - seeming unaffected by the loss of his brother. Happier, even, that his ideas had no contenders. That there was no longer a double of him suggesting all manner of disturbing things that Patton simply could not stand to hear.
Warm fingers tightened further around his.
As Patton’s awareness was reeled against that cold, crashing wave of regret, his mind spluttered. Unaffected? Patton realised now the ridiculousness of the mere notion that Roman would have been unchanged by the split. By the fleeting thought from Patton - he himself still being a child at the time - that had acted as the catalyst for such an irrevocable shift in the twins’ lives. In everyone’s lives.
‘Dad?’ Roman’s gentle voice broke the surface of Patton’s turbulent reverie.
With a steadying breath, Patton forced himself back to the present and clasped both hands around Roman’s. He prayed that the tightness of his grip would dispel the trembling of his fingers.
‘You and Virgil love each other very much,’ he said, ‘and you’ve both become a lot better at showing it; when you’re little and when you’re big. Even if you did argue, you could never stop being brothers. Not now. I promise, nothing will -’ Patton’s voice was suddenly strangled by an involuntary gulp. He felt his cheeks burn as he swallowed past the knot of nerves in his throat. ‘Nothing will tear you apart,’ he finished quietly.
‘What if you and Logan break up?’
It was easy to forget how different Roman’s voice was when he was little. Him being such a master at adapting his voice for different roles, the shift in tone was subtle, though effective. The slightest bit higher in pitch, though not unnaturally so. Much bouncier in intonation, but not inappropriately so. Changed, but not overexaggerated. (Perhaps Roman was accustomed to minimising the impact of changes, Patton realised.)
Though now it was clear. This question was deeper, louder, bigger than the previous ones. It was a question from adult Roman.
Patton sighed and met Roman’s eyes equally. At that moment he was no longer a father speaking to his son, but rather a friend reassuring a friend.
‘If, for whatever reason, Logan and I stop dating…’ Patton paused. That was the first time he had verbally acknowledged that they were an item. It truly felt amazing to admit to someone besides Logan himself. Though it was a melancholy experience, to be announcing their relationship while simultaneously theorising its demise. ‘If that ever happens then we’ll still be very good friends. And we will all still be a family, I promise.’
The reluctance faded from Roman’s expression and he wriggled his hand free from Patton’s hold. A finger raised between their faces. ‘Pinky promise?’ Roman asked in childlike hopefulness.
Patton curled his little finger around Roman’s. ‘Pinky promise,’ he said earnestly.
Taking advantage of the fact that Roman’s hand was apprehended - and desperate to distract from the loaded atmosphere - Patton swiped some icing onto Roman’s face.
‘Hey!’
‘What’s wrong?’ Patton asked in mock-confusion.
Roman glared at him past a smile. ‘There’s icing on my cheek!’
‘Oh, let me get that for you!’ Patton pressed a long, wet kiss to Roman’s cheek, the icing spreading between his lips.
‘Da-ha-d,’ Roman giggled, trying to squirm away.
With a loud smack of his lips, Patton pulled away laughing. As he licked his lips clean, he took a moment to appreciate the pure joy on Roman’s face. ‘I love you, little prince. And I love Virgil and I love Logan. And I know for a fact that you all love each other too. That will never, ever end. No matter what.’
There was a loud screech of chair legs against the floorboards then Roman was on his feet, hunching over to hold Patton in a deadly-tight hug. Patton returned it with a strained wheeze.
‘I don’t want it to end,’ Roman mumbled into his shoulder. ‘I don’t want anything to change.’
That was a loaded statement if Patton had ever heard one. The sentiment behind it was clear and admirable, of course. Like Roman, Patton too loved how their family was faring and wouldn’t change it for the world. Though he was hit by the reality of just how much had changed in the past few weeks, the past few days, even the past few hours!
Regardless, he knew what Roman meant, and he wasn’t one to magnify the ambiguity of language choices. That was Logan’s job.
So - despite his uncertainty in the generalisation of the statement - Patton held Roman closer and said, ‘Nothing will change, sweetheart.’
oOo
As much as he had enjoyed his and Roman’s Father-Son bonding time (which they agreed would become a weekly ritual from then on), Patton was more than eager to return to the living room and be the happy pappy again.  It was hard to shake the melancholy from the earlier conversation, after all.
Once the hunnypots and haycorns were decorated and left to set in the kitchen, the two traipsed back down the hallway. Patton stopped just short of opening the living room door when he heard a muffled, unintelligible conversation coming from the other side of it.
He looked behind him to Roman, who mirrored his confusion. The distant voices sounded as if they were holding a full-fledged discussion. Could Virgil have been grown-up again?
Patton pushed the door open with a deep disappointment that he didn’t quite want to acknowledge. Though on poking his head into the room, it didn’t take long to see that Virgil was still regressed and in Logan’s lap. He sighed in relief.
‘Mamanaba,’ Virgil muttered, rattling Meeko with fervour. The inflection of his voice was similar to that of normal speech, even if the actual content was gibberish and his tone was still decidedly babyish.
Logan’s hands readjusted on Virgil to hold him steady as the boy kept bouncing in his lap. ‘My goodness, I never considered such a thing! Though I don’t believe that is quantifiable.’
‘What are you talking about?’ Roman laughed from behind Patton, then stepped around him in the direction of the couch.
There was nothing but pure paternal instinct that made Patton hurriedly reach out and pull Roman backwards against his chest and into his arms. He just could not bear to see the others being so sweet while his own arms were empty of one of his babies. Thankfully, Roman just settled against him and didn’t comment on it.
‘This is an academic debate, little prince,’ Logan explained very seriously, offering one of his false-stern looks. His lips twitched. ‘No interruptions, please.’
‘W-waba, mamama,’ Virgil babbled, his voice now squeaky with excitement.
Logan gasped loudly and looked at Virgil in amazement, to which the regressor giggled. ‘What a fascinating hypothesis! But have you considered the subjectivity of such a theory?’
There was a moment of quiet while Virgil looked over at the doorway to Patton and Roman. It seemed he had only just noticed their appearance. Meeko was raised to hide Virgil’s face as he collapsed against Logan’s chest. ‘Baba,’ Virgil whined, muffled by the toy at his chin.
A loud chuckle rang out. ‘Well, you’ve certainly given me a lot to think about,’ Logan said, cupping the back of Virgil’s head protectively.
‘Mom, can you speak baby?’ Roman asked, sounding thoroughly impressed. As he spoke, he launched himself away from Patton’s chest and skipped over to stand in front of the couch.
‘It certainly sounds like it,’ Patton murmured, watching Roman go. The sudden emptiness in his arms couldn’t hold a candle to the emptiness in his chest. Why was he so sensitive all of a sudden? Why did his chest physically ache when he wasn’t holding his boys?
Then his thoughts came to a crashing stop. No. This wasn’t about him and what he wanted. Roman obviously didn’t want a hug so he was perfectly within his right to wriggle out of it. Patton had been keeping him from his brother, after all. The memories of his and Roman’s previous conversation rose in tides, threatening to spill over. Patton had been keeping Roman from his brother again.
‘What did you two get up to, little prince?’ Logan asked. ‘Did you have fun with your dad?’
As Roman launched into an impassioned regaling of the creation of Pooh Cards and his expert cookie decorating skills, Patton floated over to the couch - specifically towards the baby in Logan’s lap. His knuckle ghosted over Virgil’s smooth cheek and elicited a small coo from him. The contact and the sweet sound filled Patton with a sudden motivation that he hadn’t realised he had been lacking.
Then Virgil pulled himself to sit up from Logan’s chest and shook his rattle right by Patton’s ear with a bright smile that threatened to dislodge his pacifier. ‘Babababa.’
‘What a fun sound!’ Patton gushed, only faintly acknowledging that Roman’s monologue had just drawn to a close. ‘I see someone’s woken up a bit since we left.’
‘He is rather enraptured by the rattling sound,’ Logan said, shuffling Virgil in his lap so that he could more directly face the others. (It was true, the way Virgil stared at his toy looked as if we were both confused and amazed by the sounds coming from it; almost spellbound.) ‘I think it’s safe to say that it is a “good stim”.’ He directed his gaze to Roman and said, ‘Virgil appreciates his present from you Roman, even if he is not able to tell you as much at the moment. Thank you for making your little brother happy.’
Roman flopped down to sit on the couch a couple of feet away from Logan with pink cheeks. ‘S’okay,’ he muttered with a nonchalant shrug that was betrayed by his wide smile.
Quite unexpectedly, Virgil whined loudly and dropped Meeko to the couch. Then he wriggled and reached his arms out towards his brother so insistently that he slid right off of Logan’s lap.
‘Vee!’ Logan yelped.
Patton acted lightning fast, dropping to his knees and catching Vee in one fell swoop. A fraction of a second later and Virgil would have hit the ground.
‘Woah, there we go.’ Patton hoisted Virgil onto his hip and stood upright again, keeping a firm arm under Virgil’s diaper to support him. ‘Are you okay, angel?’ he asked breathlessly, residual adrenaline surging through his veins.
The shock didn’t fade from Virgil’s expression for several seconds. Then, at last, his eyes swam with thick tears and he broke into a constant stream of whimpers.
‘Aww, my little baby,’ Patton cooed. He started bouncing him lightly as parents often did with wailing infants. ‘You’re all right, sweetie. Shh-shh-shh.’ Virgil’s whimpers quickly quieted at the bouncing so Patton kept it up, warm adoration swelling in his chest at just how alike a real baby Virgil was.
With a wet sniffle, Virgil buried his face against Patton’s shoulder.
‘That’s it,’ Patton murmured. ‘Papa has you, you’re safe.’ He felt a pinch at his side and looked down to see that Virgil was gripping his cardigan and tugging on the material harshly. Without looking away from his baby, Patton held his free hand out to the couch. ‘Can someone please pass me Meeko?’
A few seconds passed without any softness being pressed into his hands. Patton looked over to find Logan and Roman sat staring at him in stunned silence.
It felt as though he had unknowingly done something horribly wrong. Heat flooded his cheeks. ‘What’s wrong, what did I do?’ Was he being a bad Dad? Would they take his baby away? His grip on Virgil tightened.
‘N-nothing,’ Logan stammered.
A loud snort sounded from Roman. ‘Wow, Dad’s pretty strong, isn’t he, Mom?’
‘Oh,’ Patton breathed with a nervous chuckle, trying to hide how utterly relieved he was. The look of betrayal Logan was directing towards Roman inspired enough amusement for it to be passable. ‘You carried him earlier too, Lo.’
‘I know that,’ Logan defended, his cheeks dusting pink as he looked back at Patton. ‘Just… not with one arm.’
Patton’s eyes trailed down to realise that he was indeed bouncing Virgil easily with only one arm. 
Logan cleared his throat then muttered, ‘It is rather impressive.’
‘Well, I’m a dad,’ Patton giggled lightly. He would never have imagined Logan would be flustered by such a thing. ‘Dads need to be strong for Dad Stuff!’
‘Like catching Moms when they swoon.’
At Roman’s cheeky remark, Logan’s mouth dropped open. The creative side quickly descended into giggles.
Patton witnessed the shock on Logan’s face be wiped away by an evil grin. ‘Oh, I’ll give you something to laugh about.’ Then Roman was being tugged towards Logan’s chest, Logan’s fingers wriggling in his underarms.
‘W-wait! Wait!’ Roman’s legs kicked against the couch as he was dragged into Logan’s lap. ‘Mom, ple-he-he-ase!’ he pleaded through already hysterical laughter.
Patton giggled and shook his head. It wasn’t often Logan tickled their little prince, but when he did he was merciless. Roman’s begging would not help him.
Amongst the raucous laughter and tumbling on the couch, Patton managed to swipe Meeko from the cushion before Roman’s ankles thrust into it with a squeal.
‘Here you are, honey bunny,’ Patton said, worming the toy between his cardigan and Virgil’s fingers.
The weight on his shoulder lifted as Virgil looked up with a curious hum. On seeing that he had been reunited with his raccoon, his eyes sparkled with joy rather than tears. And, as expected, he rattled the toy for what must have been the hundredth time.
‘Why did you jump off of Mama’s lap, Vee?’ Patton asked, fully aware that Virgil might not have been old enough to even understand the question. It was worth a try at least.
The question seemed to break Virgil from the trance the rattle had him under and he started whining and wriggling violently.
‘Baby, baby, it’s okay,’ Patton tried to soothe him. It was only met with louder whines and harder kicks. ‘All right, down we go,’ he sang, doing his best to make the words bounce with joy. It was difficult considering the immense sinking sensation in his stomach as he carefully lowered Virgil to the floor.
‘Is everything all right?’
Patton looked up at Logan’s breathless question, pleasantly surprised to see Roman still in Logan’s lap, finally free of the tickle attack.
‘I just asked him why he jumped off your lap.’
At the reminder, Virgil thrust his arms out towards Roman again and pleaded, ‘Wo… Wo-Wo!’
‘I didn’t do anything!’ Roman’s shoulders raised defensively as he looked to Patton. ‘It wasn’t my fault he fell!’
‘We know that, little prince. It’s all right,’ Logan assured him, embracing him to his chest.
With a gentle smile, Patton realised that Virgil was not blaming Roman for the fall whatsoever. ‘Sweetheart, I think Vee just wants to play with you.’
Virgil’s arms stretched even further into the empty space between himself and the couch. ‘Pway!’
‘Oh, um,’ Roman hesitated, looking at the ground and running his fingers over Logan’s arms, which were fastened around his waist.
‘I would like to stretch my legs anyway,’ Logan said, carefully sliding Roman off of his lap.
There was a short moment of thick quiet. It was over in an instant as Logan quickly rose to his feet, announcing that he would fetch some more toys for them before promptly leaving the room.
Before long, Logan had returned with supplies and the caregivers had set up a baby-safe play area for the boys. A large fluffy blanket lay across half of the living room floor and more than two dozen soft toys sat around the edges of the blanket, cordoning off the area. Around the room, cushions and pillows padded the harsh corners of the coffee table, TV unit, and radiator to avoid any painful bumps.
Roman was as bubbly as ever, overspilling with exuberant playfulness as he finally had his little brother’s full attention.
‘And what doth the King Meeko have to say to this usurper?’ Roman cried regally, bouncing his stuffed dog Bumpkin in his hands to indicate that he was speaking.
Virgil giggled and bounced in place where he sat against the foot of the armchair, carefully propped up by two pillows. His laughter mixed with the rattles coming from Meeko as he shook him.
‘Vee, what do you want Bumpkin to say?’ Logan mumbled from where he sat beside Patton on the couch.
A happy hum rolled from Patton’s chest. It was rare that they got a chance to sit together while both boys were little, but Virgil had gotten surprisingly fussy when Logan tried to sit with him on the blanket. It seemed the excitement of being with Roman had chased away his languid energy and he wanted to sit alone with his brother while they played.
Despite Patton’s increasing panic at seeing his little baby sitting all on his own, not in his arms, Patton felt comforted by Logan’s closeness. It meant he could run his fingers idly over Logan’s thigh as Logan’s arm draped heavily across his shoulders. He took the rare moment of casual intimacy in stride. Usually, they had to sneak around while the boys were asleep to cuddle and kiss. Though since he had spoken so openly about their relationship with Roman in the dining room, and seeing as Virgil was either unbothered by or unaware of their displays of affection, they allowed themselves this intimate moment.
‘A-ababa,’ Virgil babbled, pointing to the soft toy in Roman’s hands.
Roman sucked in a pained breath through his teeth. ‘Oof. That’s brutal, Vee.’ It earned him a bright symphony of babyish giggles.
Over the next few minutes, Patton brought his cellphone out to take pictures of the littles. Then when Logan pointed out that he had taken more than twenty almost identical photographs, Patton rolled his eyes with a playful nudge to his partner. He would have easily taken a thousand pictures if it meant he could remember this day by the adorable scene in front of him, rather than the blunt, heavy regret hammering away within him. 
‘How old is Vee right now?’ Patton wondered aloud, partly because he was watching Virgil through his phone screen. Partly because he just needed Logan’s voice to drown out Roman’s sorrowful words from earlier that kept replaying in his head.
‘Going by his babbling and playfulness,’ Logan replied, ‘I would place him around eight or nine months.’
All of the breath wrung from Patton’s lungs as he snapped his gaze onto Logan. ‘Months?’
Not seeming to notice Patton’s shock, Logan continued watching the boys with a gentle smile and nodded.
‘That’s way younger than he usually is…’ Patton placed his phone down on the couch, feeling shaky all of a sudden.
‘I am not so certain.’ A thumb started circling softly over Patton’s knuckles as Logan explained in a low murmur, ‘At first he told us he regressed from two to five years old. Though I have been observing his behaviour over the past few weeks, and I believe he has been greatly mistaken in this estimation.’
The soft material of Logan’s slacks bunched between Patton’s fingers. ‘What, do you think he’s not that old?’ The new information bombarded him with the horrible thought that he hadn’t been doing his job as a father if he hadn’t even noticed how old Virgil was when he regressed.
Gaze fixed on their boys, lips fixed in an oblivious smile, Logan went on: ‘Nothing I have seen of his regression has suggested he is ever older than two and a half years - though even then, being that old is rare for him.’ He tilted his head in thought, which would have been adorable had Patton’s vision not been pulsating with his frantic heartbeat. ‘I wonder whether he misunderstands developmental stages, or whether it is simply a case of him being unaware of his own behaviour patterns.’
‘What ages does he actually regress to?’ Patton whispered. He stared intently at Logan, desperate for the answer that he had apparently been too incompetent to see for himself.
With utmost confidence, Logan said, ‘Three to twenty-four months.’
Hot tears sprang to Patton’s eyes. ‘Three months…’ he echoed under his breath. Practically a newborn. With a gulp, Patton’s watery eyes settled on Virgil. A newborn who had been alone for so many years.
His wet eyes being glued on Virgil’s steadily blurrier form, Patton was startled when he felt Logan’s arm pushing insistently at his shoulders. Within seconds Patton was on his feet and being swiftly ushered into the hallway. His heart lurched when the blue and purple blob fell out of sight as he was guided past the corner of the doorway and the tears finally fell to his cheeks.
‘Your dad and I are right outside if you need us. Keep playing with your little brother,’ Logan’s voice said, then the door was pulled mostly shut and Patton was surrounded by long, warm arms. ‘What’s wrong, Patton?’
It all happened so quickly that he had no hope of burying his emotions, so Patton didn’t speak. He just clung to Logan and sniffled into his shoulder, thinking about what he had learned. About Virgil being so young and consequently about everything he had ever had to deal with on his own. The loneliness, the accidents, the bullies.
Patton bit his tongue through a wave of overwhelming anger. Over the course of the next minute, he simply took in deep, shaky breaths, glad that Logan did nothing but tap out one-second intervals on his back to aid his breathing.
Then, just as he thought he had overcome the worst of it, a babyish giggle rang from behind the living room door.
A sob wrenched its way from Patton’s throat.
‘My love, please tell me what’s wrong,’ Logan pleaded, his voice gentle though pained.
‘Sorry,’ Patton choked, pulling his face back from Logan’s shoulder to scrub his sleeve over his eyes. When he opened them and caught the utter sincerity in Logan’s concerned expression, the tears started anew. What exactly had Patton done to deserve such a wonderful man?
Patton couldn’t bear to hold back his lament any longer, keeping quiet so as not to upset the boys in the next room. ‘He’s just so - he’s literally just a baby. He’s innocent and - and vulnerable and -’ his voice wobbled and broke off with a shuddered breath. As he recollected all Virgil had told them of the hate he received on his blog, that same boiling rage oozed through Patton’s entire being. It stung and made him tremble. Like poison. ‘I can’t believe those horrible people would bully him for it!’
At the hissed tone, Logan’s face crumpled with a wince. Patton was ready to vehemently apologise for himself - about to claim he had no idea where that came from, it wasn’t him at all - until Logan said, ‘I know. I am angry too.’
There was no way Patton could have predicted how comforting those four words were. They doused the fire in his chest and left him dumbstruck. The raging indignance that had been snapping and flaring within him all afternoon suddenly disappeared and all that was left was a smouldering, pathetic sorrow.
Patton slumped back into Logan’s arms in defeat.
‘He was on his own for so many years, Lo. It’s bad enough he couldn’t look after himself,’ Patton whispered and shook his head, Logan’s shirt rustling faintly with the movement, ‘but on top of that some strangers attacked him just for - for -’
‘For trying to feel safe,’ Logan finished, twining his fingers gently in Patton’s thick hair.
Delighted, squeaky laughter echoed from the living room.
‘Not everyone is accepting.’ The deep voice vibrated in Logan’s chest. Patton held onto him tighter. ‘It is an unfortunate reality in both Thomas’ world and ours, and I understand it is upsetting. As much as we would like to, we simply cannot protect our boys from every possible threat.’
The icy pang of dread in Patton’s gut was twice as toxic as the scalding anger from before. What was Patton’s whole purpose if not to look after his family?
‘Virgil was not completely helpless to it, though,’ Logan continued. ‘He disabled anonymous asks without being prompted to do so. That shows he had the foresight to prevent it from happening again. He was protecting himself.’
Gentle shivers radiated over Patton’s scalp as Logan’s fingernails combed through his hair. ‘That’s meant to be our job,’ he argued weakly, ‘and he didn’t even tell us about it.’
‘Not at first,’ Logan conceded. ‘Still, that does not mean he did not trust us.’ Then Logan pulled back from the hug, leaving Patton cold. ‘You know how reluctant he is to share things that he perceives as embarrassing. Your conversation with him yesterday proves as much,’ he said, turning and walking down the hallway.
‘Where are you going?’ Patton shrieked, his hands curling into tight fists by his sides.
Logan looked back in shock. Then he carefully reached out to pick up the tissue box that sat on the cabinet by the staircase. The movement was slow, and Logan watched Patton all the while as if he were a startled animal that had to be monitored.
Shame flooded Patton. ‘Oh. Sorry, just… not done cuddling you yet.’
A soft smile replaced Logan’s frown and he brought a couple of tissues back to Patton, holding him again and dabbing at his itchy eyes. ‘I didn’t realise you would be competing with a box of tissues for my attention,’ Logan chuckled.
Patton knew it was a joke, of course he did. He loved jokes and he loved that Logan was finally comfortable enough in himself to make them without fearing people's opinions of him. But suddenly the heat in his chest was reignited.
‘Why didn’t you just summon them?’ Patton asked flatly.
The tissue that Logan stroked over his cheekbone faltered.
‘You always say how important it is that we don’t challenge the mindscape,’ Patton went on, glad that this topic had distracted Logan enough from his sudden clinginess. ‘I don’t think I’ve ever seen you summon since you realised the whole - what’s it called?’
‘Equivalent exchange,’ Logan supplied, blushing. It was he who realised that the programming he had set up for their mindscape to follow real world laws of physics glitched whenever the sides took advantage of their powers; summoning an object would make another of similar mass and/or sentimental worth disappear, and breaking the laws of physics would train the mindscape to disparage Logan’s carefully crafted code. For the sake of stability in their environment, they had long since all agreed to sacrifice the convenience of summoning unless in emergencies. Logan most of all, which is why Patton was so shocked when he saw he had summoned a baby book earlier. ‘I understand it was hypocritical of me to break my own rule. I apologise, it won’t be happening again.’
Patton nodded. He didn’t want Logan to think he was upset with him, though he was satisfied that he had redirected the conversation effectively. ‘What was so urgent about a baby book anyway?’
‘I could not think of anything to calm Vee down,’ Logan explained, pocketing the crumpled tissue as Patton’s face was perfectly dry by then. ‘Regretfully, I acted quite impulsively in response to his crying.’
‘Oh no, was the poor thing upset?’ Patton asked, all harsh emotion replaced by softness and concern for his little one.
With a soft sigh, Logan leaned forward to press a kiss to Patton’s forehead. ‘You know how his separation anxiety is,’ he murmured against his skin, lingering there.
Patton frowned at Logan’s chest. ‘He still has separation anxiety?’
‘Of course,’ Logan said, putting some distance between them to look down at him.
‘But,’ Patton blinked rapidly, ‘earlier he was okay with me leaving and he - he hid from me, I thought -’
‘Patton, it doesn’t disappear from one positive experience,’ Logan explained, his arms still wrapped around Patton’s shoulders. ‘It may have been dimmed momentarily though it is still very much present. I believe it may be a permanent fixture of his headspace, simply due to the ages he regresses to and his anxious nature.’
‘Oh… okay.’ It was hard to know what else to say. Earlier Patton had thought he was proud of Virgil for overcoming his separation anxiety. But hearing that Virgil would perhaps never get over it sent a wave of warm comfort over Patton. He wanted to smile, but the fluffy feeling was sullied by something. Something distant that he couldn’t identify. Something unpleasant.
‘Do you know what time it is?’ Logan asked softly, spoken as if it were a love confession.
Patton instinctively reached into his pocket, only to come out empty-handed. ‘Sorry, I must have left my phone in -’
A featherlight touch at his lips made Patton fall silent: Logan’s fingertips. He could feel Logan’s pulse thrumming through them.
‘It’s later,’ Logan whispered, his eyes swimming with utter adoration. Then the soft fingertips were replaced by softer lips and Patton fell into a dream.
They floated together for a while, suspended in the short space between their hearts. After a few gentle pecks and a quick swipe of tongues, Logan pulled away.
‘That was sweet,’ Patton whispered airily, letting his eyes flutter open. Then he saw that Logan was frowning deeply at him.
‘Patton…’ Logan licked his lips and grimaced a little. He started chuckling, ‘Just how much lemon did you put in your tea?’
It wrenched Patton from his dreamy state.
Guilt. The unpleasant feeling that was sullying his emotions was guilt. Guilt because how could he think himself supportive of his family if in the face of their developments his response had been extreme jealousy? So extreme that he had had to literally suck on a lemon to pull himself out of it.
As if that weren’t awful enough, Patton had actually felt happy when he learned Virgil would continue to be distressed by his separation anxiety.  He had failed his baby, just like he had failed his little prince by neglecting him and not recognising his insecurities. He had failed at being a dad; the one thing he thought he knew. Why was he even trying to be a caregiver when he kept accidentally hurting his family?
Roman called loudly from the living room, ‘Dad?’
A switch flipped in Patton’s brain. No, he wouldn’t give up. His boys needed their dad and that had to be him. No matter how many mistakes he made, how wrong he was, Patton would never let go of the only thing in the world he could do. He would never let go of his purpose. The one thing he lived for.
He was nothing if he couldn’t be Papa Patton.
He slipped right past Logan, not caring to check his reaction to Patton’s avoidance. With a huge smile, Patton bounced into the living room. ‘What’s up, my majestic little songbird?’
It was immediately clear why Roman had called.
Where Virgil had been sitting on the blanket before they left the room, giggling and rattling Meeko excitedly, both boys now sat. Roman’s arm was thrown over Virgil’s shoulders protectively, supporting the younger boy as he swayed and blinked slowly. His eyes were decidedly teary and he was tugging at his pacifier again.
‘Oh, my sweet little baby,’ Patton cooed, rushing over to them. The storm of guilt and jealousy cleared from his mind in an instant, leaving him a little light-headed. It was replaced by a muffled determination and affection that made everything seem softer around the edges.
Dropping to his knees, Patton pulled Virgil into a hug. There was a little whimper, and then his shoulder was immediately used as a hiding spot for Virgil’s face. ‘What happened, Roman?’ Patton asked, leaning back against the foot of the armchair. He rested his hand atop Virgil’s head and felt as though his heart had started beating for the first time in hours.
‘He just froze and went super quiet all of a sudden,’ Roman explained, letting go of his brother and collapsing back onto the blanket with a pout. ‘Then he didn’t wanna play anymore.’
‘It’s all right, Roman,’ Logan said, settling onto the floor beside Roman with a reassuring pat on his knee. ‘Virgil can play with you again another time.’ He began clearing the mess of various toys on the blanket, assembling them into an ordered line.
‘Are you upset, baby?’ Patton whispered, rocking Virgil slightly in his hold.
As was to be expected, there was no answer. Virgil only hid his face against Patton more fiercely.
‘Perhaps it was the separation anxiety.’
Patton nodded faintly at Logan’s suggestion, but internally he knew that wasn’t it. In the past, if Virgil was anxious about being separated from Patton he was much more vocal in his upset; sobbing and whining loudly. Plus he certainly hadn’t heard Virgil calling out for him before Roman beckoned him in, so Patton remained doubtful that that was the issue.
Another difference became obvious as Virgil hugged Patton tighter, forcing Patton to hunch down a little to accommodate it. Where Virgil would always scramble into Patton’s lap at being reunited with him, this time he had remained on the floor with his legs pulled tightly to his chest. Patton experimentally nudged Virgil’s knees to convince him to lower them but was met with a whine and Virgil’s whole body tensed up.
As Patton shushed his baby and swayed him back and forth, he just knew. There was no solid thought process he could attribute to his realisation. He thought it must have been his paternal instincts (which sent a rush of pride through him). Though regardless of how he knew it, Patton was quite certain that Virgil’s diaper was wet.
Then Logan spoke. ‘I think I would like to -’
‘I’m handling it,’ Patton assured firmly without looking up from his baby.
There was a short while of silence before Logan spoke again. ‘I was going to say I would like to play Pooh Cards with Roman.’
Shame flooded Patton’s mind. He chased it away by rubbing soothing circles on Virgil’s back.
‘Oh yeah!’ Roman cried, jumping up from the blanket so fast Patton was surprised he didn’t fall face-first to the floor with the momentum of it. As he bounced in place he grabbed and tugged on Logan’s hands. ‘Mom, Mom, Mom, quick, come see!’
There was a slight reluctance as Logan raised to his feet. ‘I said I would play with you Roman. Please do not pull me.’
Patton rolled his eyes. Roman was merely excited, and he knew his own strength. It wasn’t like it hurt Logan. There was no reason for him to be so strict with their little prince.
‘Are you sure you two will be all right?’ Logan asked, and his voice actually wobbled.
Logan - who always kept a steady, calm voice even in moments of distress - was presumably so worried about leaving Virgil with Patton that his voice had actually wavered.
Patton had to unclench his jaw to reply, ‘Of course we will, I’m his papa.’ It came out far more snappish than he had intended. He ran his fingers through Virgil’s hair, using the soft tendrils to distract himself from the sinking feeling in his chest. ‘I mean - he’s okay. I know what this is.’ Finally meeting Logan’s gaze, Patton offered a small smile that he knew didn’t meet his eyes.
‘Okay, love,’ Logan said softly, lovingly, and Patton knew he didn’t deserve it.
Then Logan led Roman out of the room to fetch the card game and the papa and his baby were left alone.
For a minute they simply sat, Patton still swaying them gently. Going by the fact that Virgil was no longer whimpering, it was clear the cuddle was soothing him. Patton too felt himself relaxing as their bodies moved as one and their breaths synchronised.
Over the course of those few quiet moments, Patton’s worries all seemed to float away. As if Virgil were a calm breeze, clearing the muggy clouds of guilt and bitterness from Patton’s mind and replacing them with crystal clear skies. Patton nuzzled his nose into Virgil’s hair and breathed deeply, feeling as though he hadn’t tasted oxygen until that very second. There was no other feeling in the world that could compare.
‘Come on, sweetheart. Let’s have a proper cuddle.’
There was no protest as Patton shuffled both of them up into the seat of the armchair. Virgil kept a tight hold on Meeko all the while, clearly afraid of dropping the toy. Admittedly, Patton had hoped he would have an opportunity to check Virgil’s diaper during the movement, but their positions simply didn’t allow for it. As soon as they were seated with Virgil on Patton’s lap, the regressor whined and hurriedly wriggled off of his legs to squeeze into the small space between Patton and the armrest.
‘It’s okay, honey,’ Patton murmured, letting Virgil curl up to his side instead. His knees were flush with his chest once more; hiding his lap on instinct, Patton realised.
‘Dad!’ Roman yelled, skipping back into the living room with a bright smile. ‘Mom really likes my game and says I’m really clever!’
Feeling Virgil jolt at the sudden noise, Patton carded his fingers through his hair softly. ‘That’s wonderful, sweetie,’ he said, trying not to feel disheartened by the interruption to his and Virgil’s time together. ‘I think you’re very clever too.’
Roman appeared to vibrate. ‘And - and n-now Mom is gonna play with me!’
‘Well, I hope you win, little prince,’ Patton chuckled, enamoured by Roman’s sweet enthusiasm. Then he put on a loud stage-whisper, ‘Try to get the Tigger card!’
A deep gasp sounded from the doorway. ‘I heard that, Patton!’ Logan entered the room with a look of mock-offence. He held a red sippy cup in one hand and the stack of Pooh Cards in his other. ‘I cannot believe you’re conspiring against me.’
Patton giggled, twirling a lock of Virgil’s hair around his pinky. ‘I’m a supportive dad, I have to be on Roman’s side!’
‘Hm, I suppose I can concede that,’ Logan grumbled, throwing a quick smile Patton’s way. He handed Roman his sippy cup, praising him when he said, ‘Thank you’.
There was a quiet whine from Virgil and Patton rocked him a little. He was probably upset by the others being so close given his shy headspace at that moment.
‘Come here, little one,’ Logan called, moving to sit by the coffee table at the other side of the room. ‘I need you to teach me how to play.’
Roman did not react.
‘Sweetie, that’s you,’ Patton whispered, reaching out to squeeze Roman’s hand.
A blush overtook Roman as he looked over at his mom, a smile forming on his lips. ‘Me?’
‘Of course,’ Logan nodded. By the casual shuffling of the Pooh Cards in his hands, it almost appeared as if Logan didn’t recognise the gravity of calling Roman ‘little one’, though Patton knew his partner better than that. He knew that Logan must have noticed Roman’s need for coddling in the face of Virgil’s younger headspace.
Patton grinned as he watched Roman rush over, sitting as close to Logan as was physically possible.
Then he felt Virgil trying to burrow into his shoulder further and looked down. The boy’s neck was noticeably strained by the action since he had to stretch awkwardly seeing as he wasn’t in Patton’s lap like he usually was.
‘Do you wanna sit in Papa’s lap?’
A slight nod came in reply.
‘All right, on three. Ready?’ Patton secured his arms around Virgil’s back and under his diaper. ‘One, two… three!’ As he easily lifted Virgil onto his lap, he took the opportunity to subtly pat and pinch the diaper through the fabric of his onesie. Definitely wet. With a swell of satisfaction at being correct in his assumption, Patton lowered Virgil to his lap and kissed his head.
It hadn’t gone unnoticed though. Once he was sitting on Patton’s thighs, Virgil immediately whimpered and hid his face behind Meeko.
‘It’s okay, baby,’ Patton reassured, rocking him again. ‘Papa was just checking if you’re still dry.’
The explanation was met with a tiny squeak. Virgil lowered Meeko, revealing his pink cheeks and rattling the toy once more. Though he did not shake it with the same vigour he had earlier; this time Meeko was gently waved to and fro quite lazily. ‘Bababa,’ Virgil mumbled.
Apparently, the diaper check had comforted Virgil and reinforced his younger headspace. Patton sighed and held his baby closer. That was just utterly adorable.
Logan cleared his throat quite pointedly from the other side of the room, and when Patton met his eyes he mouthed silently: Is he dry?
Patton responded with a slight shake of his head. Then, strangely, he felt his lips curl into a smile. Even stranger, Logan mirrored it, and Patton was quite sure they must have been thinking the same thing:
That Virgil had had an accident again, but this time there was no sobbing. There was no hyperventilating. There was no panic attack. In fact, the only indication he had wet himself at all was the fact that he had been pushed back into his sleepy baby state, and that wasn’t a bad thing whatsoever!
Looking down at him now, it was clear to Patton that the diapers were a hugely positive change for Virgil. Despite his lethargic energy, his dimples were showing at the sides of his pacifier which bobbed lazily in his mouth. As he rattled Meeko softly, his eyes sparkled with babyish curiosity. He was calm and happy. It soothed Patton immensely.
oOo
As their time together went on, Patton and Virgil cuddled and played so much that it was impossible for Patton to wipe the cheesy grin from his face. He had rocked Virgil gently, tickled his cheek softly to watch him blush and giggle, dutifully kissed Meeko whenever Virgil held the toy up to Patton with a smile, and now…
‘Are you ready?’ Patton asked in his most exaggerated baby-talk voice. ‘Is my baby ready for more bounces?’
Virgil giggled and kicked his feet a little by Patton’s hips, facing him in his lap. Meeko was hugged tightly to his chest as he nodded.
‘Ahhhh…’ Patton started, securing his grip on Virgil’s shoulders. ‘Bouncy, bouncy baby!’ He bounced his legs on each syllable, making Virgil bob up and down in his lap with little squeals of happiness. ‘What a cute little stormcloud!’
Sweet laughter continued to tumble from behind Virgil’s pacifier. ‘Baba, g-gen!’
‘Again?’ Patton repeated, chuckling. They had been doing this for several minutes by that point, and his legs ached from the constant lifting. But who was he to deny his baby when his eyes glittered with such joy? ‘Okay. Last one, sweetie.’
There was no protest, only a squeak of anticipation. Virgil really was a sweet baby.
‘Ahhhhh… bouncy, bouncy, bouncy, bouncy baby!’
Delighted laughter escaped the pair and danced in the air surrounding both of them. Then Virgil smushed his face into Meeko and made a strangled, high-pitched sound. It was a common verbal stim when he was overwhelmed by happiness.
‘Oh my goodness,’ Patton gushed heartily, huddling Virgil closer in his lap and wrapping him in a tight hug. ‘You are the sweetest, squeakiest, most adorable little baby in the whole world.’ He emphasised his point by pressing a great number of kisses to Virgil’s cheek in quick succession.
Virgil suddenly whined quite desperately and pushed at Patton’s chest to be released from his hold. Feeling a rush of concern, Patton held Virgil at arm’s length, still supporting him but trying not to crowd him. ‘I’m sorry, was it a yucky feeling, honey?’ he asked, fearing he had set off Virgil’s sensory sensitivities.
Though Virgil still smiled and promptly held Meeko up in front of Patton’s face. 
Patton bit his tongue through a wide smile. ‘Why hello again, Meeko! Would you like some kissies too?’
‘Mnh,’ Virgil hummed insistently, rattling the toy a little.
Chuckling, Patton leaned forward and pressed a loud, ‘Mwah!’ right on Meeko’s button nose. When he pulled back, Virgil dropped Meeko to his lap and held Patton’s cheeks softly between his hands.
Patton was frozen in place. His brain simply couldn’t handle the adorableness.
‘Dad, Dad, look!’
Patton held Virgil’s hands softly to stop him from squishing his cheeks for a moment. Looking over to the coffee table, he saw that Roman was holding a full deck of Pooh Cards up to him with a triumphant smile.
‘Yay, you won again!’ Patton cheered, laughing when Virgil giggled and poked his cheeks again. ‘Well done, my clever little prince!
‘He’s a complete expert at this game,’ Logan said, stretching his back with a click. It must have been an awkward position to be sat on the floor hunched over the coffee table for so long (though exactly how long Patton wasn’t sure, he didn’t care to check the time.) ‘I don’t think I will ever be able to outsmart you at Pooh Cards, Roman.’
It was clear that Logan had purposefully let Roman win every game from the snippets of laughter and dramatic sighs Patton had heard as they played. Though Roman either hadn’t clocked it or didn’t care about it going by his extreme happiness.
‘How about we have some hunnypots and haycorns to celebrate?’ Patton suggested, knowing the cookies would have been set by then.
‘Why don’t you and Virgil go and pick them for us - only one each,’ Logan hastily added with his eyebrows raised at Patton. It was a fair point to make; as much as he and Logan didn’t care much for sweets and would be happy enough to share one cookie between them, Patton probably would have let the boys have several if that’s what they so wished. He was grateful Logan was there to be a sort of filter for his blind generosity sometimes. ‘Meanwhile, I think Roman and I may need to expel a bit of excess energy.’
By him and Roman, Logan obviously only meant the creative side, who was currently shaking and fidgeting quite energetically in his place on the carpet. It was true that a quiet card game was quite a rare activity for the hyperactive boy, as was obvious by the energy overspilling from him.
Patton nodded, holding Virgil closely against his side as he stood from the armchair. ‘Okay, let’s go pick some yummy cookies for everyone, baby!’
As Patton carried Virgil to the kitchen, he heard Logan set up the soundtrack to The Tigger Movie on the speakers. It was followed by the unmistakable sound of Roman launching to his feet and starting to jump and dance around.
‘All right, can you look up for me, Vee?’ They were stood in front of the rack of multicoloured cookies now. Virgil lifted his head from Patton’s shoulder and made a hum of interest when he saw the treats. ‘Good boy. Now you’ve got a really important job: I need you to pick some pretty cookies for everyone!’
Virgil pointed at himself with a surprise in his eyes.
‘Uh-huh,’ Patton nodded, jostling Virgil further onto his hip with one arm as he picked up a plate from the drying rack.
‘Baba,’ Virgil mumbled, and Patton looked down to see he was pointing at a cookie that had gone slightly wrong. It was originally a haycorn but as the cookies all spread in the oven it had been crowded against the corner of the baking tray, becoming misshapen and wonky. It was coated in pink icing.
‘This one?’ Patton lay the plate on the counter and picked up the cookie to hold it in front of Virgil.
‘Wub!’
‘You love it?’ Patton asked.
Virgil shook his head and pointed at it again. ‘Harp!’
‘Oh, you’re right,’ Patton smiled, looking at the cookie in a new light. ‘It does look like a heart! That means it’s a special love cookie.’
‘Beshul?’
‘Very special.’ He pressed a kiss to Virgil’s head. ‘Just like my special little baby. Do you want this one, honey?’
In response, Virgil suddenly pushed at Patton’s hand and the cookie got lodged between Patton’s teeth. He giggled in surprise, pulling the cookie back out of his mouth. ‘You want this to be Papa’s one?’
‘Wub Papa!’
Just as Patton thought there were no more harsh, icy emotions in him to thaw, he positively melted at Virgil’s innocent love confession. He smiled and placed the cookie on the plate. ‘I love you too, baby. I think me and Mama can share that one. Now do you wanna pick one for your brother?’
After some quite serious deliberation, Virgil had decided on a green haycorn for his brother and a yellow hunnypot for himself. Patton carried both his baby and the plate of haycorn cookies back to the living room. The hunnypot cookie was held in Virgil’s fingers as he suckled on the edge of it (Patton had stored his pacifier in the pocket of his cardigan, making a mental note to invest in a pacifier clip for the future). It seemed their bouncing game had tired him out once more, as Virgil’s head promptly dropped back to Patton’s shoulder once his task was complete.
‘I’m putting your cookies on the table, you two,’ Patton announced over the sound of Tigger’s theme song once they had returned to the living room. He swerved himself and Virgil around Roman as he bounced (and Logan who bounced only when Roman looked at him, then stopped once Roman looked away), careful not to bump anyone as he lay the plate on the coffee table.
Patton then settled into the middle of the couch with a sigh, letting Virgil drop to his lap again. Thankfully the music was not overly loud and Virgil seemed unbothered by it as he sucked quite lazily on his cookie.
‘Is that yummy, sweetheart?’
The soggy cookie left Virgil’s lips and was held up to Patton’s. He humoured his baby by pretending to nibble it and humming in enthusiastic approval. ‘Ooh, that’s lovely! Mm-mm, very yummy. Thank you, Vee.’
It satisfied Virgil as he smiled and continued sucking on it himself, nuzzling further into Patton’s hold.
Soon Roman had gotten tired of bouncing and Logan switched the music to set up the next chapter of their Winnie-the-Pooh audiobook, claiming that it was quiet time now.
While Logan was preoccupied, Roman had finished his cookie deftly in three bites (making Patton giggle) then he approached the couch quite shyly. ‘Dad, can I…’
‘You wanna cuddle too?’ Patton asked softly, smiling in encouragement.
The acknowledgement of Roman’s unspoken request was apparently enough permission for him and he practically jumped into the spot beside Patton.
‘Excuse me, I believe you are in my spot,’ Logan announced on his way back to the couch. As Roman made a noise of offence, Logan pulled him up from the seat to collapse into it himself.
‘Hey, I was -’ Roman started whining, but cut himself off with a yelp when Logan swiftly tugged him back down into his own lap. Roman’s cheeks flushed pink and he clammed up.
‘You were saying?’ Logan asked in a lightly teasing tone.
Patton shook his head at their silliness. It was strange that whenever the two showed affection to each other they seemed to want to set it off with jokes and teasing. Though as Patton rocked Virgil in his lap delicately, he realised it wasn’t really for him to judge how they showed affection. As long as his family was happy, he was happy. And it was clear from Virgil’s sleepy hums and Roman’s blushing cheeks bunched in a smile and Logan’s soft chuckles that his family were all perfectly happy.
His gaze dawdled a little on his partner until Logan’s eyes met his and softened, crinkling with a smile. Patton bit his lip and looked down, feeling bizarrely like a shy, lovestruck teenager.
‘Dad, can I have a kiss?’
The question threw Patton a little, not ever having heard such a blunt request for affection from Roman. It was unexpected but made Patton extremely proud of his son for being brave enough to ask.
‘Of course, little prince!’ He leaned up slightly to press a firm kiss to Roman’s cheek, noting a very light stubble there.
‘And now Vee!’ Roman immediately cried once Patton had sunk back to his seat.
Patton chuckled at Roman’s strange antics, but complied, pressing a softer kiss to Virgil’s head. The baby squeaked and buried his cheek further into Patton’s shoulder. Some gingerbread crumbs littered Patton’s cardigan, but he hardly cared.
Then Roman spoke again, ‘Now Mom!’ His voice was all childish innocence, whereas his eyes screamed pure scheming adult.
A short, surprised huff escaped Patton as he looked over to Logan. His cheeks felt warm.
‘Well,’ Logan hummed, his lips pulling into a shy, crooked smile, ‘I suppose you have kissed everyone else.’ He looked down at Patton expectedly. ‘It’s only fair, right?’
Patton thought his face would split in two with how he beamed with a smile. No more hiding, no more sneaking around. Not needing to be told twice, he pushed forward, thankful that Logan leaned down to meet him in a quick kiss. It was entirely chaste, lasting a fraction of the time all of their previous kisses had done, but it lingered in Logan’s blush and Patton’s smile as they pulled back from each other.
The look of absolute calm in Logan’s eyes instilled such an overwhelming feeling of content in him that Patton had to take a slow, measured breath. Everything is going to be all right, Logan’s eyes seemed to whisper. I love you and I believe in you, I believe in us, and I believe in our family. We’re all going to be all right.
And Patton believed that. He knew things weren’t perfect, that they might never be. That Roman would not overcome his insecurities overnight, that Logan was still struggling to balance sternness and playfulness, that Virgil still struggled with asking for help and that they would have to deal with the repercussions of Virgil coming out of this new headspace likely confused. Reluctantly, Paton also acknowledged that there might have been something to his own caregiver headspace that was less than ideal if his jealousy and clinginess earlier were anything to go by.
Still, in that exact moment, everything was fine. They weren’t going anywhere. They would continue to be a family no matter what. They had plenty of time to address these difficult things. Presently, Patton just wanted to appreciate the rest of the evening in peace.
‘Is everyone ready?’ Logan asked, holding his phone up to show that the audiobook was ready to play.
Virgil breathed deeply, still sucking his cookie. Roman nodded and scurried back in Logan’s lap to lean back against him.
When Logan’s questioning gaze turned to him, Patton simply nodded and shuffled on the couch to rest his head on Logan’s shoulder. ‘Ready.’
A gentle kiss from Logan pressed to his head and Patton held Virgil closer with one arm while reaching to hold Roman’s hand with the other. He knew now that the perfect family wasn’t possible. Though being surrounded by the three people he held dear in his heart, Patton also knew that this was the closest anyone could get.
‘Chapter Ten, in which Christopher Robin gives a Pooh Party, and we say good-bye…’ 
⤛ The End ⤜
oOo
Reblogs and likes are greatly appreciated! ♡
AO3 link | Bonus chapter
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arrowdaily · 4 years
Link
Superheroes, like the rest of us, never really die. They live on in the people they leave behind. Heroes like Oliver Queen return every time they’re remembered fondly, a lesson they imparted is taken to heart, or an ideal they championed is fought for. They pave the way for the next generation, which will pick up the standard that they established and see that it prospers and grows. While it’s okay to grieve and mourn the passing of your favorite superhero, always remember that their legacy lives on.
Arrow’s final season ends next week, and while Oliver’s story may be reaching its conclusion, the world he shaped and sacrificed for lives on—and no one embodies that more than Mia Smoak. Oliver’s wayward daughter we were introduced to last season, Mia has had a remarkable journey that included meeting and fighting alongside her father in the leadup to the Crisis that ultimately cost him his life.
Perhaps the most astonishing thing of all is that journey is just beginning. Tonight’s penultimate episode of Arrow, “Green Arrow & the Canaries,” is a Mia Smoak-centered hour that reveals what her life is like after the hard reset that took place at the end of “Crisis on Infinite Earths.”
“This sets up the new future—the new 2040,” explains Kat McNamara, who plays Mia. “Mia’s grown up in a perfect Star City, in a place where she got to grow up with her mother and brother. She’s had every opportunity at her fingertips and has never known any sorrow or sadness other than the fact that her father was never a part of her life. She’s very smart, cunning and has the same wry sense of humor that we know and love, but she doesn’t necessarily have a passion or spark, or anything that really lights that fire in her because given the information that we have, we know what that fire is for Mia.”
That spark comes by way of two familiar faces—Dinah Drake and Earth-2 Laurel Lance—who show up to investigate a kidnapping that has ties to Mia. Of course, both Dinah and Laurel are dealing with the Arrowverse’s strange new world as well.
“Dinah is in a place where she doesn’t understand why she’s there, but she’s settled into it,” explains Juliana Harkavy, who’s held the role of Arrow’s Black Canary since season five. “She’s trying to make sense of this new world that’s been created. In a lot of ways, she’s brand new herself. She’s just discovering herself.”
It’s not much of a spoiler to say that the reacquaintance of these three remarkable women ultimately leads to Mia embracing her destiny as Oliver’s daughter and taking up the mantle of Green Arrow—it’s right there in the episode title. But this is a very different Green Arrow than we’ve seen before, and it’s not just because there’s now a young woman behind the mask. Mia’s previous life as a vigilante has been erased from her memory at the start of the episode, leaving behind a hero with a much different set of skills.
“She has social skills,” shares McNamara. “She has social graces. She interacts with people and she has this joy that we have never really seen before.”
That certainly has an impact on her approach to becoming the new Green Arrow.
“What Mia brings with her—at least, the old Mia—is a very cutting sense of being a survivor,” McNamara explains. “She’s had to go through so much and survive so much that she’s never had the same compassion that Oliver has for a lot of what she does. But now that we have this new version of Mia, she does have that compassion. She has these social skills and social graces that really do inform her character in a new way. It’s a very interesting interplay in the way that things are done.”
Of course, that new way might create some problems for the people not accustomed to it—like Laurel and Dinah.
“It’s complicated!” Harkavy says with a laugh. “We’re all figuring each other out while figuring ourselves out. We’re coming from a very different place in our lives and a very different perspective.”
“At this point, things between them are contentious at best,” adds McNamara. “Just given that Mia has grown up with a life that she views as pretty perfect, and then these women show up and throw a monkey wrench into everything. All of her relationships, everything she knows and loves is suddenly upturned. Mia and Laurel and Mia and Dinah have had their differences in the past, and that’s definitely true now as well.”
While Oliver Queen has had a few different proteges over the years, both in the comics and on the show, it’s been clear that Mia would be the one to follow in his footsteps ever since they introduced her in a series of flashforwards (which tonight’s episode pays off in a big way). That was cemented in “Crisis on Infinite Earths” when Ollie had a special Green Arrow suit commissioned for his time-displaced daughter. Whatever thoughts fans may have on this unique-to-the-show character, they should know that Mia certainly takes the mantle with the utmost respect.
“Given that she got to witness firsthand how her father was a hero, she’s doing everything she can to honor that, follow in his footsteps and do him proud,” says McNamara. “At this point, she doesn’t feel prepared, ready or even worthy to take on his mantle. Despite all the past conflict with her father, she really does respect the hero that he became and the legacy that he built. She views him as a hero.”
Harkavy certainly thinks Mia is ready. “Mia is a direct connection to Oliver, to the Green Arrow, to the legacy,” she explains. “She’s the root. It wouldn’t make sense for anybody else because in a way it’s the same character, but it’s also completely different. I believe Mia is the perfect hero for this story.”
That story, hopefully, isn’t going to end very soon. Arrow’s cast and producers have made it pretty clear that “Green Arrow & the Canaries” is meant to serve as a springboard for a possible spin-off series. However, with a total of six Arrowverse shows now, landing on the exact shape of the potential new series took some time.
“I learned about this episode at some point during season 8 of Arrow,” shares McNamara. “I was told that one of the episodes would be a pilot, but they didn’t really have the concept down yet. It went through many different iterations, but it was a really lovely collaborative process with Marc (Guggenheim), Beth (Schwartz) and the whole Arrow team. Given that we had to shoot this between the crossover and the series finale of Arrow, I give so much credit to the entire Arrow team—the creatives, the writers, our crew, who are impeccable.”
One thing McNamara will certainly get a lot of training in, should the spin-off move forward, is archery. Stephen Amell claims to be a pretty solid archer. McNamara, on the other hand, feels like she’s halfway there. Literally.
“The way we do things on the show is we never fire live arrows,” she explains. “A bow is such a long-distance weapon that if you have a camera six feet away from you, it’s not safe to be nocking a real arrow for anyone involved. All of the arrows are actually CGI. We dry-fire the bow, which is awful for it, but it’s the safest way to do things. So my form in drawing the bow is amazing. We have an incredible archery coach on the show who kicks my butt every time and whips me into shape. That part of archery I know a lot about, but I’m really not sure what my aim is like.”
With any luck, she’ll have many more years behind the mask to find out.
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infinitymalec · 7 years
Text
anguish, love, grief and heartbreak
This is a reunion fic for Malec for 2x20. In reality it’s not plausible at all - Izzy’s supposed to be with them when fighting the demon, and I’m not actually certain of if how it ends could actually work, but it’s magic, so it should be able to. In any case, I took creative liberty with Izzy’z presence, or lack there of. Nevertheless, I hope this is enjoyed! 
After Magnus leaves Alec alone in the hallway, they don’t talk.
Of course, professionally, they do what they have to. But it’s far too painful to warrant small talk, and, even at that, small talk is not what they want; and small talk is at a level so low that it is one they refuse to stoop to. That, to them, would truly signify an end. And even though the world is keeping them from being together in so many unlawful ways, that end feels like every single flash of grief, heartbreak, pain and loss the two have felt in their opposite lifetimes, and neither of them are ready for that final curtain to draw. They never really will be.
So yeah. They don’t talk.
But when Magnus finds out about the giant flying demon wreaking havoc all over New York City, he doesn’t hesitate. There is not a single part of him that attempts to persuade against leaving the safety of his apartment because God, even if they’re no longer together, there is also not a single part of him that doesn’t love Alec; not a single part of him that doesn’t want for him to be okay. Sharp twists deep in his stomach inform him that it is Alec, it must be his Alexander, taking on the demon, likely alone, as stupidly heroic as he is, and suddenly he can’t breathe. His spine tingles with the intensity of it all, and he’s left the apartment by the time it’s really registered in his head that he’s creating a portal.
Magnus arrives, and there is immediate fury etched into his veins.
Craning his neck up to the sky, Magnus’ hazardous breaths come to a shattering halt as he realises the magnitude of what they’re up against. The demon could very easily be mistaken for a dragon, he muses. It’s black, and grainy, and roaring, and going after the city he loves and in particular the man that he adores more than ever before, and his anger grows. How dare something like this go after Alexander? How dare something try and rip Alexander away from him?
Seeing Alec running frantically away from the flying demon with something Magnus could only describe as pure terror on his face splits his heart into even smaller pieces than it was in previously. It’s, therefore, not difficult to summon all the strength and magic in the world to fight against this monster. Hazel eyes meet brown, and with a harsh but understanding nod to each other, they get to work.
Alec helps alongside Magnus, firing arrows seamlessly into it. They make a good team. They always did.
Eventually, the monster is weakened. It’s hard, after all, not to cower in the face of such a strongly united partnership, and Magnus, stupidly, regrettably, and he’ll later hate himself for doing it, takes a short breather. Just a second, to allow his magic a reprieve; a chance to refresh. Under normal circumstances, this would be okay. Under normal circumstances, this would be fine. But Alec is there. And Alec is too self-sacrificing for his own good. He loves freely, and fully, and he’s a protector. He’s a protector through and through.
So when the monster aims a direct blow at Magnus, there is no hesitation when Alec throws himself in front of it.
Magnus sees this, and breaks. If he had been holding back with his magic before, he is definitely not now. Seeing the deep, dark blood falling out of Alexander’s shoulder allows the tears that had been threatening all day purely from exhaustion and now from heartbreak to fall down his cheeks. He can see the burns, sizzling on Alec’s skin, and daring to taint something so beautiful and precious to Magnus Bane, the High Warlock of Brooklyn, is the biggest mistake someone could ever make.
Magnus yells when he kills the demon. It’s a daunting sound, because it’s anguish, love, grief and heartbreak all harshly blended into one. With that, the demon has been defeated, disappearing into thin air and leaving only a million shards of skin and black ichor behind.
Magnus is free, now, to fall beside his love, knees hitting the ground with a hard crack as he makes a hectic attempt to save him. Alec’s eyes are barely open, and the tears roll impossibly faster out of the warlock’s eyes, which are unguarded and unglamoured for the world to see. Of course, the world is seeing them right now, because Alec is trying determinedly to stare into his eyes, and there has never been anybody in Magnus’s long lifetime to make him feel as wonderfully complete as this silly Nephilim.
A devastating sob cracks out of Magnus’s chest. “It’s going to be okay, Alexander, do you hear me?” he sobs, biting his lip, pouring magic into Alec’s wound. “We’re gonna get you okay.” And Magnus is trying, he’s trying so hard, really, but it feels like they don’t have enough time. They never have enough time. They’re always interrupted by someone, something… but this is the one that truly breaks Magnus. He’s trying his absolute hardest to make it all alright; to make Alexander okay again. But his skin is visibly paler and his eyelids even closer to closed than they were before.
So whilst Magnus is working, Alec manages to force an arm up to grab feebly onto his grey jacket and whisper a heartbreakingly only soft, “I love you.”
Magnus doesn’t stop working, but he stares down at Alexander and swears, “No, Alec. Don’t say that; you’re not going to die. Please, everything’s going to be fine.”
Alec shakes his head slightly. “No, let me, please.” It’s painful, so painful, but Magnus needs to know. Alec’s voice comes out in a hoarse murmur. “Magnus you- you changed my life. And you’ve made me so happy. But there’s no time. We should have gotten more of it. I wish that.. I wanted to give you more time. I love you.” Tears fill his eyes. “I love you, Magnus Bane.”
And his eyes shut. And Magnus feels sick, able to feel the nausea creep up his throat from the unfairness and the sheer pain magnitude of it all. Because, God, does he want more time with this beautiful Nephilim. He wanted more time than he would ever be allowed. And he hadn’t said it back. God, how couldn’t he have said it back?
Magnus screams this time, a noise which is wrenching and unpleasant and jarring. But it works, because it summons something inside of him. Magic that he’s never before touched pours into his veins and dances precariously on his fingertips until it falls into the air, and into healing Alec, because there is no way that Magnus is giving up on him yet.
But that’s all he can do, now. His magic has worn too thin, and he’s done all he possibly can. Now, all that can be done it to sit, and wait, and hope that it was enough. Sit, and wait, and hope that, for once, he was enough.
He collapses in a heap onto Alec’s bloodied chest, sobbing apologises out jumbled with confessions of infinitely strong love and all of a sudden there’s a weak arm holding onto his back, holding him to Alec’s chest, begging him to never leave, to never let go.
And there’s also a voice, soft and stupidly teasing. “I told you that we would always find our way back to each other.”
This is all it takes for Magnus to jump up, the brightest smile he’s ever worn gracing and brightening his features, tears still falling out of his eyes. He grips Alec’s face between his hands, and leans down to pepper multiple kisses along his face and finally a searing one on his lips.
And, before it’s too late, he says, determined more than ever to ensure Alec believe it, “Alexander. Alexander, I love you.”
Alec says it back, a small but pained smile on his face. The magic had not healed everything, and he’d need a lot of rest and Iratzes before he’s fighting fit again. But when he says it back it’s said with conviction, and hope, and honesty.
Magnus leans down to hug Alec once more, whispering into the crook of Alec’s neck, “I’ll never love anybody the way that I love you.”
Alec’s face beams with the knowledge of how much Magnus truly adores him. Maybe, just maybe, he’ll believe it for the rest of eternity.
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theseventhhex · 7 years
Text
HDLSS Interview
Far & Wolfy
HDLSS is a “nocturnal pop” duo from Ridgewood, NY, consisting of Far and Wolfy. ‘Selections from DUMB’ is the latest release from the duo since going on hiatus in 2012. Throughout, the range within the album explores celebrating the hope that it is possible to inhabit relative truths and think independently in a fractured post-truth era. Furthermore, embracing the multiplicity of truth and inhabiting as many POVs as possible to increase empathy also plays a key factor. For Far, as a Muslim, this is a guiding principle to avoid feeling jaded, because witnessing the demonisation of Muslims everyday gets tough. Grappling with the notion of complicity and cultural apathy, ‘Selections from DUMB’ brings to light the stark perils of modern society, whilst refreshingly maintaining a thought-provoking overall stance… We talk to Far about genre-hopping, false flags and spirituality in America…
TSH: Talk us through the idea of witnessing one's own dumbing down being central for your album 'Selections from DUMB'...
Far: The core narrative of the album came more from a personal place than trying to make a political statement or anything like that. I started writing the album as I was going through a pretty transformative period, and in the wake of this period, I began examining where self-destructive impulse comes from, as well as inclinations towards groupthink/my fear of losing the ability to think for myself (and not realising it). I wanted to delve into the notion of losing your creativity, of embracing consumption more than production which I kind of equate with dumbness. Inevitably the record also has a fair bit to do with technology, including the odd effects of the rise of social media and modern anxieties. I guess I see the album as this simultaneous out of body experience where you see yourself going on this trajectory towards destruction, yet you can’t help but exist in this tunnel vision because you are too numb, dumb and tired to really understand the gravity of the long term effects, so we end up just going on autopilot, doing what the hive mind tells us to do.
TSH: The instrumentation throughout the release covers a vast array of genres too…
Far: That's something that comes naturally because Wolfy and I are not versed in any one thing. Our friendship dates back to high school, when we were both really into post-rock and in love with Sigur Ros. Our pre-HDLSS stuff was more one genre, but now we are at a point now where we are more concerned with shaping sounds no matter their origin or context, ugly or beautiful, as opposed to focusing on any one instrument, like a guitar. Musically we are capable of diving into many genres and doing our take on them, so that’s kind of what we did, and often whatever genre we were working within aides the concept or story the song tells. Basically for us any sound is fair game if we can record/produce/sample/manipulate it, which ends up stripping the normal context and creates something new and transformative. Soon instruments and genre will be obsolete.
TSH: What lead to the notable shift in your overall sound?
Far: The shift happened when we got this new recording program Abelton. Previously, we used this early 2000’s DJ program I got free on a rebate, and we embraced using broken instruments and whatever was laying around, and then we would manipulate and add effects sort of creating electronic music out of organic instruments. But, once we got Ableton, we switched over to doing everything electronically. This was both an aesthetic choice and a necessity. It definitely opened our possibilities infinitely, because suddenly we had literally every instrument that has ever existed at our fingertips virtually. And for me, it allowed me to focus on more nuanced aspects of songwriting.
TSH: How would you sum-up your lyrical expressions?
Far: I like to create some distance between myself and the writing, so the words are sometimes an exaggerated narrator’s point of view. But mainly they draw from real life, usually something conceptual or philosophical that is grounded in something experiential.
TSH: What are the origins of a track like 'Colonizer'?
Far: That track underwent quite a few changes. It started off as a trap song, but eventually it morphed into a Caribbean sound and rhythm, so we just embraced that, kind of mirroring the whole “tropical house” trend white pop music like Ed Sheeran or Bieber. The lyrics are about appropriation, it's sort of an open letter to white people that deny white guilt and privilege.
TSH: Were you intrigued to put across a song in relation to conspiracies with 'False Flag'?
Far: Yeah, I was definitely intrigued. That track came from influences of my brother, he kind of goes down the rabbit hole with that stuff. I mean there are the obvious ones like 9/11; it's almost indisputable at this point to know that there was some inside communication or knowledge of the events taking place on that day. The question of a building being able to free-fall in that manner via a plane has been widely disputed by many experts within the field. Then there are the extremes, like Sandy Hook and how it could have been crisis actors. There are all sorts of stuff and I don't know how much I buy into, but that's the point behind the song. It's not about whether it's true or not, but instead that it provokes questions and expands the narrative. After all, the truth is just a spectrum and it's very hard to find truth in the media anyway.
TSH: How did you go about forming 'Cult of Dumb'?
Far: That one is made out of samples entirely. We downloaded stems from this band we love Twin Sister posted on their site, and at first we were going to do a remix, but instead it ended up being a cover/mashup of 2 of their songs (that is actually coming out soon). I then took that file and cannibalised some of the sounds to make an entirely new song. That actually happens a lot with us where remixes turn into a new song entirely, and I end up making new vocal melodies. Making that song out of samples was intentional to reinforce the idea that no-one really owns anything, as the song is about the cult of capitalism, and how we are addicted to the things that dumb us down.
TSH: Do you very much feel that's there's a lack of spirituality in America?
Far: Yeah, for sure. I'm not necessarily critiquing Americans and I'm not really pessimistic as a person. If anything, I’ll criticise myself before I criticise someone else. But it’s something I see in myself. Growing up as a South Asian American, I was more concerned with assimilating and being accepted as an American and not being singled out as the one brown kid in school than maybe embracing my own culture as much as I should have. I moved around a lot as a kid, so it was hard to ever really fit in mostly white schools, but music definitely helped me form my identity and find like-minded people. Music brings me peace and is even spiritual for me. But now at this age when I reflect on past depression and this void that has been central to my life, I do recognise the value of religion and spirituality. I find it sad that assimilation in this country is sometimes at the cost of one’s culture/religion/spirituality. I see that in my family and how certain cultural things have been lost, which is true for any immigrant family. Maybe Americans aren't as religious because being pacified by quick fixes is the American way, but I'm guilty of that too. The lack of spirituality is a critique of my life in America too - how I've lived and how I can change that.
TSH: Did your parents growing up in Kenya impact you at all?
Far: Yeah, in some ways. Both of my parents are from Kenya, they met in England and my dad went to school in England before moving to America for graduate school. Both of them came from large families and I think placed America on this pedestal, as many people around the world do. America was a chance to change things and achieve more. So I think sometimes when immigrants come here, some are quick to embrace American ways and perceive the West as better. People growing up in post-colonial societies bring baggage of white superiority complexes. So it’s easy to come here and kind of lose the essence and spirituality because America replaces those values, and America represents this opportunity for more, and we all want to make our parents proud and achieve more due to the sacrifices they made for us to get the chance to do so. So yeah, I think in those ways it does affect me, because I am only realising now the damage done and my responsibility, and perhaps how I can try and repair some of it by learning and carrying on traditions.
TSH: What gives you most clarity in your daily life?
Far: Music is definitely my happy place. I also have a day job as a teacher and I love doing that as it provides a nice counterpoint to music. I feel music is so insular, it can be selfish and self-involved, so I love the balance of teaching and seeing a direct impact on kids.
TSH: Do you kick back and watch much TV?
Far: Yeah, I love the Adult Swim kind of stuff. I really enjoy watching Rick and Morty, Tim and Eric, those Bret Gelman specials, Moral Orel… I enjoy the absurdity side of that kind of stuff, the kind of dark humour stuff.
TSH: As you look ahead, what ideas do you have in mind for future work?
Far: Well, this is our first proper full length after taking a hiatus in 2012. The work we did back then one was more DIY and hap hazard, that first record was not really thought of as an album, therefore getting this latest record done was a huge accomplishment for us. We have made so much music that we have enough for a companion album and that's how we thought of things when we set out to make this record. We want to put out more music, still under the same 'DUMB' umbrella, as we're not done with this concept because we haven't really encapsulated the whole thing, so we have more music coming. The companion to 'DUMB' will be more personal and more narrative driven, as opposed to using genre to tell stories and concepts; I think it might be more accessible too, ha! More immediately than that companion album are two other works, one is a covers EP, and the other is a remix album. So lots to come!
Selections from DUMB
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