#Logan also needs therapy but he's just better at faking it

[thesandersinitiative]

Shouldn't you guys be trying to get a plan in place for what your gonna do with remus once you find him, and how your gonna capture a literal god? Not to mention he has not only de but probly close to 30 if not more agents on his side. Instead of you know bickering, like littel kids.

“I think you’ll find I’m rather efficient at multitasking,” Logan says. “I’ve had Remy maintain an eye on the news station broadcasting. So far their hasn’t appeared to be any sign of Agent Ekans or the brainwashed agents and SHIELD enemies. When we get to the location, I will engage the enemy and have Remy draw up a foolproof defense—” “What if Remy can’t?” Patton asks innocently.

Logan scoffs. “There would be no reason why he can’t. I created the software he uses to analyze enemies for this purpose. In fact you won’t even have to get out of the plane.”

“Why wouldn’t I leave the plane?”

“There wouldn’t be any need for your... outdated tactics.”

Patton laughs.

“I don’t see what is so entertaining.” Logan says.

“You want to rely solely on your computer,” Patton explains. “For someone so brilliant I thought you would have—”

Logan straightens his back, his eyes flashing with a challenge, “Have what?”

“The target is directly below,” The SHIELD provided pilot interrupts, reaching up to flick several switches.

Patton claps his hands together and then unbuckles his restraints. “Excellent! Then we can continue this conversation in just a moment!”

Logan’s head whips towards him, “Wait—!”

“War waits for no one,” Patton says in a light tone, offering a smile to the inventor as his hand hits the lever to drop the hanger door. And then before it’s even halfway open, he strolls towards it and flips himself through the opening into the empty air.

It feels like flying. Patton breathes in deep as the winds fight to tear him apart, the chill burning his cheeks in a way that the fire never had. He’s burned before; sometimes Patton feels like he’s still burning, but this cold is something so different he’d never confuse it for what being strapped to that table had been like. He locks his limbs together, holds his shield over his heart and dives through the air towards the battlefield below.

((Was this what the Soviet felt like? When he fell from that train?))

He flips at the last second, landing on the ground hard enough to break the cobblestone road under his feet, and holding his shield up to catch the glancing blow from the so-called god that definitely would have hit a citizen. The force of the blow knocked both of them back with a force that popped Patton’s eardrums.

“Hello!” Patton says with a smile, over his shield. “You must be Remus!”

Remus opens his mouth but before he can say anything there’s a loud screech that streaks through the air in a visible, physical wave and slams into him. Even Patton yelps as the man is knocked off his hit and goes flying into the stone wall of a nearby half crumbling building in a way that definitely should have broken all of his ribs. 

“Logan!” Patton shouts, glancing up to see the flying suit of armor, with the stern helmet in place to obscure exactly what Logan’s face looks like.

“Since you wanted to be here so badly, keep your eyes on him,” Logan’s voice comes out from it and gosh if that doesn’t feel like something out of a movie. Flying Robots, Gods, Siberia. 

Over the sound of screaming civilians, Patton distinctly hears some high pitched laughter— something that doesn’t sound humorous and definitely doesn’t sound happy. Remus staggers to his feet, swaying drunkenly from side to side, his horned crown slightly lopsided, and Logan lands on the ground next to Patton with his glowing palms at the ready.

“Remy, analyze,” the man says.

Remus of Vanir whistles, spinning his spear in his hand. “That eager to get in my pants? You could have just asked! X-rays take all the fun out of it!” He points the spear tip at them. “Tell me something… is your dick made of metal too?”

“Babes, his magic is off the charts. Literally.” Remy’s voice says. “I’m having trouble even locking in on him.” 

Patton smiles.

“Hmmm, then we have to do this with my outdated tactics,” Patton says, loosening his grip on his shield and spinning through his throw— which gosh if that didn’t feel great. After so long, the feeling of his shield leaving his hand, the muscle memory of his throws, the thumping of his blood in veins; it’s like excitement. It’s like being alive.

Remus shifts barely an inch to dodge the shield, letting it collide with the dented wall, bounce off the ground and ricochet back to Patton’s arm.

“Impressive,” Logan says, but Patton can’t tell with this robotic tone if he’s being made fun of or not.

“My, my, my,” Remus says, “Aren’t you two eager peepers! What happened to conversation, Mr. Blueskies, Mr. Hammer? You mortals still do that, right? Get to know each other before you try to kill each other?”

Logan’s palms glow brightly, and Patton feels his heart leap into his throat.

“How do you know that name?” Patton asks, feeling like his skin is a size too small. “That name…Tell me!”

“What? Blueskies?” Remus laughs. “Oh Captain, my Captain,” He grins, canines sharp and eyes ablaze, “Make me.”

Patton steps forward, shield front and center, and says, with every inch of calm rationality he does not feel, “Stand down and surrender,” He orders, and it sounds like a threat, a promise, “Or I will.” 

Remus twirls his spear in his hands, tapping the pointed part against his chin twice for emphasis. “Hmm…” He hums thoughtfully, as if he were actually taking Patton’s words seriously, as if Patton had not said them as a courtesy nothing more, as if Patton had not been through battle through bloody battle, had not fought half a war—as if he did not know men like Remus did not surrender until they were made to.

But Patton always asked. Fights might have been freeing, electrifying, but the blood staining his hands after were not, even if he always tried to pull his blows. Against Remus he would not have to, Patton doesn’t even think he could. 

He can’t quite comprehend how much that terrifies him. 

“Nah,” Remus decides, shooting his arm out and sending a piercing bolt of energy out of the spear’s gem with a fluid jab of his wrist. Patton plants his feet and raises his shield, but his knees buckle as the spell impacts with a bang—and suddenly he’s twenty feet back and half buried in a snowbank, blinking, “I’ve heard a lot about you, Mr. Blueskies,” He cackles, “But if you can’t even take a hit— well, I don’t think your whole ‘living legend’ schtick is gonna last much longer!”

Logan launches into the air sending another one of those shrieking blasts towards Remus, while Patton tries to remember how to breathe in. The snow is cold, a shock to his system, and arms feel a bit like pudding under his skin from the impact. He stumbles to his feet, trying to get his bearings again.

Across the square, Logan’s sonic repulsor thingy— what’s what he called it right? Patton shakes his head— tears through the cobblestone ground, as Remus dodges artfully around without being caught in a made up dance. Patton thinks he might even be singing some Asgardian drinking song, although he can’t hear the words. Then without warning, the demigod throws an empty hand up at Logan and winks. 

The subsequent green blast of magic is so bright it nearly blinds Patton to watch. Logan goes careening from the sky, crashing straight through the squares fountain. Remus jumps up after him, moving like a rabid squirrel over the unearthed and broken sections of concrete and piping and gripping his scepter with two hands to bring it down on Logan’s glowing chest.

Patton winds back to throw his shield again, but Logan is faster, rolling to the side just as the bladed tip of the spear lodges into the block where his repulser had been.

“He’s using his weapon as a morning star,” Logan’s voice says through the earpiece, ringing loud and clear through Patton’s head. 

“Got it,” Patton says and takes off after the target. He throws his shield as the demigod raises his spear again. 

“Swing, batter, batter! SWIIIIIING!!” Remus yells, knocking it out of the way and Patton dives low for his unguarded, unstable legs. They go skidding backwards, rolling over rocks and stone and each other’s limbs and gosh that crack sounded bad, but Remus’s laughter persists.

Like he thinks this is fun. Like he isn’t bleeding, like he hasn’t destroyed half a city, like he hasn’t ruined hundreds of lives today alone. He laughing like this is the most enjoyment he’s had all week and Patton’s blood is boiling inside him, burning through his skin and threatening to spill right out.

Patton lands with his hands pinning Remus down, and his head buzzing with so many thoughts that he can’t hear any of them.

“I’m actually a top,” Remus says, twisting his knees up and launching Patton off of him.

Patton hits the ground rolling, and sliding back to his feet like he’d done a million times back in the days of his Howling Commandos, his breath condensing in the air in front of him. He looks up just in time to see a flash of green light and he stumbles back—

“Patton!” His name twists mid-syllable, mutating from a shout to a gentle call, until a familiar, lilting accent is curling warm around the letters. He looks up, and the Brit grins brightly down at him, one hand clasping his shoulder, “You alright, Mr. Blueskies? You zoned out on us for a moment there?”

Patton looks at him, really looks at him, with his old round glasses cleaned roughly on his shirt. He’s not blurry, but bright, almost blindingly so, cheekbones sunken but blue eyes clear.

Wait, no—Patton blinks, feels like he’s stumbling, freefalling backward for a moment—Patton blinks and his eyes are venom green, still creased in concern, but it’s not right, not him, not—

Patton opens his mouth to protest, to question, to demand, but the Brit’s name slips backwards from his brain and he can’t quite grasp it between his fingers anymore. He blinks again, and the back of his eyelids are green and he can feel his pulse behind them, hard and fast.

The Brit’s eyes are hazel. Soft and concerned and bleeding, dripping messily from each duct like tears and staining his cheeks an ugly scarlet. He bleeds and he bleeds and he bleeds, from his eyes and nose and ears, a mottling purple bruise creeping up the side of his neck and curling painfully around his wrists and suddenly, suddenly, he’s stepping out of range, taking away his hand and his smile and his warmth and Patton—

Patton slams into the concrete beneath him. The back of his head snaps against his helmet and his eyes are spinning and there’s green smoke glowing around him—for a moment he feels like he’s drowning, and his head has just breached the waves as his lungs heaved, but then his body seizes again, once, twice, as his comm screams in his ears—

“Captain!—”

The explosion is as loud as it is violent, shredding through the room and ripping through the wall without any warning. Patton hits the ground, feeling the rumbling of the train under him, the winds of the Siberian winter mountain over him. He can hear his team scrambling through their radios as the signal screams, working around the curses in an amount of languages that outnumber the years this war had been going on for. 

“—just messed up,” a voice is saying. “You’re fighting off my creations with the power of denial? Deedee said your daddy fucked you over but I didn’t think it was that bad!”

“Patton!” the Soviet screams. Patton can’t breathe as he raises his head, as he clings to the broken railing, as he looks over and sees the Soviet just barely holding on himself. He’s outside the train car, finger wrapped around a piece of exposed metal that’s cutting through his gloves and spilling blood across his palms.

“Patton, these are just illusions,” another says far closer, almost right in his ears. Patton wants to scream. The wind is tearing through the gap in the train wall, strong enough that even his super soldier strength is barely keeping him holding on and the Soviet is staring at him with fear, with horror, with terror. His eyes are brown, brown like dark chocolate, unmistakable, unforgettable, un-illusionable. His face is half burned, half smashed, half collided with the wall and his left cheek marred by more blood than it should be possible.

“Patton, listen to me! Whatever you’re seeing it’s not—”

“Patton,” the Soviet’s lips move, and Patton can feel the infinity between his heartbeats. “Please I can’t—!”

Siberian winds are strong. Patton lunges forward, his fingers reaching, stretching, grasping and the Siberian winds drag the Soviet out into empty air, into a free fall, into the nothingness of wilderness and snow and a fall that no human, super serum or not, could survive.

Funny isn’t it? The Soviet survived the war of his homeland that ravaged the earth, survived a year in HYDRA prisoner camps that had killed more good men than the records would ever remember, survived joining the allies who never trusted him; he could have survived everything. But instead he had come in contact with Patton Hart, whose specialty has always been killing the things closest to him.

Patton is still screaming the Soviet’s name when there’s a sharp CLANG metal on stone and the train around him evaporates like fallen snow itself.

His chest is heaving, pulse rushing, and spots swimming at the edge. He throws himself to the side and heaves, spit dripping on the sidewalk. His stomach is churning with guilt and anger, running so hot he thinks his throat might burn if he actually hurls, so he presses one kevlar covered hand against his mouth to keep it down as salt burns in his eyes. 

After a moment, he hears the low hum of repulsors, and the solid clank of metal against cement. He looks up, folding back onto his knees, just as Logan places the cool metal frames of his glasses on the bridge of his nose. 

“Breathe in through your mouth,” Logan suggests, calmly, “And out through your nose. Slowly.” 

Patton sucks a breath in as Logan’s face, helmet folded back into the armor, swims into clarity before him. His stomach settles, some, and he swallows, feeling his lips curl into a familiar shape. 

“It appears there’s been a new development,” Logan informs him, once his breathing has been regulated into something resembling normal. He crouches down next to him as Patton viciously rubs his cheeks dry, more thankful than he can express at the moment. “Are you…?”

“I’m fine,” Patton says. “I’m fine.”

“You shouldn’t be,” Logan comments, removing his hands once Patton steadies, “It is expected to be disoriented after a mental attack of that severity. What I meant was—” 

“REMUS!”

Logan and Patton both whip towards the sound, Logan reaching up and tapping the side of his helmet at the sight before them: the roof of a building twenty feet away and a figure standing aloft the edge, red cape billowing in the wind, and a sword with a glowing golden hilt in his hand. Logan hisses at the sight of him, but from Patton’s very professional opinion, with moonlit glow at his back, the newcomer seems like something out of a fairytale, a dream come to life.

“Thomas, if you can hear me…” Logan says distastefully into his com, “It appears Prince Roman has, at last, arrived to take responsibility for his brother.”

End of Chapter Four

Previous Ask || Rules || Ch 4 Start || Masterlist || Next Chapter

[futurebicon]

The Lions for Dummies

Book Cover Part 1 Part 2

Dang okay, I did not expect to get 2 parts up barely an hour apart but I got excited.

CW- mention of outing, therapy, past injury

Page 12

Sirius Black (captain) and Remus Lupin (previous pt) are in a relationship (which you already knew)

Remus is pretty much the only person who can calm Sirius down. (107)

They are grossly in love but it’s very cute.

Remus helped Sirius when Sirius broke his ankle (117) and they got more feelings for each other.

Dumo (26) invited them over for dinner after realizing they liked each other so that he could play cupid. (121)

Then there was a storm and he locked them in a room together.

They admitted feelings and made out.

They were outed a few months later. (117)

They are gross all the time (94)

Page 36

The Cubs (also known as Leo Knut, Logan Tremblay, and Finn O’Hara) are dating.

Finn and Logan have been in love since Harvard but were too scared to admit it.

Finn fell in love with Leo while they lived together Leo’s first year on the team.

Then Logan realized that he also kind of liked Leo but was conflicted because of his feelings for Finn.

After failed attempts from Leo, Remus finally had to practically force them to admit their feelings.

And now they are all dating and all live together.

Oh, also Finn fake dated a girl named June, and now June’s dating Heather (Page 55)

Page 55- (this part belongs solely to @spookypotato)

If you have problems that a PT cant solve, go to Heather.

For the love of god, please go to Heather.

You don’t need to do that alone.

We have a therapist.

Our own.

She doesn’t have any work, because everyone's problems are slowly simmering inside them.

Please occupy her day. She’s bored.

We all have struggles.

You're not bothering her, it’s literally her job.

You can go to anyone on the team too.

But Heathers a professional and the rest of us will kind of just wing it.

Seriously most of us suck at giving advice.

Page 65

Don’t worry about any weird superstitions you have.

None of them can be worse than Cap and Loops. (94)

Page 94

If you see Sirius and Remus go into a random room or closet before a game… ignore it.

Just look away, ignore it.

It’s a superstition (65) that everyone could do better without but they do it so ignore it.

Trust us when we say it’s better to just pretend it’s not happening.

Page 121

If you have feelings for someone just tell them.

It’s exhausting so just get it over with.

If you don’t Dumo (26) will get way too excited about playing Cupid and lock you in a room together until you admit your feelings and hopefully makeout (more about Sirius and Remus on page 12)

Page 195

Just like we hate the Snakes (117)

We also hate Vegas.

Not all, actually really only one of them.

Greyback.

He nearly (for a brief period of time did) end Remus’s hockey career by tearing up his shoulder.

He also broke Sirius’s ribs.

We hate him.

Lions belong to @lumosinlove

Leave suggestions for more things rookies should know when joining the team.

(Someone mentioned June/Heather a while ago and so I thought why not while writing them in)

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

You’re Not Alone

heartwitchhouse request: Hey uh.. can I get Logan introducing Thomas to neurodivergent communities online?

Sure you can, babe! Thanks for the prompt!

Read on Ao3  

Pairings: none

Warnings: also...none? there’s some discussion on having anxiety, depresion, and ADHD with some self-doubt but it’s not that bad

Word Count: 2899

It’s just a little off.

 It’s not like it’s some big obvious thing that his parents immediately took notice of. It’s not something his doctor noted on his sheet and made sure to talk about. It’s not even something one of his teachers gently pulled him aside for.

 It’s just…not quite right.

He knows that his classmates don’t struggle to stare at the board or their work for like…three minutes at a time, but he also knows one of his classmates who can’t do it for three seconds. He knows the others don’t lapse into gray hazes where doing literally anything feels like an insurmountable force, but he also knows the kids that can’t even come to school on certain days.

 He knows people who are better, but he also knows people who are worse.

 He has good days. Great days. Great weeks, even. It’s just…sometimes he’ll have a bad day and he can’t help but look at everybody else who’s having a worse day.

 And here’s the thing. He knows how to work through it.

 He can put his head down and just get things done. It doesn’t matter that he can’t focus for more than three minutes, he’ll do the work he can in those three minutes and then move onto something else. Maybe he’ll get to cycle back and pick it up again later. He can shake his head to clear it and squint at his work again, just to finish this one page through the haze. He can make it.

 But it’s just that; making it.

 He can’t deny the way the polite smile from his teachers settles heavily in the pit of his stomach saying that yeah, he did fine, but he could’ve done better. The way the list of things he needs to do gets checked off by just the bare minimum, something he’s going to have to redo in just a few days, makes his hands itch. The insecurities over all the things he could have done, could have done better, all the things he’s missed, pile up in his brain until he has to shove them all away just to breathe on bad days. But doesn’t everyone struggle with insecurity now and then? This is normal, right?

 Or is it just a little off?

 “Oh, I’m sure you’d feel better if you just exercised more! Get yourself a workout schedule, there’s no better free therapy!”

 Running makes his chest feel like it’s going to explode. His arms and legs ache after the first round of whatever ‘beginner’ program he decides to try once. The gray haze only flourishes, steady as ever on bad days.

 “Just focus on your studies, I’m sure once you’ve got more structure in your life it’ll help you feel better, sweetie.”

 Work pounds into his head and he gets it done. All the things he could’ve done better stay there too, bold and bright on the page next to red slashes of ink. He puts his head down and goes, goes, goes. That doesn’t help the bad days, it just pushes them off. Then they get worse.

 “Maybe you just need to go outside more often, sunlight can do wonders for you!”

 Listen. He and the sun have an agreement. The sun doesn’t like him. He doesn’t like the sun. It’s better if they just…stay out of each other’s way. He could do without the achy headaches the bright light gives him.

 “Are you sure you’re drinking enough water? Are you eating the right stuff?”

 His budget quickly becomes strained with the amount of ‘healthy food’ he’s supposed to buy. The piles of ‘proper ingredients’ sit in his cabinet, unused, taunting him with how difficult it’ll be to figure out how to eat them. The guilt over not using them worries at his throat as he’s forced to toss them out as they go bad. He gets raised eyebrows from everyone with how often he has to go to the bathroom. The ensuing doctor’s visit is one he’d rather not repeat any time soon, even though at that point it’s just…you know those days where you’re like ‘this might as well happen? Adult life is already so goddamn weird?’

 “At least you can get out of bed most days. You seemed fine yesterday!”

 …yesterday was yesterday. And just because he got out of bed doesn’t mean anything. It wasn’t really a conscious choice, he just…had to do it.

 “You’re not nearly as bad as—“

 You know, it doesn’t really matter who they put at the end of that. The point is he’s not as bad as other people. So he doesn’t get the support that they get.

 He doesn’t get the polite nods from professors when he needs an extension. He doesn’t get the medication prescribed to him for something that he shouldn’t need because he’s ‘healthy.’ When he finally tries therapy, the therapist compliments him on how easily he’s able to hold a conversation, maintain eye contact, and asks him if he’s tried keeping a diary.

 During the nights when he can’t sleep, when the blankets feel way too rough, like sleeping on sandpaper that rubs persistently at his skin, he tosses and turns and thinks…would it be better if…

 Would it be better if it were worse?

 If it were more obvious, if he actually had depression, anxiety, ADHD, something with a name that people could recognize, or even just the freedom to say he had something…would that be better?

 He doesn’t cry every day. He can still feel things most of the time. He eats. He drinks water. He sleeps. He goes outside. He doesn’t get high or drink or do anything to try and numb the pain or escape it. He doesn’t have suicidal thoughts.

 But it still feels like he’s not quite right.

 If he were worse…people would be more sympathetic. He wouldn’t be accused of milking anything for attention. He wouldn’t get scolded for making light of other people’s problems. He wouldn’t be faking it. Is he faking it? Is he blowing it up out of proportion?

 Is it really as bad as he thinks it is?

 He finds the perfect metaphor almost by accident. He’s over at a friend’s house one day and they’re in the kitchen, getting hot chocolate to drink before starting their movie night. He opens the cupboard and pulls out a mug with flowers all over it. As he turns to give it to his friend, he notices a chip in the rim.

 “Oh, oh gosh, I, um, I’m sorry—“

 “What? What’s wrong?” His friend takes the mug from his stuttering hands and squints at it. Her brow smooths out and she laughs. “Oh, are you worried about the chip?”

 “…yeah. I don’t—I don’t think I did it?”

 “You didn’t,” she says easily, filling it with hot milk, “it’s always been like that.”

 “Oh, okay.” The black fuzzy things buzzing about his head settle at that as he leans back against the counter, ready to accept the mug of hot chocolate. It’s warm, pleasantly so, sending a rush of contentment up his arms as he cups his palms around it. “Where’s yours?”

 “I’m almost done!”

 He looks back down at the hot chocolate, shimmering brown with the kitchen light’s reflection. Tilting his head, he examines the chip in the ceramic. It’s not that big, barely noticeable, but there’s a sharp edge on the inside. He’ll have to be careful he doesn’t drink from that side. Wouldn’t do to burn his tongue and accidentally cut his lip.

 “Alright! I’m ready, let’s—ah!”

 Her yelp startles him out of whatever hot-chocolate-drinking-planning haze he’d been in, only to see his friend staring at the floor with her hands over her mouth.

 “Hey, whoa, are you okay? What happened?”

 “I, um—“ oh, no, she sounds so upset, let’s help her!— “I dropped my mug.”

 Sure enough, as he hustles around the counter, he sees the broken mug, lying on the floor, hot chocolate spilling mockingly from the remains. He sets his mug—carefully!—on the counter, looking around for the paper towels.

 “Did you get hurt?”

 “What?” Her gaze doesn’t leave the floor. “No, no, it’s just…that was my favorite mug.”

 A horrible sadness settles in his chest as he looks at her and he gently knocks their elbows. “It looks like it’s still got some pretty big pieces, we could…maybe we could fix it?”

 “You came over here to watch movies, not to fix my mug.”

 “We can do both, can’t we?”

 So there they end up, with the lights on, newspaper spread on the floor, hot glue gun, superglue, carefully piecing together broken ceramic as Finding Nemo plays in the background. By the time the seagulls are all racing around the screen, frantically yelling ‘mine!’ they’ve set the now-fixed mug gingerly on the counter, out of harm’s way, and cleaned up all the spilled hot chocolate. As the night creeps on, their eyes growing heavier and heavier, they make it through Mulan, The Princess and the Frog, and The Nightmare Before Christmas. Just before they start The Black Cauldron, his friend gently taps the side of the mug.

 “…I think it’s fixed!”

 “Wait, really? That was fast!”

 “Dude, it was like…at least six hours ago.”

 “Is that how fast superglue sets?”

 “Have you never used superglue before?”

 “Hey!”

 The sight of his friend with her favorite mug cradled in her lap makes him smile as he turns his attention back to the screen. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees her talking softly to herself, saying how she promises to be more careful next time, how she’s so happy the mug is fixed, it’ll be better now, stronger this time. And yet she still cradles the cracked, seamed thing with the same tenderness she did when they first picked up the pieces.

 He looks back down at the chipped mug in his lap. The chip is so small. It’s barely noticeable. It doesn’t make the mug leak or anything. The mug still works as a mug.

 He runs his thumb over the rim, feeling just the slightest pressure when he runs over the chip. If he tried to drink from that side, it would hurt.

 She’s had this mug for…years?

 He looks back over at the mug in his friend’s lap.

 The broken mug gets fixed.

 The chipped mug stays chipped forever.

  “Thomas?”

 Thomas blinks, looking up from his lap to see Logan standing next to him. Logan adjusts his tie.

 “You took a moment to respond.”

 “Sorry. Did we, uh, are we late for something? Did I miss a deadline?”

 There’s a blink-and-you’ll-miss-it expression that flitters across Logan’s face. Then he adjusts his glasses and it’s gone. Thomas frowns.

 “…you okay, bud? What was that?”

 “What was what, Thomas?”

 “You, uh, you made a face.”

 “I have a face, Thomas, we all have faces.”

 “But you made an expression.”

 “…I believe I am…incapable of not making an expression.”

 “Logan,” Thomas sighs, “please tell me what’s wrong.”

 Well, he certainly takes him by surprise at any rate. Logan glances around—is he worried the others are going to show up?—and adjusts his glasses again.

 “I suppose I was…perturbed,” he settles on finally, “that your immediate assumption when I appeared was that I was going to…reprimand you in some way.”

 Oh. “Jeez, um, sorry, Logan, I didn’t mean it like that.”

 Logan waves him off. “It’s quite alright.”

 “But…no, it’s not.” Thomas shakes his head. “You…we gotta talk about this…more, but that’s not the only thing you’re important for. You know that, right?”

 …well, Logan’s certainly making a face now. It’s the same one he made after Remus first appeared, after Thomas called him ‘cool.’ After a moment of savoring Logan looking a little flustered, he prompts him gently.

 “Did you wanna talk about something?”

 “Right,” Logan says quickly, shaking himself, “do you remember our conversation about neurodivergent communities?”

 Right. They’d been talking about trying to find therapists during COVID and how it would be difficult since, y’know…going outside is more than kind of a no-no. Virgil had brought up how it’s almost impossible to get a good read on whether or not a therapist would be appropriate for them without a proper appointment, which…kind of led to everyone agreeing that maybe it would be better to try just the texting one first. Logan had mentioned trying to find a group of people to talk to, not just a single person, until Janus said something about not knowing how to navigate something like that.

 Not one of their more productive conversations.

 “Since your desire to try and see a therapist seems to have stagnated,” Logan says as Thomas nods, “I have found an alternative solution that I believe might be more suited to your current approach to your mental health problems.”

 “I don’t—Logan, I don’t have—“

 The look Logan levels at him is enough to get him to shush.

 “What’s the solution?”

 “One of the main obstacles for finding a therapist or seeking help in a group setting was an unawareness of how to properly navigate those dynamics, correct?” Thomas nods. “Then it seems that a solution would be to simply find a group where you do understand the dynamics, yes?”

 “…how do I do that?” Thomas scruffs a hand through his hair. “I—look, I…I get that I should talk to someone, we made that clear but it’s just—I don’t—“

 Logan waits patiently, his head tilted slightly, as Thomas struggles for words.

 “…it’s not that bad,” Thomas says lamely.

 “But we’ve established that—“

 “I know, I know,” Thomas groans, burying his head in his hands, “but it’s just like—I don’t think I belong there.”

 “Why not?”

 “Isn’t that for people who have it worse?”

 There must be some note of hysteria in that last word because Logan blinks and eases himself down onto the couch next to him, folding his hands in his lap and waiting patiently. When it’s clear Thomas isn’t going to be able to make words go for a while, he clears his throat.

 “You don’t want to join a space in which you are not welcome, correct?”

 Thomas nods miserably.

 “This idea that you will not be welcome stems from the idea that your problems are not…severe enough?”

 “Aren’t they?”

 “Why must they be more severe for you to seek help?”

 “I don’t know, I just—what if they think I’m faking?”

 “Are you?”

 That’s the kicker, isn’t it? When Thomas looks helplessly at Logan, uncertainty probably written plainly all over his face, Logan tilts his head.

 “If you have to ask whether or not you’re faking,” he says in a soft voice Thomas rarely hears, “it’s almost certain that you are not.”

 Thomas just nods dumbly.

 “Mental illnesses can manifest in a variety of ways,” Logan continues in that same soft voice—and anyone who says Logan doesn’t understand emotion can get out—“and you do not have to fulfill a certain standard of ‘bad’ in order to seek help.”

 “But then how do I find people to—who will—who are gonna—“

 “…understand?”

 “Yeah.”

 Logan’s mouth quirks up. “When was the last time you were on Tumblr?”

 Thomas blinks. “Excuse me? Also don’t you know that?”

 “I do.” Logan gestures to Thomas’s phone. “You wanted a space where you understand how to interact with people and where talking about these types of things will not be a drastic breach of boundaries, yes?”

 “…yeah?”

 “You would be surprised at the amount of neurodivergent communities online.”

 “So why’re you asking me about Tumblr?” The second it comes out of his mouth Thomas’s eyes widen. “Logan—“

 “I am not suggesting that be your only source of help, by any means,” Logan says quickly, “but it might serve as a good starting point. You know what is to be expected from Tumblr—relatively speaking,” he corrects when Thomas makes a face, “and it will help you see that, despite what you may think, you’re not alone.”

 Logan stands, giving Thomas one last look before he sinks out.

 “…and you don’t have to be grateful it isn’t worse, Thomas.”

 Thomas looks down at his phone. He opens the app and types something into the search bar.

 Logan was right. People…people talk about stuff on Tumblr. Admittedly, it’s Tumblr, so it’s an absolute hellsite, but there is something a little reassuring about being able to just…word vomit into a post and see other people doing the same.

  Friendly reminder that people’s symptoms are gonna manifest in different ways and you’re not allowed to judge someone who experiences something different than you

  REMINDED THAT YOU DO NOT HAVE TO GRATEFUL THAT THINGS AREN’T WORSE WE DO NOT PLAY THE PAIN OLYMPICS IN THIS HOUSE

  You’re not alone.

 He’s still gonna have to figure out how to find a therapist. He’s still gonna have to figure out how to talk about this kind of stuff.

But for now, he can sit here and scroll and realize that there are words he can use to describe these things and it finally might start feeling right.

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[fakeloveaskblog]

Janus! Janus! Janus! Janus! Have you tried. dressing up in goth style!? Please do!!! I want to know your friend's reactions! How 'bout this? You wear a goth outfit (with accessories and make up [maybe put makeup on like snake scales??]of course~) for a whole day, preferably the day you're going to "couple's therapy" and see everyone's reactions!

(Words: 1447)

Janus was rotting away in his bed, buried under 3 blankets and with his snake plush tightly gripped in his arms.

"....Oh right couple's therapy....had forgotten....Sorry I totally haven't been distracted and crying a lot since the fiasco with Logan....I can try....Hopefully it'll cheer me up"

He rolled out of bed and fell ungraciously down on the floor. Sadly he didn't own any make up but he did have a lot of dark clothes. After a lot of worrying about how gross he looked he decided on a long sleeved black shirt with a dark red button up over it. He put a black corset over them to give them that poofy look he'd seen online. He added a few dark rings and necklaces he'd found over the years.

Lastly he unsurely put on a long loose black skirt that reached his ankles. He'd never worn it in public before. It'd just laid hidden in his closet for yeards, sometimes before he moved out he'd put it on when he had been home alone.

"You sure this looks good?" He asked you. You of course didn't answer. He imagine you giving him a thumbs up.

When janus got to the place the therapy was held he was over 10 minutes early like usual. He got anxious otherwise. Remy sat on the parking bench outside smoking. They’d just gotten done with their therapy.

When they saw him they took off their sunglasses to look at him better. They put out their cigarette before taking their cane and hurrying up to him. 

“Look at you Janny boy! JanJan! Janiga! Janice! You’re looking tots super good girl! Why the change? You killed your ex husband didn’t you? Took his money?”

“Yes. I put poison in his drink and let the maiden he had been cheating with find the body” Janus replied “A.....friend told me to”

“Classy”

Janus couldn’t help but blush. He hadn’t thought someone as beautiful as Remy would ever think of him as anything but gross “It totally wasn’t meant to be goth but well I have no makeup so I am more like a pretentious emo”

“Oh I know loads of those!” 

They took his hand. HOLY SHIT THEY TOOK HIS HAND. And quickly led him over to the bench. They sat him down and started looking around in their bag. He could see several bottles of pills in it, a knife and also all kinds of makeup.

“don’t worry girl! I always got some makeup with me for emergencies! Y’know I don’t wanna wear it unless my boyf is in a good mood but you never know. Alright you want like a trad goth or more like casual?”

“Never tried makeup before. Anything works!”

“Aight girl. Gotya!”

They cupped his cheek to bring his head closer. Janus could feel their cold breathe against his skin as they leaned in and instructed him to close one of his eyes. The brush strokes were so so light against his skin, it almost tickled.

Remy looked so focused it made Janus’ blushing even worse. All he could think about was how easy it would be to lean in and kiss them. Instead they took out an eyeliner pencil and carefully drew dark wings that covered his entire eyelid.

“Sawry but I don’t have any black lipstick. Is red fine? Is red the viiibbee?” 

“R-red’s fine! It’s my favorite color!” (it wasn’t) “Same color as my murdered husband’s blood!” Janus babbled out.

“That’s the spirit girl!!”

They brushed their thumb over his bottom lip before putting the lipstick on. They took out another brush and grabbed onto the hair at the back of his head.

“Can you lean your head back a little? I just wanna make sure your cheeks stand out since they already look like a dream” He of course did as told “Good boy”

Janus choked on air. He coughed pretending like it was because of the smoke still surronding Remy. They looked at him with a smile. It didn’t quite look like they were smiling at him but not completely like they were smiling along with him either.

“Alright. All done!”

They held up their phone on mirror mode so he could look at himself.....oh goD HE WAS HOT!!! For once he couldn’t only see imperfections. He just looked...good. Chill, laidback, good.

“Thanks” Janus said, a bit breathlessly.

Remy leaned their chin on his shoulder “I tried to give you a gothic Jessica Rabbit kinda eye! She’s my fav character like ever! She made me start trying feminine things”

“Oh no you totally failed. It looks horrible!” He said sarcastically.

“So true girl! It’s pretty stupid but I kinda like relate to her a lot. Like the whole I’m not bad I’m just drawn that way thing. I mean you of course know this with how you are but people will just assume things when they’re attracted to you”

Janus’ eyes widened “You- You think I would be able to relate to that??” 

They twirled his hair between their fingers. They had a soft smile on their face “’course girl!....I kinda like thinking of myself as Jessica and my boyf as Roger” They forced a fake chuckle “Y’know so many people have assumed I’m cheating on him”

“I can’t assume! I have a medical disease that makes it so I’m unable to assume!” Janus lied in a nervous flurry. He wanted to facepalm immediately afterwards. He was an idiot.

Remy laughed. A soft laugh. They closed their eyes and leaned their head back. Janus’ heart fluttered just hearing it.

They stretched their fingers one by one while their laughter died down “My fingers are sore just from doing the makeup. That’s pretty pathetic huh”

Janus gently took their hands and cupped them between his own “Not at all. You’re able to come all the way here every week and everything which certainly isn’t pathetic. Being in pain is never pathetic” He gently blew onto their hands to try and warm them them thinking maybe that would help.

They froze up as if they weren’t used to anyone not agreeing with their negative talk “Girl I’m always drunk when I come here anyway! This coffee is like 2 thirds vodka! Can never do therapy sober. Pretty stupid”

He continued to gently massage their fingers “Of course not. I don’t know why you go or why you need the cane but it’s obviously not stupid”

“fibromyalgia” They replied “I mean that’s why I use the cane. It’s a chronic pain thing. The cane helps with some of the pain. I uh also have hypersomnia but that’s a whole different thing”

Janus sent them a warm smile “That sounds tough”

“Yeah” Their voice broke slightly “Yeah it is” 

They shook their head and moved their hands away. They forced a smile 

“Cute, funny And kind huh? No wonder you have a ‘boyfriend’. Speaking off him” Remy pointed over to Remus coming down the sidewalk.

Janus went into defense at the way they had said boyfriend, almost on instinct “He sure fucking is my boyfriend! Even if he doesn’t fully look like it in some people’s eyes he’s more of a man than I’ll ever be!”

Remy held their hands up to look innocent “Girl I’m literally trans, calm your snitties. I meant that I know you two ain’t actually going to couple’s therapy. I mean it’s like obvious, Just as obvious as Certain other things about you! You’re not a subtle person! What you actually doing?”

He wanted to facepalm even harder “We- uh-”

“Picani is secreltly a succubus and he helps us summon demons to have orgies with every week” Remus filled in.

“Aww babe no inviting meee?” Remy pouted “You don’t deserve me anyway” They got up. Janus handed them their cane “Well I best be going before my bae gets anxious about my bus chrashing. See you in your wet dreams!”

“Bye Rem” Remus waved.

“Bye Rem” Remy waved back. They put their hand on his shoulder and leaned in “He’s good. Real good. You should keep him” They whispered before continuing to walk.

As soon as they had rounded the corner Remus sighed and collapsed onto the bench “They’re so pretty. I would sacrifice a goat for them”

Janus nodded along “Same”

Remus turned to him and whistled before punching his shoulder “And look at you looking like a nightmare! Which is a good thing!”

“Thanks”

“You better give me a goth makeover some time! If I already look good as a darkly clad horror I would kill, literally, as gothic”

Janus smiled “It’s a promise!”

“Great! Alright ready to fuck up Picani’s day?”

“Always”

[mimssides]

Life on Crow Avenue: Part 18

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___

Warning: Arguing, a scratch mark from a cat, and capslock!

___

For once Logan was not very focused on the music which was playing. His mind was stuck on Remus. On how tired he looked most of the time. Even in the moments when they had had a good time, like last weekend where they bought and assembled furniture together or when he jokes around at lunch, Logan could never quite blend out the deep dark rings under his eyes.

He knew that in those moments Remus did not fake his smile, that he did enjoy himself but now Logan recognized all the moments when Remus’s smile wasn’t genuine, when he spaced out, when a thought he had startled him. There were so many negative and destructive things going on in Remus’s head and Logan found himself being concerned over every last one of it, despite not even knowing what was going on.

But ultimately Logan could not nothing else. Remus had to make the step himself. He could only offer help so many times and Logan got the sense that he had done all he could. Silently Logan took a sip from his drink and glanced over to Janus. The band’s set would soon be finished and Janus had texted Patton and Logan that he wanted to talk to them.

About what? While Janus did not clarify, both Logan and Patton knew that it was about the twins. They did not have many opportunities to talk privately without them being around and today was their chance as both Roman and Remus had told them they’d stay at home for the night.

The song ended and the people in the bar clapped for a moment. Patton gave Logan a wary look and scooted around in the booth for a bit, as Janus eventually approached with a drink in his hand and settled down next to the pair.

“I hope my performance did raise the spirits?” Janus said nonchalantly and slowly rotated the glass in his hand.

Trying to sound convincingly happy Patton said: “It was great as always!”

“You don’t look so chipper though, dearest Patton.”

Logan clicked his tongue. He had a dislike for mind games. He had a dislike for manipulation. He had a dislike for Janus’s way of talking seemingly carelessly when he knew very well that it was perfectly constructed to get what he wanted. And right now, Logan had no nerves for this.

“Of course, he doesn’t! You called us here to talk about Remus’s predicament, which is by no means a “chipper” topic to discuss.”

“Don’t you say?” Janus said with a smirk that was clearly too bitter. “And I was under the impression that talking about a suicidal man was a fun matter.”

Logan shot Janus a viscous glare and took a sip from his drink.

“But,” Janus continued, “now in all seriousness; Do you think that Remus is going to go to therapy?”

Patton cleared his throat and folded his hands on the table. Quickly he looked from one man to the other before settling his eyes on his hands when he answered: “I wanna hope so. There’s nothing else we can do anyway.”

“Hope is rather unreliable in this case. And I have to agree that we really are unable to help Remus in any way. He is certainly in dire need for professional help.”

Logan nodded at Janus’s statement and said: “Agreed. Let me add that he was rather inquisitive when I talked with him about it. I do think that he is considering it. But what he will end up doing is still undecided.”

“Good. Well, not so good but it’s more than could have been expected at the beginning. Now let’s focus on Roman-”

“Why focus on Roman? He does not need our help,” Logan interrupted Janus.

With a huff Janus threw Logan a look and then said with a bitter smirk: “No, not at all! It’s not like he has chronically overworked himself for the past nine years, is in constant fear because of his brother who could spontaneously decide to kill himself, which would also result in him losing all the family he has left. And that leaves out the obvious show of self-neglect concerning the way he dresses and how he slept on the on a mattress on the floor. No, he doesn’t need our help at all.”

Logan rolled his eyes and crossed his arms in front of his chest.

“While I agree that Roman is not in a great mental state, Remus is in immediate danger and keeping an eye on him should be our first priority. If we do not do that it will only cause to worsen Roman’s state.”

“And putting Roman on hold even longer? Making him feel like his problems are not as important as Remus’s? You do understand that it will make it even more difficult for him to reach out for help, don’t you? He has a right to be cared for just as much as Remus! He needs to feel important, not like the second-hand friend! He has a right of our compassion as well, not only Remus!” Janus voice got heated but not loud and the veins on Logan’s forehead popped up.

“Guys...” Patton mumbled for naught trying to stop this from escalating.

“I beg your pardon? When exactly did I treat Roman like a second-hand friend?!” Logan asked clenching his jaw.

“Let me recall... Did Roman not almost flee from his own flat so you could talk to Remus? Did I misremember that?”

“Hold on! You are twisting the facts! He left on his own accord and neither you or me could stop him from doing so. And you weren’t protesting either to be alone with Roman! You are biased by him and I will not accept you talking down to me just because you figuratively cannot get into Roman’s pants!”

“You-”

“Okay, time out for both of you! Please! This is getting us nowhere!”

Finally, Patton had enough and grabbed both men’s wrists before they could talk any further. Both reluctantly stopped and Patton let go of them again. Slowly, he looked from one to the other, giving both disappointed looks before he took a breath and nodded to himself.

“Thank you,” Patton said calmly still watching both of them. “Now, uh, I think both of you actually have a point... Remus and Roman are very co-dependent and we need to be aware of that. Like – I think they both need support. Just. Differently. Roman definitely needs attention. Needs to be seen and praised, I think. He was so happy dancing and performing for us, so we probably could encourage him a little more to do that? And for Remus... While we can’t really do more and shouldn’t pressure him, I think, we should show him that we stand behind him. That we want him to get better.”

Neither Janus nor Logan spoke for a moment. Patton took a nervous sip from his beer, a little unclear of why nobody spoke and tried to calm himself. He didn’t think that the others were silent because he had made a good point. Because he was right and more objective in his opinion than they had been.

Janus sighed and was about to give in when he felt his phone buzz and took it out of his pocket. He furrowed his brows as he saw Virgil’s name on the screen and opened the text message.

Favourite Nephew: need your help at the twins come over asap

In his life after the accident Janus had run very few times. Once after getting Latona away from her boyfriend. Once when Orcus’s wife needed the ride to the hospital when she got in premature labour with their first baby. Once when he rushed to Virgil’s high school when he had his worst panic attack.

Now he could add one more time. Panicked he stood up, grabbed his cane to carry it by his side and called to the bartender over his shoulder: “Put it on my tab!”

And with that Janus began to run as well as he could. The clear voice in the back of his mind said he was overreacting and that his running was inefficient and would most likely hurt him more than help. But the heart pounding in his chest cried and told him to go faster. And so, he went faster, until he finally got to the door of the twins’ apartment and tried to open the door. It was unlocked and for the first time in 23 years he ran up the stairs.

With little thought Janus got to the apartment door and opened it quickly, already having mentally prepared for the worst.

He had prepared wrong.

Virgil was snorting with laughter as he steadied himself against the couch, Roman was cursing facing one corner of the room while gesticulating aggressively. And in approximately the middle of the two men Remus stood cradling something white and furry in his arms.

There were a few things rushing through Janus’s mind in that moment. None of them were how much his leg was hurting or how strange it was that neither Logan nor Patton had out run him despite them obviously having followed him, since he heard their quickened breathing behind him. One of them was why on earth Roman was cursing against the wall and why Remus held this fluffy thing like one would hold a baby and why Virgil was laughing like a maniac.

But most presently there was the sense of giant relief settling in Janus’s head. Laxly he set his cane on the ground and took the weight of his left leg. With his shivering hand he massaged the bridge of his nose, hiding the weak smile on his lips, as he sighed loudly enough for Virgil to hear it and turn towards him.

“What the fuck have I been called into?” Janus asked with a mockingly annoyed tone and Virgil tried to calm himself as Remus gasped offendedly.

“Do not curse in front of my child!” Remus exclaimed as he put his hand over the fluffy something’s ears, which Janus now realised was a white cat.

“This BEAST IS NOT YOUR CHILD!” Roman snapped and was about to turn when Remus barked something in Spanish back and effectively kept him from turning around.

Virgil began laughing even more and bend over holding his stomach with his right hand. Janus quirked up one eyebrow and made a few steps inside, so to give Logan and Patton more space to enter as well, while Virgil looked over to them and gave a faint wave before he tried to catch himself again.

Then after a solid minute Virgil got up a bit and wheezed towards Remus: “Please, cut – cut this out! You’re killing me! I – I oh my god, you’re comedy gold!”

“I BEG YOUR PARDON!? COMEDY?!”

“For fuck’s sake, Roman! Keep in your damn corner! He’s still bleeding and I ain’t picking you up!”

“Bleeding?” Janus chimed in worriedly.

Quickly he gave his nephew a once over again, and found that the hoodie sleeve on his left arm was pulled up and a paper towel was pressed over the inside of it, red bleeding through.

“Yeah,” Virgil said out of breath but pretty relaxed and held his arm up a little for Janus to see, “the cat got me good. She’s a real rascal that one, which is why Remus has to hold her and apparently your Romeo can’t see blood, which is why I called you over, ‘cause I cannot for the life of me bandage this arm with my right hand. Didn’t think you’d bring a whole army though.”

“Oh, I didn’t bring them, they followed me. Now, Remus, where do I find bandages and how long of a cut are we talking?” Janus asked as he walked towards Virgil.

Remus didn’t look to Janus at first but turned to Patton and Logan behind him: “Can you close the door? I don’t want her to escape. She might get startled.”

“Ah, yeah of course!” Patton stammered and closed the door.

Remus shot him a smile and then told Janus he’d get the bandages out of the bathroom in a second. And just like that he disappeared for a moment. Janus shook his head and told Virgil to sit down on the couch. He settled next to his left and took a first look at the arm. To his surprise the scratch the white cat had left was three inches long and pretty deep.

“I’ve told him to wash it out and wanted to disinfect it already, but Mrs. Snuffles here was acting all cranky when I tried to go to the bathroom before,” Remus announced from the hallway and set the bandages, a disinfectant spray and Bepanthen on the coffee table.

Janus shot him a confused look as he pressed a little kiss on top of the cats head and readjusted the little creature in his arms.

“Mrs. Snuffles?” Patton asked with a small and watery voice looking at the white cat in question.

Before Remus could answer, Roman pressed his head against the wall with a soul crushing groan.

In dramatic agony he complained: “Why did you have to name her? Oh, why are you doing this to me? We will not take in this most horrendous and foul fiend! She broke into our store and into our flat! She’s a delinquent! She assaulted the man we got to help her! She’s dangerous!”

“How can chu say dis about dis wittwe cutie! She is adowabwe and puwe!” Remus said in a silly voice which made Roman groan even louder.

Meanwhile Janus started to fix Virgil up. Carefully, he disinfected the wound and put some ointment on it. He told Virgil to let the ointment absorb a little and watched Patton and Logan awkwardly walk inside. They were watching Remus sitting down on the floor and cuddle the cat in his arms.

Watching Remus holding the animal, hearing her purr loudly while Remus pressed some little, soft kisses on her head, Janus had a hard time to imagine how she could possibly have caused such a huge ruckus before. But somehow Janus forgot to wonder as he realized how happy and silly Remus looked doting over this animal and gave Virgil a little curious look. Virgil shrugged with a grin and Janus shook his head. And just then he glimpsed over to Logan and Patton.

Oh boy. Oh boy, oh boy.

Perplexed both men stared at Remus cooing over the cat, very obviously and strongly smitten. Patton was blushing furiously and Logan’s eyes were big as plates.

Janus had to hold back a barking laugher. How quickly the table could turn.

Who was it, who wanted to get into one of the Segura Reyes twin's pants now?

___

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[artificialqueens]

Gimme Love, 3/9 (Miz Cracker/Blair St Clair) - Grinder

AN: Hey, guys! I hope yall are enjoying this fic so far! Throw me a like please if you do. TW for this chapter: Grief // Homophobia

2003 High School. The bane of my existence. Just as I thought elementary and middle school were terrible, High School really was something else. From my childhood therapy sessions, I learned to conceal my anger, avoid freakouts, and channel my emotions into other things. It was good for me, yeah. But it also made me a more reserved person. Things still made me angry, the other kids at school being a primary key to that. But I never defended myself. Ever. Of course, Jujubee always had my back. Only in later years did I learn to appreciate the times she'd yell at the other kids, telling them to fuck off and whatnot. But back then, I wished she hadn't. It only drew more negative attention. All I wanted was to get through those tough years. I would come home a lot, look at pictures of myself as a child. And I'd be so mad because only then did I see that I wasn't an ugly kid. I was adorable. But, God clearly had favourites 'cause puberty did not do me any favours. If only I had grown up in a more modern time when no one gave a shit about looks. When people were outspoken about the cruelty that came with shaming someone for their looks. When people were more aware of the psychological damage that could do. Again, God had favourites. From years of my eyesight getting worse and needing a new pair of glasses every time I went to the eye doctor, I had thick-rimmed frames that made me look straight out of the 70s. And the lenses made my eyes look huge. I looked like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. My hair was bigger but full of split ends due to lack of giving a shit about it. I begged Mom to let me bleach it blonde. She always straight up refused. I had braces for a whole year which, yeah, many people had braces, but one time while answering a question in class, I drooled. And no one let me hear the end of it. And makeup wasn't something I really fucked with. I tried it once, safe and sound in my own bedroom, and it looked woeful. Instead of working to get better, I accepted defeat in that I would always be ugly. "I'm serious, girl. The foundation was so bad. And it was too dark." I ranted to Jujubee as we headed to the bus stop. I was trying to smoke my cigarette as fast as I could before getting there. Mom never knew, and what she didn't know couldn't kill her. Of course, I didn't just go into the store and buy them myself. Instead, I took one a day from my Grandpa's supply. "Girl, you gotta test it first." She pointed out, adjusting her bag straps. "Juju, I got the lightest colour they had. I don't fucking get it. Every other girl in the school uses it. Maybelline shouldn't sell this shit." "You just need to find a different brand." She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me closer, "OK, don't tell my Mom, but I tried some of her MAC shit the other day, and my skin looked fucking flawless." She let me go, took my cigarette from me, taking a toke herself. "Well, how am I supposed to get my hands on that?" I took the cig back. "I don't see any MAC stores around here." "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what your Other World self would do?" Jujubee's brow raised, a sweet grin appearing on her mischievous face. "She would say fuck school, hop on the next bus to Cleveland and go straight to the MAC store." Blowing out some smoke, I looked at her, "Well, Other World you wouldn't be encouraging that sort of behaviour." "No, she wouldn't 'cause she'd be the first on the bus." Jujubee countered. "And she'd start the sing-song." "Yeah, well other world me would out-sing you 'cause she's a star. She's a fucking diva, bitch. Mariah Carey has nothing on her." We were too caught up in our fantasy world; we almost missed the vehicle driving past us. Only when we saw the cackling faces of the boys at the back of the bus did realisation take over. We were going to miss the bus. "Fuck." I uttered, watching the guys still flipping us off as they moved further and further away. To make matters worse, a car pulled up beside us. And of fucking course, it was Trevor Preston, the Captain of the football team. His two sidekicks were in the

back seat, Logan and Noah. "Aw, look, guys. The geeks just missed the bus." Trevor fake whined. In these situations, I just shut down. I thought it was for the best at the time, but fuck, if I could go back and punch that guy. "You know what? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Trevor?" Jujubee squinted her eyes at him. “Wow, little fiesty, Juju.” He continued, "How about this? We all say sorry, and we can both ride with us to school." 'Hell fucking no.' I thought. "Oh yeah? And what's the catch?" Jujubee raised a brow. "You let me feel your tits," Trevor smirked, his two cronies snickered. "Ah, there it is. I thought that was what your pea-sized brain would come up with." Jujubee nodded her head. "So, hey, Brianna," Trevor shifted his attention, "You're awfully quiet. Don't I at least get a hello?" I was still frozen, feeling my anxiety brewing within. "Dude, don't be so sensitive. You know, if she opens her mouth, she'll just drool all over herself." Logan added, the three axe wounds beginning to snicker again. I felt like I should have at least opened my mouth to prove them wrong, or maybe spit on Trevor's car. But still, I just stood there. "Trevor, if you don't fuck off right now, I'm gonna key your car." Jujubee threatened. "Juju." I tried to stop her. "Wouldn't even have the chance, sweetheart. Either of you bitches come near my car; you'll never walk the halls again." How gentleman-like, threatening two girls. Funny how our safety was the price to pay for a car. Oh, men. "Keep that in mind," Trevor concluded before driving away with dumb and dumber. "You didn't have to do that." I looked at Jujubee. "I'm sorry they're such assholes." She replied, taking my hand in hers. I shook it off, however. "No, I mean, I wish you wouldn't do that." Jujubee crossed her brows, "what? So I'm supposed to sit there and just take it? No fucking way." "I know. But," I paused, "they kinda scare me. You know?" "Brie, there's nothing more pathetic than a man sweating over the safety of his ride." She retook my hand, "Don't be afraid of a cunt like him." "I mean, I can try not to. But I can't make any promises." I shrugged. "Anyway, what's the plan? How are we supposed to get there on time?" Jujubee was silent for a moment before replying with, "my Mom?" Her Mom did end up giving us a ride, much to my dismay. I would have preferred to take the day off. Or better yet, to just fucking drop out altogether. But Jujubee was always there to reassure me - I adored that bitch. I would have fucking taken a bullet for her. I would like to say that it wasn't just Jujubee and me, that we had a group of more friends. But these guys, I never really counted them as friends. A year prior, we both decided to try and improve our social lives by joining a club. The only one that would accept us was the chess club. Every other member was a guy, and they were nerds. Not that Jujubee and I minded. However, the problem was that they only let us in because...well, do I even need to explain? "So, Brianna," Jimmy decided to approach me at the end of one session, licking his hand and sweeping his hair from his face. "Because I beat you twice today, what do I get?" "...Excuse me?" "My prize. What do I get??" He put an arm around my shoulders. I was puzzled, "Uh, you can have my chicken nuggets at lunch." His grin was beginning to disappear. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. A kiss, maybe?" I felt bad for doing it, but my fight or flight response told me to just run from the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but these guys were just on another level of thirst. And it wasn't just me who they flirted with. Jujubee had informed me of a time Arnold convinced her to make out with him. She was all for it until she realised how awful of a kisser he was. And as the boys became more desperate, we decided that we were better off alone. Again, I was so grateful for Jujubee. I was surprised she stuck around, considering she had seen me at my worst when we were still so young. How the fuck had she not developed

issues of her own? Jujubee was the number one reason I even found the strength to just get up in the morning, drag my ass to school, and do my work - Well, aside from wanting to get good grades so I could go to a good college. The second reason? Blair. Unlike me, she was thriving. Our lives were totally cliche - me being the kid who grew up to be the nerd who only speaks when it's to answer a question. And Blair, growing up to be the head cheerleader. And I was still very much in love with her. What a fucking cliche. I avoided Blair at all costs for several reasons;

differing social circles (in my case, lack of),

her boyfriend, who was the Captain of the soccer team and wasn't shy about giving me and Jujubee grief,

her friends,

and, of course, my massive crush on her.

So, why was Blair the second reason as to why I dragged myself to school? Her smile. That was enough. As much as I tried to avoid her, the world decided to do a big "fuck you" on me and sometimes put us into situations together. And every time, I'd be internally freaking out. The worst was when we were both 16. It was that time of the year when the school would invite someone to subject us to the most humiliating moment of our lives. How the fuck were you supposed to put a condom on a banana without bursting out laughing? How the fuck were you supposed to sit there and keep a straight face when the educator used words like 'flaps'? We filed into the class, Jujubee and me taking seats at the back of the room. We knew this was going to be hilarious, so best to avoid the attention of the teacher. "Juju, I know you are dying to make jokes during this, but I'm begging you. Please don't." I spoke quietly to her as other students filed in. "But you know I'm going to, right?" Jujubee smirked, putting her bag on the ground. "No. We wanna keep a low profile. If we laugh, we draw attention, and then we risk being singled out. You know? We'll be at the front of the class demonstrating whatever this bitch asks us." Obviously, I was referring to putting condoms on bananas and the like. Juju, however, raised a brow, "I wouldn't mind that, babe. Don't worry. We won't need to take our clothes off." I stared at her for a few seconds, unable to think of how to respond to that. Jujubee winked, and I forced myself to look away. "That's not what I meant." Blair strolled in with Denali and Rosé, already I could feel my stomach knotting. They went to sit together somewhere in the middle. "Ugh, nope. I don't think so, ladies." Ah, Miss Jaida Hall, if only I could have warned you not to say what you were about to say. Somehow Blair and the two others knew she was speaking to them. She continued, "This is an important class, and I'm not gonna have you all laughing and snickering during it." She had a point. The three girls usually whispered to each other in class, giggling about all sorts of shit. It was never anything malicious about the lesson or teachers, just inside jokes with each other, pretty harmless stuff. But it pissed the teachers off so much. "You can't be serious, right?" Denali replied, clearly scandalised. "Very serious, actually." Ms Hall nodded, "Denali, sit with Brian. Rosé, with Gigi. Blair, with Brianna." I grabbed Jujubee by the wrist, the pressure making her squeak. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. Blair was not rolling her eyes as she made her way to the back towards me. This was not fucking happening. As instructed, Jujubee stood up and let Blair sit down, moving to sit somewhere else. I was alone with the one person I tried my hardest to avoid. She slouched down in her chair, arms folded like she was already over it. I wanted so badly to ask if she was OK. But I couldn't bring myself to. And as the lights turned off and the sex-ed lady pressed play on the video player, I wished I had said something. As the way too enthusiastic narrator explained step by step the act of sexual intercourse, I tried hiding the blush on my face with my hair. I tried so hard to focus on what I was being taught. The truth was, I was still a virgin, as were many of the others in the room, I'm sure. But unlike them, I had no idea how sex worked. It wasn't something I ever gave time to think about. I felt a tapping on my hand. My body tensed as I glanced to the side. Blair was looking at the screen, then at me, then her fingers brushed against my hand. I stared back, unsure of what was happening but also knowing full well what she was doing. She leaned closer and pressed her lips on mine. … OK, that's not what happened. Life wasn't a movie. This was the beginning of the fantasies. Was I ashamed because I was thinking about Blair like that? Or was I ashamed that I enjoyed thinking of Blair like that? "This is ridiculous," Blair whispered. Was I supposed to say something back? "What do you mean?" I

whispered back. "Do they actually think we're that dumb? We all know how sex works. We don't need this stupid class." Blair rolled her eyes. I almost told her that I belonged to the small percentage that didn't know. But I stopped myself. I couldn't bear her knowing that information. Instead, I went with the awkward, "haha. Yeaaahhhh…" For the rest of the film, we sat in silence. Still trying to focus on the screen. Not the absolute stunner sitting next to me. And as if by magic, the video ended. I wanted to say I was relieved, but I couldn't lie; what I learned from the film left me nauseous. He puts his hoo-ha in her what, now?? "Well, that was really cool and hip, right?" The educator enthused. I cringed internally. No woman wearing a crucifix necklace and ankle-length skirt has the right to use words like 'cool' and 'hip'. "I know it's probably all so confusing. So that's why I'm here to answer any of your questions, dudes and dudettes." Already, one of the boys put a hand up. "Go ahead, homie." "What about the other hole?" He said with a straight face before his friends started laughing. He laughed back as he fired one of them. "You know. The back door?" Ms Hall shot him the 'look'. He was toast. The sex educator fixed her hair quite uncomfortable, "Well, there's a reason that is an out hole, young man. I warn all of you, do not go down that road. You will get aids and die. Now, does anybody else have a question?" The educator rambled, fixing her hair awkwardly. I heard the rustling of clothes beside me, and glancing around, Blair had her hand straight up in the air. "Yes, sweetheart?" Sex Ed lady pointed to her. "OK, so this is interesting and all, but I was just wondering, what about non-heterosexual sex?" Her brows knit for a moment. I looked around at her now. The breath caught in my throat. "I'm sorry?" Sex Ed lady asked. "You know. Man on man. Girl on girl. What about all of that?" Blair raised a brow. "I mean, you gotta know there's more than just heterosexual people out there. Maybe some even in this room right now." "Blair." Ms Hall began. "Because, if you disagree, then that's ridiculous. Oh, and if you think aids is some kind of death sentence, then you seriously need to educate yourself." Sex ed lady looked appalled, her Christian beliefs quite clearly threatened. "That's it. Get out." Ms Hall stood up. Blair huffed, pushing her seat back, lifted her bag and left the room, Ms Hall following behind. "OK. So, any other questions? Reasonable questions only, please." Jujubee was looking over her shoulder at me now, sharing the same expression I did. Thank God for lunch next period. Jujubee and I were hiding at the back of the school, in an alley between the building itself and the old workshops. The perfect hiding place for a smoke and to freak the fuck out about specific events. "Juju, she knows. She knows I'm a lesbian. She knows I like her." I paced. "I'm moving. That's it." I stopped. "But why would she speak up for me of all people? It doesn't make sense." My eyes widened. "Unless she's also a lesbian. I mean, that makes sense, right?" Jujubee had been sitting on the wall, patiently listening to my manic ramblings. The first few minutes, she was just as astounded. But the more I theorised, rambling on and on, she was over it. "I highly doubt that considering the boyfriend." "Then she must know. Why else would she say it? I highly doubt there are other gays in that class. Speaking of which, I had no idea lesbians could have sex like; how does that work. I'm gonna look into that somehow. But getting back to the point, if she did know, why would she speak out for me of all people?" My ramblings were non-stop. I tried my best to avoid Blair for the rest of the day, not that I could, considering we were both in the same last period. Blair's outburst was the talk of the school. I wasn't sure if it was a positive response or not. The only thing I did know was Trevor was pissed. "Brie, look." Jujubee tapped me. I turned from my locker and looked where everyone else seemed to be

looking. Just down the corridor, Trevor was standing over Blair, their conversation clearly heated. People were shamelessly moving closer, Jujubee following in their path. "Juju, don't," I whispered. But she didn't listen. I went after her as if it would stop her. "Trevor, this isn't that big of a deal," Blair said. "Not a big deal? Blair, do you know what the guys are saying? They think you're gonna dump me for a girl. Do you know how humiliating that is?" Trevor held a hand to his chest "And what if I did?" Blair challenged. The few people standing around cooed with excitement. "Oh, please. Don't get all cocky now that you have an audience." Trevor pointed. But Blair took a step closer to him. "What, 'cause you know you're the one who looks like an idiot? Maybe if you weren't so insecure, you'd know I would never do that to you." "Don't call me an idiot." Trevor lowered his tone, choosing purposely to ignore her reassurance. "Fine. But don't criticise me for a valid question I asked in a class you weren't even a part of. It's none of your business, no one's business for that matter." Blair bit back. "I can do what I want, Blair." "OK. Whatever." Blair brushed past him. Trevor quickly spun around, grabbing her arm. "No, we're not done having this conversation." My stomach twisted. "Let go of my arm, Trevor." Blair tugged, her voice cracking. Trevor did as was told now that the air was thick with tension, "We are not done talking," he stressed. Blair took a step back, "Yeah, we are, actually," and she turned to walk away. "If you walk away right now, we're finished." Trevor threatened. It was as if time was at a standstill, waiting for her reaction. But at the same time, it felt as though time was counting down. Like we were in a competition show. The contestant has to decide before time runs out, while the audience yells, 'DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!' No one was shouting, but you could feel everyone's excitement. Blair's lip curled upwards. "OK. Fine by me." And, finally, she walked off. The people were cooing with excitement again. "Shut up!" Trevor shouted. I grabbed Jujubee by the shoulder and ushered her back. Trevor kicked his locker, the thud echoing through the halls. That was the last straw. Knowing Trevor, he'd take his anger out on us. It was time to flee the scene. It was all Jujubee wanted to talk about for the rest of the day. Now I knew how she felt during my smoke break. But I couldn't blame her. The scene played in my head over and over again, leading to so many questions. Was there more to this breakup? Did he grab Blair like that all the time? What would happen now? Would she find a new guy? A girl, maybe? I came to the conclusion that Blair and Trevor's breakup was neither good nor bad. Bad because, as I said before, now he had more pent up anger from the humiliation of being so publicly dumped. Therefore, Jujubee and I would most likely be subject to more harassment. Good, because maybe Blair did like girls. Maybe there was still some little chance for us to be together. But if we were going to be together, there was one issue; I still had no fucking idea how lesbian sex worked. Cut to later that night, I'm in my room, sitting in front of my computer. I needed to distract myself from my thoughts of the breakup. While the scratchy dial-up tones emitted the machine, I psyched myself up. Even though I knew sex was normal to learn about at that age, it was still daunting. With shaky hands, I searched 'lesbian sex'. And fuck was it a mistake. What I wanted was educational articles, guides, etc. And what I got was porn. I watched all but a few minutes, all the painfully bad acting scenes that took place before the main event. Upon hearing the first moan, I clicked out as fast as I could. Looking behind me, Piggie was just playing with a stuffed animal on my bed. "You saw that, right?" He looked at me with perked ears. I still felt judged, so I opened my bedroom door and let him out. I needed to be exact. 'How do lesbians have sex?' And Brianna Caldwell was never the

same. My mind was opened that night. This was no mistake. This was a surprise. I couldn't look away from the computer screen, no matter how slow the Internet connection was. All of this information was all too much but not enough at the same time. And it made me feel less nauseated than I felt after watching that stupid video in class. And I built up the courage to go back to that porn site. And I watched every damn second. Then I watched another one. And another. And just one more 'cause why the fuck not? My bedroom door opened. "Brianna, I'm ordering - -" "Get out," I shouted, closing the site down like my life depended on it. But she stood there for a few seconds, eyes wide and hand still on the door frame. "Honey, are you - -" "Mom, oh my god. Can you just - -" I couldn't even form a proper sentence. She gave an apologetic look and closed the door. But she remained on the other side. "I just wanted you to know that I'm ordering pizza for Grandpa and me. Do you want some?" My forehead was in my hand now. "Yes." "What kind?" "Just…" I wanted to shout, "Pepperoni." And with that, she left. But that wasn't the end of it. When the food arrived, I waited a few minutes before going downstairs to grab a few slices. Grandpa was in the living room watching an old rerun of The A-Team. But she was there, in the kitchen, as if she was waiting for me. "Honey, look. I know you're getting to that age where you're curious about certain things and - -" "Mom, no. Please, don't do this." I whined. "I know. I know. I just wanted to let you know that this is natural, and…" she continued to deliver the same talk we all got in class. My eyes were wide, face red with humiliation. -_-_-_- 2020 I picked up a slice of pepperoni pizza, instantly reminded of the traumatic event. OK, maybe that was too strong of a word to use. But of course, you are going to dread the thought of that time your parent talked to you about sex. I walked into the living room, pizza slice in hand, trying not to dwell on the memory. "So, Brianna. Any update on the love life?" Tamisha asked. I loved that bitch; being one of Mom's closest friends, she was present for most of my life. But she always had a tendency to ask questions I wasn't up for answering. I took a bite from my pizza and answered with a full mouth, "dry." "Girl, you're almost 40." She continued. I was ready to challenge her because I was actually just 33 when Mom took her turn to speak. "Yeah, get yourself a man and make me a Grandma already." She wasn't serious. She knew I hated these types of talks, but that didn't stop her from encouraging the others. The funny thing about the time she caught me watching porn, she never clocked it was girl on girl. Of all the years I've been on this planet, I hadn't given her a clue that I was a lesbian. Would I ever tell her? I didn't see the point. From previous failed relationships and being too busy with my job, I wouldn't end up with someone anyway. But of course, I'd make an exception for a certain someone. Monét poured the first round of shots. I already knew I'd hate myself the next day. I wasn't drunk already. Just sort of buzzed. But that changed within an hour. I was hammered. Mom, Monét and all her friends were singing all the old songs in the living room. I was out in the kitchen, trying to drink 8 glasses of water. I only managed 3. Piggie ran in and put his paws up on my knee. "There he is. My baby. My fucking son." I slid down to the ground and let him sit in my lap. "How is your night going?" Just great, Brianna! Anyway, how about that Blair girl, huh? Piggie's non-existent voice said. "Oh yeah," my eyes narrowed. I unlocked my phone and opened up Facebook. And I bravely searched up her name. I say bravely because it does take some balls to go and stalk your crushes social media accounts. All it took to fuck everything up was the slip of a finger, and before you know it, you've liked a post or sent a friend request. "Let's do some digging, Piggie." I cuddled him. Immediately, she was the top result, with Jujubee

being the only mutual friend. "Yeah, girl. Infiltration." I commented as I clicked into her profile. And then her profile picture. "Holy shit." She hadn't aged. She still looked as young and radiant as she did back in high school. "What do you think, Piggie?" I showed him the screen. He glanced at it before tucking his head under his arms. The enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes. I looked at her info. 'Single'. Promising. Scrolling down to her timeline, I noticed she didn't post a lot. Fair enough. Facebook was becoming a dead site in recent years. There were just your average Facebook posts, sharing giveaway posts, a post from an old lady saying, 'Blair, this is Granny. Could you go to Walmart and get me some applesauce? Love granny xx', a shared post from a guy called George Miller. And my finger stopped scrolling upon seeing Blair holding a baby. "Oh God, we've encountered our first obstacle, Piggie," I whined. I clicked into the comments. That George Miller guy commented, 'congrats, Blair!' She replied, 'thank you, but she's my cousin's lol'. "Thank you, Jesus." I put my phone down for a moment to put my hand up to the good lord. I scrolled some more, seeing many inspirational quotes, a link to Adore You by Harry Styles. And a picture of her. With that George Miller guy. With his arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her temple. I could feel my heart sink the more I studied it. Yeah, I knew Blair and I were never meant to be anyway. But it was still upsetting. Relax. They could be friends. Yeah, that's right. Friends hold each other and act all affectionate, right?? I cuddle with Jujubee sometimes. That doesn't mean anything. Right? I needed evidence, just anything, to make it not true. I scrolled some more. There was a video, she was sitting on her sofa, with a girl playing the guitar sitting on the other end. "I've been running races on empty, Pour it up 'cause my cup so empty. Gotta make time for the real me. I've been running, I've been running on empty." And my nerves were settled again. I had only heard Blair sing a few times. She and her friends would pretend they were famous singers in early elementary years, and she'd always be the best. Then another time was in high school, at the winter talent show. I specifically remember it being A moment like this by Kelly Clarkson. It was unreal. 'Jujubee 💋💅🏽 is typing…' I clicked into Snapchat before she even had a chance to type the whole message. "Do you remember Jujubee?" I asked Piggie. Again, he was silent. 'I hope you're having fun, babe ❤ lv u'. "Thanks," was all I could manage to type. A shadow cast over me. I looked up to see Monét join me on the ground. "Hey, girl." She greeted me. "Hi, Aunt Monét." I smiled. Piggie hopped off my lap and onto hers. "Aunt Monét? Honey, you haven't called me that since middle school." She smiled. I returned the smile, only mine probably looking goofy. "I'm just wasted." "I noticed. No more shots for you anyway." She noted, taking a drink from her own bottle. "Anyway, how's the project?" "We got fucking Ed Sheeran involved." I then cursed myself internally for bringing it up. "I heard. Your Mom was telling me. Ugh, girl, why him? Why not someone like…" she paused to think, "like Beyonce. Or Lady Gaga." "OK, man-hater." I quipped, reaching over to pet Piggie. "Not true. Not all men are bad." Monét pointed out. "Speaking of which, when are you getting yourself one?" I could have given her the usual 'I don't have time for men's talk. But the alcohol said no. "Monét, I like girls." And I felt no shame in saying it. A moment of silence fell between us before she asked, "for real?" "Yeah." I nodded. "Does anyone else know?" "Yeah. Juju. And Piggie probably." I replied, leaving one more name out for the sole purpose I didn't want to get into that. "And Mom?" "Nope." She nodded. "I guess this is one of these aunty-niece confidentiality things?" "Uh-huh." I smiled. Bless Aunt Monét. "Well, no matter who you live, we still love you." She laughed for a moment before taking another drink. I knew

she was right. Maybe coming out to Mom wasn't such a bad idea. "You know what, Brianna?" She paused, "Grandpa would be so proud of you, right?" My smile slowly began to drop. Fuck, the touchy subject. "Oh, I...thanks." I thought the change in my mood was hard to miss, but Monét clearly had. "You and I ain't ever talked about him since...you know." "OK," I said quietly, feeling like my chest was a fist, beginning to clench tighter and tighter. "And sometimes, it's just good to look back on - -" "I gotta go." I quickly stood up, feeling the dark fog already come over me. I rushed from the room, my aunty calling my name and apologising. I avoided going into the living room, rushing up the stairs and racing for the bathroom. As soon as the door was locked, I let myself crumble, my face hidden beneath shaking hands, a cry clogged in my throat just begging to belt out. Mom would definitely hear it. I wasn't going to ruin her day. Absolutely not. Tags: rpdr fanfiction // s10 // as5 // miz cracker // jujubee // blair st clair // blair x cracker // denali foxx // rose // fluff // coming of age // hurt/comfort // lesbian au // highschool au // grinder // tw grief // tw homophobia [Cover image here] AN: Hey, guys! I hope yall are enjoying this fic so far! Throw me a like please if you do. TW for this chapter: Grief // Homophobia [read more] 2003 High School. The bane of my existence. Just as I thought elementary and middle school were terrible, High School really was something else. From my childhood therapy sessions, I learned to conceal my anger, avoid freakouts, and channel my emotions into other things. It was good for me, yeah. But it also made me a more reserved person. Things still made me angry, the other kids at school being a primary key to that. But I never defended myself. Ever. Of course, Jujubee always had my back. Only in later years did I learn to appreciate the times she'd yell at the other kids, telling them to fuck off and whatnot. But back then, I wished she hadn't. It only drew more negative attention. All I wanted was to get through those tough years. I would come home a lot, look at pictures of myself as a child. And I'd be so mad because only then did I see that I wasn't an ugly kid. I was adorable. But, God clearly had favourites 'cause puberty did not do me any favours. If only I had grown up in a more modern time when no one gave a shit about looks. When people were outspoken about the cruelty that came with shaming someone for their looks. When people were more aware of the psychological damage that could do. Again, God had favourites. From years of my eyesight getting worse and needing a new pair of glasses every time I went to the eye doctor, I had thick-rimmed frames that made me look straight out of the 70s. And the lenses made my eyes look huge. I looked like Bubbles from Trailer Park Boys. My hair was bigger but full of split ends due to lack of giving a shit about it. I begged Mom to let me bleach it blonde. She always straight up refused. I had braces for a whole year which, yeah, many people had braces, but one time while answering a question in class, I drooled. And no one let me hear the end of it. And makeup wasn't something I really fucked with. I tried it once, safe and sound in my own bedroom, and it looked woeful. Instead of working to get better, I accepted defeat in that I would always be ugly. "I'm serious, girl. The foundation was so bad. And it was too dark." I ranted to Jujubee as we headed to the bus stop. I was trying to smoke my cigarette as fast as I could before getting there. Mom never knew, and what she didn't know couldn't kill her. Of course, I didn't just go into the store and buy them myself. Instead, I took one a day from my Grandpa's supply. "Girl, you gotta test it first." She pointed out, adjusting her bag straps. "Juju, I got the lightest colour they had. I don't fucking get it. Every other girl in the school uses it. Maybelline shouldn't sell this shit." "You just need to find a different brand." She grabbed my shoulder and pulled me

closer, "OK, don't tell my Mom, but I tried some of her MAC shit the other day, and my skin looked fucking flawless." She let me go, took my cigarette from me, taking a toke herself. "Well, how am I supposed to get my hands on that?" I took the cig back. "I don't see any MAC stores around here." "Oh, yeah? Well, you know what your Other World self would do?" Jujubee's brow raised, a sweet grin appearing on her mischievous face. "She would say fuck school, hop on the next bus to Cleveland and go straight to the MAC store." Blowing out some smoke, I looked at her, "Well, Other World you wouldn't be encouraging that sort of behaviour." "No, she wouldn't 'cause she'd be the first on the bus." Jujubee countered. "And she'd start the sing-song." "Yeah, well other world me would out-sing you 'cause she's a star. She's a fucking diva, bitch. Mariah Carey has nothing on her." We were too caught up in our fantasy world; we almost missed the vehicle driving past us. Only when we saw the cackling faces of the boys at the back of the bus did realisation take over. We were going to miss the bus. "Fuck." I uttered, watching the guys still flipping us off as they moved further and further away. To make matters worse, a car pulled up beside us. And of fucking course, it was Trevor Preston, the Captain of the football team. His two sidekicks were in the back seat, Logan and Noah. "Aw, look, guys. The geeks just missed the bus." Trevor fake whined. In these situations, I just shut down. I thought it was for the best at the time, but fuck, if I could go back and punch that guy. "You know what? Why don't you mind your own fucking business, Trevor?" Jujubee squinted her eyes at him. “Wow, little fiesty, Juju.” He continued, "How about this? We all say sorry, and we can both ride with us to school." 'Hell fucking no.' I thought. "Oh yeah? And what's the catch?" Jujubee raised a brow. "You let me feel your tits," Trevor smirked, his two cronies snickered. "Ah, there it is. I thought that was what your pea-sized brain would come up with." Jujubee nodded her head. "So, hey, Brianna," Trevor shifted his attention, "You're awfully quiet. Don't I at least get a hello?" I was still frozen, feeling my anxiety brewing within. "Dude, don't be so sensitive. You know, if she opens her mouth, she'll just drool all over herself." Logan added, the three axe wounds beginning to snicker again. I felt like I should have at least opened my mouth to prove them wrong, or maybe spit on Trevor's car. But still, I just stood there. "Trevor, if you don't fuck off right now, I'm gonna key your car." Jujubee threatened. "Juju." I tried to stop her. "Wouldn't even have the chance, sweetheart. Either of you bitches come near my car; you'll never walk the halls again." How gentleman-like, threatening two girls. Funny how our safety was the price to pay for a car. Oh, men. "Keep that in mind," Trevor concluded before driving away with dumb and dumber. "You didn't have to do that." I looked at Jujubee. "I'm sorry they're such assholes." She replied, taking my hand in hers. I shook it off, however. "No, I mean, I wish you wouldn't do that." Jujubee crossed her brows, "what? So I'm supposed to sit there and just take it? No fucking way." "I know. But," I paused, "they kinda scare me. You know?" "Brie, there's nothing more pathetic than a man sweating over the safety of his ride." She retook my hand, "Don't be afraid of a cunt like him." "I mean, I can try not to. But I can't make any promises." I shrugged. "Anyway, what's the plan? How are we supposed to get there on time?" Jujubee was silent for a moment before replying with, "my Mom?" Her Mom did end up giving us a ride, much to my dismay. I would have preferred to take the day off. Or better yet, to just fucking drop out altogether. But Jujubee was always there to reassure me - I adored that bitch. I would have fucking taken a bullet for her. I would like to say that it wasn't just Jujubee and me, that we had a group of more friends. But these guys, I never really counted them as

friends. A year prior, we both decided to try and improve our social lives by joining a club. The only one that would accept us was the chess club. Every other member was a guy, and they were nerds. Not that Jujubee and I minded. However, the problem was that they only let us in because...well, do I even need to explain? "So, Brianna," Jimmy decided to approach me at the end of one session, licking his hand and sweeping his hair from his face. "Because I beat you twice today, what do I get?" "...Excuse me?" "My prize. What do I get??" He put an arm around my shoulders. I was puzzled, "Uh, you can have my chicken nuggets at lunch." His grin was beginning to disappear. "Oh, I was thinking of something else. A kiss, maybe?" I felt bad for doing it, but my fight or flight response told me to just run from the room. I didn't want to hurt his feelings, but these guys were just on another level of thirst. And it wasn't just me who they flirted with. Jujubee had informed me of a time Arnold convinced her to make out with him. She was all for it until she realised how awful of a kisser he was. And as the boys became more desperate, we decided that we were better off alone. Again, I was so grateful for Jujubee. I was surprised she stuck around, considering she had seen me at my worst when we were still so young. How the fuck had she not developed issues of her own? Jujubee was the number one reason I even found the strength to just get up in the morning, drag my ass to school, and do my work - Well, aside from wanting to get good grades so I could go to a good college. The second reason? Blair. Unlike me, she was thriving. Our lives were totally cliche - me being the kid who grew up to be the nerd who only speaks when it's to answer a question. And Blair, growing up to be the head cheerleader. And I was still very much in love with her. What a fucking cliche. I avoided Blair at all costs for several reasons;

differing social circles (in my case, lack of),

her boyfriend, who was the Captain of the soccer team and wasn't shy about giving me and Jujubee grief,

her friends,

and, of course, my massive crush on her.

So, why was Blair the second reason as to why I dragged myself to school? Her smile. That was enough. As much as I tried to avoid her, the world decided to do a big "fuck you" on me and sometimes put us into situations together. And every time, I'd be internally freaking out. The worst was when we were both 16. It was that time of the year when the school would invite someone to subject us to the most humiliating moment of our lives. How the fuck were you supposed to put a condom on a banana without bursting out laughing? How the fuck were you supposed to sit there and keep a straight face when the educator used words like 'flaps'? We filed into the class, Jujubee and me taking seats at the back of the room. We knew this was going to be hilarious, so best to avoid the attention of the teacher. "Juju, I know you are dying to make jokes during this, but I'm begging you. Please don't." I spoke quietly to her as other students filed in. "But you know I'm going to, right?" Jujubee smirked, putting her bag on the ground. "No. We wanna keep a low profile. If we laugh, we draw attention, and then we risk being singled out. You know? We'll be at the front of the class demonstrating whatever this bitch asks us." Obviously, I was referring to putting condoms on bananas and the like. Juju, however, raised a brow, "I wouldn't mind that, babe. Don't worry. We won't need to take our clothes off." I stared at her for a few seconds, unable to think of how to respond to that. Jujubee winked, and I forced myself to look away. "That's not what I meant." Blair strolled in with Denali and Rosé, already I could feel my stomach knotting. They went to sit together somewhere in the middle. "Ugh, nope. I don't think so, ladies." Ah, Miss Jaida Hall, if only I could have warned you not to say what you were about to say. Somehow Blair and the two others knew she was speaking to them. She continued, "This is an important class, and I'm not gonna have you all laughing and snickering during it." She had a point. The three girls usually whispered to each other in class, giggling about all sorts of shit. It was never anything malicious about the lesson or teachers, just inside jokes with each other, pretty harmless stuff. But it pissed the teachers off so much. "You can't be serious, right?" Denali replied, clearly scandalised. "Very serious, actually." Ms Hall nodded, "Denali, sit with Brian. Rosé, with Gigi. Blair, with Brianna." I grabbed Jujubee by the wrist, the pressure making her squeak. This wasn't happening. This wasn't happening. Blair was not rolling her eyes as she made her way to the back towards me. This was not fucking happening. As instructed, Jujubee stood up and let Blair sit down, moving to sit somewhere else. I was alone with the one person I tried my hardest to avoid. She slouched down in her chair, arms folded like she was already over it. I wanted so badly to ask if she was OK. But I couldn't bring myself to. And as the lights turned off and the sex-ed lady pressed play on the video player, I wished I had said something. As the way too enthusiastic narrator explained step by step the act of sexual intercourse, I tried hiding the blush on my face with my hair. I tried so hard to focus on what I was being taught. The truth was, I was still a virgin, as were many of the others in the room, I'm sure. But unlike them, I had no idea how sex worked. It wasn't something I ever gave time to think about. I felt a tapping on my hand. My body tensed as I glanced to the side. Blair was looking at the screen, then at me, then her fingers brushed against my hand. I stared back, unsure of what was happening but also knowing full well what she was doing. She leaned closer and pressed her lips on mine. … OK, that's not what happened. Life wasn't a movie. This was the beginning of the fantasies. Was I ashamed because I was thinking about Blair like that? Or was I ashamed that I enjoyed thinking of Blair like that? "This is ridiculous," Blair whispered. Was I supposed to say something back? "What do you mean?" I

whispered back. "Do they actually think we're that dumb? We all know how sex works. We don't need this stupid class." Blair rolled her eyes. I almost told her that I belonged to the small percentage that didn't know. But I stopped myself. I couldn't bear her knowing that information. Instead, I went with the awkward, "haha. Yeaaahhhh…" For the rest of the film, we sat in silence. Still trying to focus on the screen. Not the absolute stunner sitting next to me. And as if by magic, the video ended. I wanted to say I was relieved, but I couldn't lie; what I learned from the film left me nauseous. He puts his hoo-ha in her what, now?? "Well, that was really cool and hip, right?" The educator enthused. I cringed internally. No woman wearing a crucifix necklace and ankle-length skirt has the right to use words like 'cool' and 'hip'. "I know it's probably all so confusing. So that's why I'm here to answer any of your questions, dudes and dudettes." Already, one of the boys put a hand up. "Go ahead, homie." "What about the other hole?" He said with a straight face before his friends started laughing. He laughed back as he fired one of them. "You know. The back door?" Ms Hall shot him the 'look'. He was toast. The sex educator fixed her hair quite uncomfortable, "Well, there's a reason that is an out hole, young man. I warn all of you, do not go down that road. You will get aids and die. Now, does anybody else have a question?" The educator rambled, fixing her hair awkwardly. I heard the rustling of clothes beside me, and glancing around, Blair had her hand straight up in the air. "Yes, sweetheart?" Sex Ed lady pointed to her. "OK, so this is interesting and all, but I was just wondering, what about non-heterosexual sex?" Her brows knit for a moment. I looked around at her now. The breath caught in my throat. "I'm sorry?" Sex Ed lady asked. "You know. Man on man. Girl on girl. What about all of that?" Blair raised a brow. "I mean, you gotta know there's more than just heterosexual people out there. Maybe some even in this room right now." "Blair." Ms Hall began. "Because, if you disagree, then that's ridiculous. Oh, and if you think aids is some kind of death sentence, then you seriously need to educate yourself." Sex ed lady looked appalled, her Christian beliefs quite clearly threatened. "That's it. Get out." Ms Hall stood up. Blair huffed, pushing her seat back, lifted her bag and left the room, Ms Hall following behind. "OK. So, any other questions? Reasonable questions only, please." Jujubee was looking over her shoulder at me now, sharing the same expression I did. Thank God for lunch next period. Jujubee and I were hiding at the back of the school, in an alley between the building itself and the old workshops. The perfect hiding place for a smoke and to freak the fuck out about specific events. "Juju, she knows. She knows I'm a lesbian. She knows I like her." I paced. "I'm moving. That's it." I stopped. "But why would she speak up for me of all people? It doesn't make sense." My eyes widened. "Unless she's also a lesbian. I mean, that makes sense, right?" Jujubee had been sitting on the wall, patiently listening to my manic ramblings. The first few minutes, she was just as astounded. But the more I theorised, rambling on and on, she was over it. "I highly doubt that considering the boyfriend." "Then she must know. Why else would she say it? I highly doubt there are other gays in that class. Speaking of which, I had no idea lesbians could have sex like; how does that work. I'm gonna look into that somehow. But getting back to the point, if she did know, why would she speak out for me of all people?" My ramblings were non-stop. I tried my best to avoid Blair for the rest of the day, not that I could, considering we were both in the same last period. Blair's outburst was the talk of the school. I wasn't sure if it was a positive response or not. The only thing I did know was Trevor was pissed. "Brie, look." Jujubee tapped me. I turned from my locker and looked where everyone else seemed to be

looking. Just down the corridor, Trevor was standing over Blair, their conversation clearly heated. People were shamelessly moving closer, Jujubee following in their path. "Juju, don't," I whispered. But she didn't listen. I went after her as if it would stop her. "Trevor, this isn't that big of a deal," Blair said. "Not a big deal? Blair, do you know what the guys are saying? They think you're gonna dump me for a girl. Do you know how humiliating that is?" Trevor held a hand to his chest "And what if I did?" Blair challenged. The few people standing around cooed with excitement. "Oh, please. Don't get all cocky now that you have an audience." Trevor pointed. But Blair took a step closer to him. "What, 'cause you know you're the one who looks like an idiot? Maybe if you weren't so insecure, you'd know I would never do that to you." "Don't call me an idiot." Trevor lowered his tone, choosing purposely to ignore her reassurance. "Fine. But don't criticise me for a valid question I asked in a class you weren't even a part of. It's none of your business, no one's business for that matter." Blair bit back. "I can do what I want, Blair." "OK. Whatever." Blair brushed past him. Trevor quickly spun around, grabbing her arm. "No, we're not done having this conversation." My stomach twisted. "Let go of my arm, Trevor." Blair tugged, her voice cracking. Trevor did as was told now that the air was thick with tension, "We are not done talking," he stressed. Blair took a step back, "Yeah, we are, actually," and she turned to walk away. "If you walk away right now, we're finished." Trevor threatened. It was as if time was at a standstill, waiting for her reaction. But at the same time, it felt as though time was counting down. Like we were in a competition show. The contestant has to decide before time runs out, while the audience yells, 'DO IT! DO IT! DO IT!' No one was shouting, but you could feel everyone's excitement. Blair's lip curled upwards. "OK. Fine by me." And, finally, she walked off. The people were cooing with excitement again. "Shut up!" Trevor shouted. I grabbed Jujubee by the shoulder and ushered her back. Trevor kicked his locker, the thud echoing through the halls. That was the last straw. Knowing Trevor, he'd take his anger out on us. It was time to flee the scene. It was all Jujubee wanted to talk about for the rest of the day. Now I knew how she felt during my smoke break. But I couldn't blame her. The scene played in my head over and over again, leading to so many questions. Was there more to this breakup? Did he grab Blair like that all the time? What would happen now? Would she find a new guy? A girl, maybe? I came to the conclusion that Blair and Trevor's breakup was neither good nor bad. Bad because, as I said before, now he had more pent up anger from the humiliation of being so publicly dumped. Therefore, Jujubee and I would most likely be subject to more harassment. Good, because maybe Blair did like girls. Maybe there was still some little chance for us to be together. But if we were going to be together, there was one issue; I still had no fucking idea how lesbian sex worked. Cut to later that night, I'm in my room, sitting in front of my computer. I needed to distract myself from my thoughts of the breakup. While the scratchy dial-up tones emitted the machine, I psyched myself up. Even though I knew sex was normal to learn about at that age, it was still daunting. With shaky hands, I searched 'lesbian sex'. And fuck was it a mistake. What I wanted was educational articles, guides, etc. And what I got was porn. I watched all but a few minutes, all the painfully bad acting scenes that took place before the main event. Upon hearing the first moan, I clicked out as fast as I could. Looking behind me, Piggie was just playing with a stuffed animal on my bed. "You saw that, right?" He looked at me with perked ears. I still felt judged, so I opened my bedroom door and let him out. I needed to be exact. 'How do lesbians have sex?' And Brianna Caldwell was never the

same. My mind was opened that night. This was no mistake. This was a surprise. I couldn't look away from the computer screen, no matter how slow the Internet connection was. All of this information was all too much but not enough at the same time. And it made me feel less nauseated than I felt after watching that stupid video in class. And I built up the courage to go back to that porn site. And I watched every damn second. Then I watched another one. And another. And just one more 'cause why the fuck not? My bedroom door opened. "Brianna, I'm ordering - -" "Get out," I shouted, closing the site down like my life depended on it. But she stood there for a few seconds, eyes wide and hand still on the door frame. "Honey, are you - -" "Mom, oh my god. Can you just - -" I couldn't even form a proper sentence. She gave an apologetic look and closed the door. But she remained on the other side. "I just wanted you to know that I'm ordering pizza for Grandpa and me. Do you want some?" My forehead was in my hand now. "Yes." "What kind?" "Just…" I wanted to shout, "Pepperoni." And with that, she left. But that wasn't the end of it. When the food arrived, I waited a few minutes before going downstairs to grab a few slices. Grandpa was in the living room watching an old rerun of The A-Team. But she was there, in the kitchen, as if she was waiting for me. "Honey, look. I know you're getting to that age where you're curious about certain things and - -" "Mom, no. Please, don't do this." I whined. "I know. I know. I just wanted to let you know that this is natural, and…" she continued to deliver the same talk we all got in class. My eyes were wide, face red with humiliation. -_-_-_- 2020 I picked up a slice of pepperoni pizza, instantly reminded of the traumatic event. OK, maybe that was too strong of a word to use. But of course, you are going to dread the thought of that time your parent talked to you about sex. I walked into the living room, pizza slice in hand, trying not to dwell on the memory. "So, Brianna. Any update on the love life?" Tamisha asked. I loved that bitch; being one of Mom's closest friends, she was present for most of my life. But she always had a tendency to ask questions I wasn't up for answering. I took a bite from my pizza and answered with a full mouth, "dry." "Girl, you're almost 40." She continued. I was ready to challenge her because I was actually just 33 when Mom took her turn to speak. "Yeah, get yourself a man and make me a Grandma already." She wasn't serious. She knew I hated these types of talks, but that didn't stop her from encouraging the others. The funny thing about the time she caught me watching porn, she never clocked it was girl on girl. Of all the years I've been on this planet, I hadn't given her a clue that I was a lesbian. Would I ever tell her? I didn't see the point. From previous failed relationships and being too busy with my job, I wouldn't end up with someone anyway. But of course, I'd make an exception for a certain someone. Monét poured the first round of shots. I already knew I'd hate myself the next day. I wasn't drunk already. Just sort of buzzed. But that changed within an hour. I was hammered. Mom, Monét and all her friends were singing all the old songs in the living room. I was out in the kitchen, trying to drink 8 glasses of water. I only managed 3. Piggie ran in and put his paws up on my knee. "There he is. My baby. My fucking son." I slid down to the ground and let him sit in my lap. "How is your night going?" Just great, Brianna! Anyway, how about that Blair girl, huh? Piggie's non-existent voice said. "Oh yeah," my eyes narrowed. I unlocked my phone and opened up Facebook. And I bravely searched up her name. I say bravely because it does take some balls to go and stalk your crushes social media accounts. All it took to fuck everything up was the slip of a finger, and before you know it, you've liked a post or sent a friend request. "Let's do some digging, Piggie." I cuddled him. Immediately, she was the top result, with Jujubee

being the only mutual friend. "Yeah, girl. Infiltration." I commented as I clicked into her profile. And then her profile picture. "Holy shit." She hadn't aged. She still looked as young and radiant as she did back in high school. "What do you think, Piggie?" I showed him the screen. He glanced at it before tucking his head under his arms. The enthusiasm. I rolled my eyes. I looked at her info. 'Single'. Promising. Scrolling down to her timeline, I noticed she didn't post a lot. Fair enough. Facebook was becoming a dead site in recent years. There were just your average Facebook posts, sharing giveaway posts, a post from an old lady saying, 'Blair, this is Granny. Could you go to Walmart and get me some applesauce? Love granny xx', a shared post from a guy called George Miller. And my finger stopped scrolling upon seeing Blair holding a baby. "Oh God, we've encountered our first obstacle, Piggie," I whined. I clicked into the comments. That George Miller guy commented, 'congrats, Blair!' She replied, 'thank you, but she's my cousin's lol'. "Thank you, Jesus." I put my phone down for a moment to put my hand up to the good lord. I scrolled some more, seeing many inspirational quotes, a link to Adore You by Harry Styles. And a picture of her. With that George Miller guy. With his arms around her. Pressing a kiss to her temple. I could feel my heart sink the more I studied it. Yeah, I knew Blair and I were never meant to be anyway. But it was still upsetting. Relax. They could be friends. Yeah, that's right. Friends hold each other and act all affectionate, right?? I cuddle with Jujubee sometimes. That doesn't mean anything. Right? I needed evidence, just anything, to make it not true. I scrolled some more. There was a video, she was sitting on her sofa, with a girl playing the guitar sitting on the other end. "I've been running races on empty, Pour it up 'cause my cup so empty. Gotta make time for the real me. I've been running, I've been running on empty." And my nerves were settled again. I had only heard Blair sing a few times. She and her friends would pretend they were famous singers in early elementary years, and she'd always be the best. Then another time was in high school, at the winter talent show. I specifically remember it being A moment like this by Kelly Clarkson. It was unreal. 'Jujubee 💋💅🏽 is typing…' I clicked into Snapchat before she even had a chance to type the whole message. "Do you remember Jujubee?" I asked Piggie. Again, he was silent. 'I hope you're having fun, babe ❤ lv u'. "Thanks," was all I could manage to type. A shadow cast over me. I looked up to see Monét join me on the ground. "Hey, girl." She greeted me. "Hi, Aunt Monét." I smiled. Piggie hopped off my lap and onto hers. "Aunt Monét? Honey, you haven't called me that since middle school." She smiled. I returned the smile, only mine probably looking goofy. "I'm just wasted." "I noticed. No more shots for you anyway." She noted, taking a drink from her own bottle. "Anyway, how's the project?" "We got fucking Ed Sheeran involved." I then cursed myself internally for bringing it up. "I heard. Your Mom was telling me. Ugh, girl, why him? Why not someone like…" she paused to think, "like Beyonce. Or Lady Gaga." "OK, man-hater." I quipped, reaching over to pet Piggie. "Not true. Not all men are bad." Monét pointed out. "Speaking of which, when are you getting yourself one?" I could have given her the usual 'I don't have time for men's talk. But the alcohol said no. "Monét, I like girls." And I felt no shame in saying it. A moment of silence fell between us before she asked, "for real?" "Yeah." I nodded. "Does anyone else know?" "Yeah. Juju. And Piggie probably." I replied, leaving one more name out for the sole purpose I didn't want to get into that. "And Mom?" "Nope." She nodded. "I guess this is one of these aunty-niece confidentiality things?" "Uh-huh." I smiled. Bless Aunt Monét. "Well, no matter who you live, we still love you." She laughed for a moment before taking another drink. I knew

she was right. Maybe coming out to Mom wasn't such a bad idea. "You know what, Brianna?" She paused, "Grandpa would be so proud of you, right?" My smile slowly began to drop. Fuck, the touchy subject. "Oh, I...thanks." I thought the change in my mood was hard to miss, but Monét clearly had. "You and I ain't ever talked about him since...you know." "OK," I said quietly, feeling like my chest was a fist, beginning to clench tighter and tighter. "And sometimes, it's just good to look back on - -" "I gotta go." I quickly stood up, feeling the dark fog already come over me. I rushed from the room, my aunty calling my name and apologising. I avoided going into the living room, rushing up the stairs and racing for the bathroom. As soon as the door was locked, I let myself crumble, my face hidden beneath shaking hands, a cry clogged in my throat just begging to belt out. Mom would definitely hear it. I wasn't going to ruin her day. Absolutely not.

[stricken-with-clairvoyancy]

Prinxiety fic recs

Hey everyone, I know isolation is difficult, and a good majority of the fandom use fics as an escape mechanism, so hopefully some people can get a kick out of some of these. As my blog title suggests, I mostly just consume prinxiety content, so this list is for any prinxiety stans out there. Feel free to add on with your own fics or recs, regardless of ship! All fics are completed unless stated otherwise, to avoid giving anyone WIPlash. :)

First up, literally anything by the Queen of Prinxiety (and stunning writing in general) @coconut-cluster. Hers was one of the first blogs who’s writing I got really invested in, and her writing is like the equivalent of snuggling into a warm blanket in the sunshine. It’s good stuff y’all. Writing masterlist If you’re overwhelmed by how many incredible stories she’s written though, I gotchu fam, here are some of my favourites to get you started: Sciamachy, My dreams made music in the night, Snowball fight

Powerless by @impatentpending . One of the best stories I’ve ever had the pleasure of reading, better than most published literature I daresay. Seriously it’s just,,, so good!!! If you haven’t read it yet I highly recommend you do. You’ve got morally grey villains, you’ve got wit, you’ve got a hoverbike named Brendon Urie. It’s an all round good time, except when, you know, it’s angsty.

The To Love And Be Loved series by @virgilsjourney It’s so soft!!! So light and sweet and comforting!!! You’ve got hurt/comfort (heavy on the comfort) with a large helping of mutual pining, and it’s the perfect fic if you need a pick-me-up after a long day.

Butterflies by @creativenostalgiastuff . I live for techie Virgil and this fic does not disappoint. Incredibly cute, Roman gets the validation he deserves, 10/10.

My true love gave to me by @lovelylogans Honestly my favourite oneshot of all time, I giggle the whole way through when reading this. The sheer magnitude of their mutual pining,,, incredible. Genuinely this fic is so wonderful and funny and lighthearted and sweet and hhhhhhhhhh. Looking at her masterlist I’ve also come to realise that she’s written a lot of my favourites, so I’ll just link that here! :)

Wet blanket , Life of the party and Social grace by @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors. A tad angsty, but so worth the read, and they more than make up for any potential hurt with the gratuitous fluff. Hella soft, superb writing. On another note, if you haven’t already, you should absolutely read their jaw-droppingly amazing series Love and other fairytales. Romantic lamp and a heck tonne of cool worldbuilding, gripping plot and fae galore, prepare to become thoroughly invested.

A dragon’s tail by @theeternalspace . This one had me on the edge of my seat you guys, it’s so gripping you’ll wanna stay up all night reading it. You’ve got prince!Virgil, you’ve got knight!Roman, you’ve got Dragon!Logan. Need I say more?

The most adorable Parents!Prinxiety headcanons you ever did read, by the incredible @thelowlysatsuma , with a tooth-rottingly sweet fic to go with it by @watchoutforthefanfics . You WILL get cavities and you WILL sob at the soft domesticity of it all.

@shakesqueer-writes is lowkey a Prinxiety GOD so I’m just gonna link you to their whole entire masterlist of masterpieces.

The phenomenal It’s only logical by @tinysidestrashcaptain . This one is incomplete, but it’s honestly so perfectly written that it’s going on here anyway. I can only dream of achieving Virgil’s level of sass in this fic, an absolute icon. It’s a flower shop au AND a coffee shop au babyyy.

I can only assume from the remarkable quality of the writing that Keep him safe by @whatwashernameagain gets recommended a lot, as it RIGHTLY DESERVES. This fic is also incomplete, but so worth waiting for, each new chapter is a sucker punch of emotions and the character development is second to none. I’d definitely heed the trigger warnings on this one though, it does handle (very well and realistically) some darker themes. There’s also a raccoon named Cat and I love her.

A get-together and getting together by @hickory-dickory-doc-k Fake! dating! Fake! Dating! Fake! Dating! Fak- Ok but for real though guys this one is so gosh darn cute I dropped everything on Christmas day to rush upstairs and read it when the last chapter came out and I was grinning so much lemme tell you. I’ve read a lot of fake dating aus in my time and this one honestly takes the cake.

(I’d never) want once from the cherry tree written by @ace-corvid with gorgeous art to go with it by @blank-ace . YouTuber au!!! Virgil gets to be the chaotic conspiracy guy we know he secretly longs to be, and Roman gets the adoring fanbase he deserves. The humour is also on point. I mean, Deceit’s name in Virgil’s contacts is Snake fursona man, and honestly if that doesn’t sell it, I don’t know what will.

Of trying and towers by @parsnipit . An oldie but a classic, this story is phenomenal. It’s got action! It’s got magical curses! It’s got so many dragons! It’s got highkey terrified but also kinda badass Virgil! It’s so good you guys, the plot and the family bonding and hhhhhhh dragons are so cool.

Destined by @rosesisupposes . Oooooh this one has such a fun premise. Virgil’s a sage (kind of like a seer) and is just kinda vibing with the humans until sh*t goes down, ft sass, flirting, pun-based bakeries, and a coffee machine named Gilda. It’s great. I love it.

Long live by @meginoi . It’s!!! Essentially a really cool princess diaries au!!! How rad is that? Virgil is pretty much permanently stressed, but Pat and Lo are supportive bros and he ;) has ;) Roman ;) there ;) to ;) help.

Falling (falling) by @basically-i-write-shit . Don’t let their url fool you this fic is honestly so gripping, I stayed up way into morning bingeing it. Be warned though, it does handle some pretty dark topics, so heed the trigger warnings. ft. single dad Virgil and babysitter Roman!

Inks and tallies by @skittlesun . Tattoo 👏 artist 👏 Roman 👏 Frick 👏 Yeah 👏 Also by the same author, the amazing fic The betting pool is an absolute delight. Flirting galore. Go read it pls.

Late night, long night by @crowleyspraisekink . Virgil’s in a tank top and Roman is Gay Panic tm. Adorable, superb, 10/10.

A curse is a dream your heart makes by @romansleftshoulderpad This oneshot is a long boi but my god you will enjoy every single second of it. Roman gets cursed by the Dragon witch to act out classic Disney movies with Virgil, and it’s honestly so entrancing. Phenomenal writing.

Queen of fluff @not-so-innocent-bi-sander has so much adorable fics that I’m gonna link their whole masterlist because you deserve to treat yourself to their writing, and I’m also gonna add some quick links to my faves here because I love them: The reunion, Romance in the air…port, Guitar lessons. The first fic of theirs I read is the series The view from here, and it was so heartwarmingly sweet that it helped distract me from some pretty bad cramps, so I highly recommend you go check that out if you need a cute pick me up. It’s incomplete, but it’s mostly fluff and ongoing, so you won’t be left on any cliffhangers.

Thespian by @random-snippets is a heart-wrenchingly sweet hurt/comfort fic that I wholeheartedly recommend. Roman puts on a play in the imagination but neglects to tell Virgil that his character straight up dies at the end, and Virgil is understandably distraught. It’s ok though, Virgil gets love and hugs! Also just check out their masterlist because their writing is absolutely sensational, especially their pining!Virgil LAMP fics.

Through different eyes by @stars-and-rose . Roman’s a warlock who’s been ‘kidnapping’ Patton in an endearing attempt to get the handsome knight’s ;) attention. Super cute and a fun read, honestly it’s adorable.

@today-only-happens-once is another phenomenal writer who’s masterlist I’m also gonna link because they’re all! So! Good!!! Here’s some of my faves: Exposure therapy ft Ace!Roman, Acoustic, Always

A hero’s rescue by @stillebesat . Villain!Roman and Hero!Virgil ft a healthy dose of hurt/comfort and a a really cool premise. I go back and re-read this one a lot!

Welcome to the neighbourhood by @lefaystrent is incomplete, but it’s so goddamn hysterical that it’s going on here anyway. Their comedic genius is astounding. Some more of my favourites of theirs include: Roamin’ nights, Flutter and fall, Rewrite

Blink and you’ll miss it and waterspout by @greenninjagal-blog are both lovely reads which I highly recommend. Seriously guys their writing is amazing, go check them out.

Sweet dreams and Petals red as blood by @candied-peach are both gorgeously written and I absolutely adore them, 10/10.

[canvas-the-florist]

It Was Perfect

Pairing(s): Abusive patceit, platonic or romantic logince, platonic or romantic roloceit

Warnings: Abusive relationship, hitting, manipulation, unsympathetic Patton, Remus mention, sympathetic dark sides, gaslighting, food mention 

Word Count: 3k

As much as Dimitri didn’t want to admit, his life was kind of falling apart at the seams. His mom decided that he had to get a date for his cousin’s wedding. It’s not like any of his extended family had cared about how he was doing before! But luckily, after accidentally flirting with a married man, he met Patton. He had round gold glasses, curly brown hair, and I smile that could just make Dimitri fall to his knees. It was perfect to start dating someone as perfect as him.

First of all, Patton could cook without burning down the house like Remus had when Dimitri was roommates with. Second, Patton was able to make the dumbest puns that could make anyone smile! Only two days until the wedding and Dimitri already got a boyfriend of one month. 

“Hey, kiddo, how do I look?” Patton walked out into his living room wearing a blue suit with an untied bow tie resting on his shoulders. He looked down and gained a mischievous grin. “Ah man, looks like I still have to suit up.”

Dimitri groaned, getting up off the couch, “That was an AMAZING pun, I applaud you.” He walked over and helped Patton with his bow tie.   

After it was finally done, definitely without the help of five youtube tutorials, Patton gave his boyfriend a kiss on the check. “All tied up it seems.” Dimitri gave another sound of annoyance. “Also, Dee, maybe tone up your lying a bit? It was a little confusing trying to guess what you wanted for dinner last night.”

“Oh, I’m not a pathological liar, but I will not- I mean- will try to not lie…” He thought he already told Patton about his problem, but maybe not. Dimitri knew people got annoyed by it and had taken speech therapy lessons before. “But hey, we’re going to be able to steal the show with our fabulous looks.”

They shared a kiss and fell to the couch. The two of them ended up with Dimitri starfished on the carpet as Patton cuddled into him. It was perfect, right? There wasn’t much time until the wedding and he would be able to please his grandma and mother. The blond wasn’t used to being praised by anyone or even cuddled. He had yet to admit to his boyfriend that he hadn’t hugged anyone in over five years since he moved out of his mom’s house. That fact alone would probably urge Patton to hug Dimitri over and over, which he honestly wasn’t sure he’d be comfortable with. It was nice to have someone dote on him, but would Patton bring that overboard?

-

It was the wedding day!

Dimitri and Patton walked inside the church, not exactly knowing what to do. Neither of them had been to a wedding in a long time. But, at least they were together and there wouldn’t be any angry or disappointed mothers because a certain heterochromia eyed young adult had failed his one and only request. Though, there were people from the groom’s family glaring at people being gay publicly. 

“So you actually managed to get a date? I was worried you were going to show up with your slimy snake.” Dimitri’s mom laughed, causing Patton to have a little chuckle. “And look, he has a fine taste in jokes too!”

“First of all, snakes aren’t slimy and secondly, you wouldn’t say that if you knew how many puns he makes a day.”

Patton gave a little smile, making Dimitri drop his fake glare. “I just gave a little slither at a joke!” That made Dimitri’s mom laugh into her hands as the blond gave an unimpressed look. “Enough of that, the wedding’s starting!”

All things considered, it was a fine wedding. The bride and groom became wife and husbands. Even though, it was just outdated and expensive pageantry. Okay, so Dimitri was a bit biased because of the amount of boredom he was experiencing. But, that statement held true if you just googled the average amount a wedding costs, without the price of dresses. He glanced at Patton, who seemed happy to be there, causing him to gain a weak smile. At least he was having a good time.

“Hey Dee, would you ever want to do anything like this?”

Would he? It would be incredibly expensive and he was still fighting to pay back his student loans. But, Dimitri looked at Patton and his heart melted. So he did what he did best to keep the love of his boyfriend. If this what it took to make him happy, so be it. Who cares if he was told to stop doing it. It was the one thing he knew how to do. Lie. 

“Yeah, of course.”

-

Everything was perfect. Dimitri and Patton had been dating for almost a year and both moved into Patton’s apartment. Though, Dimitri had to sell his snake Justice because there wasn’t enough room and his boyfriend wasn’t fond of reptiles. But, they made everything work and they were both very happy. Patton cooked and Dimitri cleaned, while every Thursday they would go on a date or just order pizza.

Dimitri walked into the kitchen to see pancakes being put on a plate. It smelled delicious and he waltzed over to grab one. “It smells horrible, dear.”

“Remember what I said about lying?”

“Right… It smells lovely, sorry.” If only he could express his words better, maybe he could get Patton to like him more. Unfortunately, he didn’t have enough money to start up speech therapy again, but he didn’t want to burden Patton anymore than he already did. “What’s the plan for today?”

Patton looked up for a minute like he hadn’t thought of it beforehand. “Maybe we could just stay in and watch movies all day! I was planning a Harry Potter marathon?” Dimitri made a sound of agreement while moving to kiss his boyfriend on the cheek. “Hey, don’t get cheeky here.”

-

After getting through the third movie Patton paused the TV, signaling that they had to talk. Dimitri set the popcorn bowl and the ground and sat up a bit, getting ready for maybe something serious. He honestly didn’t know what they were going to discuss, and it was probably about his Hogwarts house being Hufflepuff but he couldn’t help but get a little nervous.

“Dee, I wanted to tell you that you need to pull your wait more. I’ve been supporting you throughout this whole relationship but you’re still continuing to lie to me every day and I’m afraid to admit I’ve been getting a little frustrated with it.”

“Pat, I’m not sorry- I mean I’m sorry- I’m a pathological liar and I can control it… I mean, can’t control it! Ugh, see what I mean?!” Dimitri ran his hand through his hair, trying to say a single sentence without lying. “I thought… I told you this before.”

“But you can control it better I know it. You just want to be babied.”

“I do! I mean, don’t! I’ve been trying Patton!” Dimitri didn’t want Patton to be upset with him and he was trying his best to keep his voice low but he just kept being riled up by being blamed for a problem he had no control over. “I… thought you’d understand I’m trying.”

“I understand but you’re making this more difficult than it needs to be, Dee.”

Dimitri scoffed without meaning to, “Yeah, sure sounds like you are…”

It only took a few seconds to realize he had been slapped and had fallen into the popcorn bowl on the floor. He looked at Patton who appeared frightened. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry! I’ll get an ice pack!” Dimitri stood up and brushed the food off of his elbow. His face stung but it was just an accident.

-

It was perfect. Even though their dates were becoming less frequent, Patton made up for it with cuddles and kisses. They hadn’t watched Harry Potter since the incident, and maybe that was for the best. 

Dimitri decided he wasn’t going to lie around Patton as much as he could. This made him turn to just writing down what he wanted to tell him. Patton fully supported him to the fact that he found himself talking to people less and less. Whenever he’d get a text of Remus doing stupid actions, it was more likely that he’d leave him on read. When he did respond to people, Patton would ask Dimitri to go on a date with him. 

They had been dating for fifteen months at that point. And Dimitri had decided to take a walk on a stormy day. Patton was at work and probably wouldn’t mind anyway. He left a note on the kitchen counter just in case his boyfriend got worried. It smelled nice out and he eventually found himself in a park. 

“Excuse me, sir, may I take the spot next to you?”

He looked up to see a man with neat black hair and rectangle glasses. Dimitri just nodded, not wanting to lie to someone like Patton suggested. The man took his place and took out a laptop and started typing right away. Dimitri decided he didn’t want to bother anyone and stood up.

“Why are leaving so soon? Have I bothered your peace, I can relocate elsewhere-”

“N-no,” Dimitri forced out. He tried to tell the truth as well as possible. He couldn’t disappoint Patton and he didn’t expect someone to talk to him today. His notebook was at home and he tried his best to stay calm. “I… don’t want to bother you.” 

“You misunderstand. You have not been prohibiting my ability to work.” The man paused. “I am referred to as Logan, and I only moved over here after my friend encouraged me to get your phone number as I find you attractive.”

Dimitri didn’t know how to respond. Yeah, he was dating Patton, but there was no harm in making a friend, right? Patton loved friendship to his knowledge, so he should be proud of him for being able to communicate to someone, right? “I don’t… I mean, I have a boyfriend but I wouldn’t… WOULD like to be your friend.”

He couldn’t make it through one conversation, huh? Logan pushed up his glasses. “That would be most acceptable. Would you like to add your number into my contacts for me?” He handed over his phone and Dimitri shakily added his number under ‘Dimitri’.

After added Logan into his contacts, Dimitri made some sort of excuse and ran back home. He made a friend! It’s been a long time since he could claim that! Patton would be so proud of him. He hardly even lied! Dee hummed a small bit as he opened the door to the apartment and found his boyfriend waiting for him with a frown on his face. Dimitri stopped all his movement after he closed the door softly.

“Where’d you go?” Patton said this calmly, but just because his voice wasn’t raised, it was clear he was very angry. “You couldn’t tell me before you decided to leave?”

“I… I left a note, and you were at work.”

“Why are you still lying to me, Dimitri?” Patton asked, stepping closer to him. “I told you to stop lying to me. I was worried sick that you could be hurt and now you’re lying to me!”

Dee sucked in a breath. He made Patton worry. “I’m sorry… I… I thought you found the note!”

-

“Salutations, this is Logan Berry, I cannot answer your call right now. If you wish, you may leave a voice message so I may call you back.”

Dimitri blinked back his tears. “This is Dimitri Young from the park, turns out I’m not… I mean.. Am single... But, that’s not what matters. I definitely do not need a place to stay tonight because my… just call me back when you can.”

This was just perfect. He ran to the park he met Logan after getting attacked by Patton. He felt light-headed and just wanted to sleep. Dimitri held his hand up to his black eye and winced. He wasn’t sure how hurt he was, but it definitely hurt like hell. Why would Patton even be proud that Dimitri reached out? He was just a person with vitiligo and heterochromia who liked snakes while having the tendency to lie. 

He didn’t know how long he sat on the bench, just waiting for time to pass and feel safe. But the time he looked up from his knees, the sun was gone. Dimitri got up and silently left the park. He didn’t have a destination and only knew he couldn’t go back home. The blond tried not to limp as he found himself at the 24/7 McDonalds. At least he managed to have his wallet on him. He quietly ordered a burger and sat down. He couldn’t find the willpower to even unwrap it. 

“Hello, can I sit here?”

Dimitri blinked, before scowling and hugging his arms. “Don’t do what you want to do…” He was too tired to correct his speaking and sighed.

The man looked in confusion. “I… think that was a yes.” He sat down and gave a dashing smile. “My name is Roman, the nerd who approached you earlier today, Logan, is my friend.”

“Congrats. Boyfriends are wonderful.”

Roman furrowed his eyebrows. “Are you okay?” Dimitri looked up to hiss at him only for the ginger to gasp and lean forward. Dimitri blinked. Was this about his eyes? His vitiligo? “Is your eye okay? Let me get you ice!”

Oh… That was new. Patton would never say anything about injuries, even though he caused them half the time. But Roman made it seem like it wasn’t a normal thing to casually have a black eye. It probably wasn’t for most people. Of course, Dimitri had another thing that made him stick out more than others. The redhead came back with a complimentary water and held it over his green eye. Without noticing, a tear trailed down his face, making Roman immediately retract his hand. 

“Sorry, did I hurt you?”

Dimitri quietly shook his head. “I’ve… always had someone actually concerned for me…” He groaned, he hasn’t even known this person for five minutes and has already lied more than he did when Patton encouraged him to basically go mute. “Not sorry, I don’t have controllable lying.”

Roman looked confused for a second before nodding. “Okay… So, I came up to you because I recognized you when I told Logan to talk to you. Also, it’s like 10 PM so I was wondering if you were just going to hang out in an empty McDonalds all night.”

“Who knows… I definitely have a home to go to now.”

“You can stay the night at Logan and I’s apartment? It’s nothing big but, I would rather you didn’t get mugged and shot in an alleyway.” Roman offered a small smile. He blinked before he realized how that sounded. “You don’t have to but I didn’t want you to get hurt or something if I could do something about it.”

The two stared at each other, Roman still holding a polite look while Dimitri maintained his scowl. It made him realize how much he missed his old friends before Patton convinced him that he was the only one worthy enough to be in his life. Before he knew what was happening he walked to Logan and Roman’s place with tears streaking down his face. No one said anything about it, and Roman did nothing but grab Dimitri’s hand and lightly pulled him in the direction they needed to go. While he was glad he didn’t need to say anything about his constant stream of tears, he couldn’t imagine the consequences Patton would give him for holding hands with a stranger and crying in public. ‘Why are you crying?! Do you know how upset that makes me?’

His grip on Roman’s hand was growing weaker as his shaking and fear grew. What would Patton think of this? How was he going to live without any of his belongings? He’d need a new job, right? That’s what people in movies did at least…

-

“So you found him at a McDonalds? His energy looks exceedingly depleted. Perhaps we should obtain some food for him?” 

“I mean yeah but, he called you earlier and you didn’t respond according to him.”

Logan smacked his head. “My cellular device has been on airplane mode in order to avoid it from running out of its battery.”

Dimitri watched the two talk on the couch, awkwardly curled up in a ball. He wasn’t crying anymore but it made him too tired to even process thoughts. Nothing seemed real at the moment. Logan peered at him before saying something to Roman. He was too tired to tune into the conversation, but he did know they were talking about him. He could feel himself starting to pass out before his phone started ringing. Anything his new “friends” were saying had been put on pause.

“...Hi, Patton.”

“Where are you? I’ve been extremely nervous since you’ve left! I’m so sorry for fighting you, can you come back now? After your fit I felt so bad that you were upset!”

He grimaced. A ‘fit’, huh? “I… do want to come home with you.”

“Great, I can drive over. I’m so glad you’re finally coming to your senses and realize how silly you were being! Now we can go back to practicing with your little lying issue-”

“No, I meant. I DON’T want to come home with you…” Dimitri held his breath in nervousness. He glanced at Roman and Logan, who were eyeing him nervously. They didn’t know what was being said but according to context clues, it wasn’t anything good. “I’m safe right now and… I want to stay safe. That is something you can’t give me.”

“Dee, don’t you have any idea how this makes me feel? We are happy together. It was perfect when you just did what you were told. You ruined everything but I’ll forgive you if you just agree to go home! Don’t you want to be happy?” Patton was trying to do this through phone. Dimitri sighed, as much as he ‘wants to be happy’, he didn’t want to get slapped or punched again. “You can make the smart decision, kiddo. All you have to do is come home. You don’t have to be punished if you just LISTEN TO ME.”

“I don’t want to be happy… but it will have nothing to do with you.”

Patton growled. “You’re lying again. No one will love you with that problem of yours! No one but me. You’re lucky I’ve been there for you! But if you’re being disobedient, I guess I’m going to have to take away your photo album.”

“Do it then. See you later.” Dimitri hissed, hanging up. He dropped his phone and stood up. It didn’t really matter how light-headed he was, he had to move around to keep himself from crying. Roman stepped forward to comfort him but saw the terror held in Dimitri’s eyes. “I did it…. I didn’t do it, I didn’t stand up to Patton. But, he could find me and I’ll be scared again… I don’t want to be alone again. I can do that again, I will be able to do that again!”

Logan and Roman looked at each other before Logan said something. “You don’t have to go back, we have optimal room to hold three people comfortably.”

“Oh,” Dimitri felt his face dry as he let out a shutter. It’s been a long time since he had someone to reassure him. Remus wasn’t one for physical touch and he’d be lucky if Patton cared about anything he was feeling. But no one was getting mad at him for feeling upset. He breathed in and let out a small laugh. “That’d be perfect.” And it wasn’t a lie.

[astrozones]

Sanders Behavioral Health, Chapter 1: Virgil Starts Freaking Out More Than Usual

Trigger warning: mental health stuff. Major mental health stuff. For the whole fic.

Group Therapy AU. Prinxiety and Logicality eventually.

Three hours.

Three goddamn hours of his life dedicated to therapy. Every. Single. Day.

Except weekends. At least he still had his weekends.

When his father had told him of the “amazing” news, Virgil was seriously rethinking going back to his old family.

Coming from an abusive home to a place where others cared about him was jarring, to say the least. Parts of it he adored. Not being punished for coming home a couple minutes late? He couldn’t say he wasn’t grateful. But since his time at his new family’s house, he had been diagnosed with anxiety, depression, and a hint of OCD. And when his parents put him in therapy for the first time, he found it dull, but a good escape from his bad thoughts.

But when his therapist suggested Sanders Behavioral Health, he was apprehensive. Even more so when she told him that three hours of his day would be dedicated to working on his anxiety. His social anxiety, mostly. Virgil had stared at her in disgust, why would he ever want to go there? Why would he want to go somewhere that would give him more anxiety, on purpose, rather than stay at home scrolling through YouTube?

He was even more disgusted when his adoptive father had happily agreed to look into it.

Yes, Virgil wanted to get better. God, he wanted to get better so bad, to be away from the thoughts that plagued his mind. That’s what he told himself, at least.

Maybe he didn’t want to get better. Maybe he wanted to stay in his room all day because that was what he was used to. He was content at this stage, and so what if he was destroying his future and the potential for happiness? He was here now and he was content, wasn’t that good enough?

He would never say that to his therapist. If he did, she would tell his dad, who would in turn tell his mom, and they’d worry about him more. If this was the life he had to live, then so be it.

So here he was, in the lobby room of the building he had dreaded coming to since they made the first call to get him into this institute. He hunched over in his hoodie, idly scrolling through his phone, trying to collect his thoughts. What if he made a mistake? What if it turned out he had been faking it this whole time and they got mad? What if he did something embarrassing? Oh, god, what if they hated him? What if-

The lobby door slammed open. Virgil jumped in his seat, his father gently putting a hand on his shoulder. In stepped a boy that looked just about the same age as himself. Oh, for the love of-

“I HAVE REETUUURNED~,” the boy sung, arms spread as wide as he could with a binder in his hands. “No need to fear, your Prince is here!” Virgil pursed his lips.

“Yeah, ‘prince’, my ass.” he mumbled, looking back down at his phone. The boy spluttered indignantly, to Virgil’s confusion. That wasn’t even a good insult, so why was the boy getting mad at him? Oh god, oh shit, I already made an enemy-

“Roman, please just sign in.” The front desk lady said with a small smile. The boy, or rather, Roman, blushed, with an “oh, right” as he did as he was told.

Roman slumped down in a seat, turning to the only other kid in the room.

“So, Mr. Professionalism, I know it’s only my second proper day here, but what’s with the tie? You wear it every day or somethin’?” Roman’s posture remained slouched and easy-going, the opposite to the other, who was indeed wearing a tie. Tie guy’s posture was pristine and collected, his face not revealing any emotion, except a slight glare.

“I do not. I wear a different tie every day. It is unsanitary to wear the same thing every day. And when I sleep, I change into the proper wear. I would also like to point out that it’s pronounced some thing . With a g. Proper pronunciation is important, lest you confuse someone who is not as knowledgeable with our language. And my name, is Logan. Thank you.” Logan, apparently, finished his monologue with hardly a change in expression. Both Virgil and Roman looked a bit disoriented.

“Allllrighty,” Roman started, ignoring Logan’s hiss of “it’s pronounced al right ”, “Welp, glad to see I’m not the only one who’s early! Don’t you think the weather is great today? So sunny!”

“I do not wish to engage in small talk.” Logan said, returning to his book. Roman blinked at this, his head darting back a bit. He quickly returned to his confident persona and turned to Virgil.

Oh no , was his only thought before he was forced into conversation.

“SOO, Emostein, what’s your opinion on the weather? Since Necktie over there refuses to be nice, that is.” Roman said with a flourish of his hand.

What was he supposed to say? That he never went outside enough to appreciate the weather? That he would rather not say anything? That this whole thing was pushing him to the verge of a panic attack?

So, instead, he murmured, “Emostein?”. Goddamn it, that was dumb-

“Why yes! Like Frankenstein, but judging by your apparel, I had assumed you were emo and listen to My Chemical Romance all day. Am I wrong in this?”

Virgil shoved his head in his hands, blushing from embarrassment. “Ugh, no, you’re not. You don’t need to point it out, though…” He grumbled. God, he hated social situations. Even if it distracted him from the anxiety surrounding this new therapy group.

Whether he had bad luck, or the fates hated him, he couldn’t decide as the door to the rest of the building opened in perfect irony.

“Virgil?” The woman called with a smile. He hugged his few items closer to him as he stood up, making his way through the entrance. He glanced back at the lobby, where yet another kid was entering.

Then, the door was closed.

--

The woman introduced herself as Rebecca, or Becca for short. She led him on a quick tour of the building before the others were scheduled to come in, something he was grateful for. The place was smaller than he expected. She led him through the cafeteria (a cafeteria? what?), the doors of a couple staff, the bathroom, the check-up room, and the individual rooms. The individual rooms, as she explained, were for when you needed to focus on an ‘exposure’ and couldn’t handle distractions from other people.

Virgil quickly decided he liked these rooms.

Becca let him choose a room, and had him write his name on the whiteboard in front of it. As he did, he heard the entrance door open and a loud voice groan out, “UGHH, but I don’t wanna go in yet!”. Uh oh, people alert! He quickly slipped into the room, Becca joining him soon after.

“While you’re in this program,” she started. “you will be doing exposures, which means you’ll be directly facing the anxiety. It’ll be tough, but the goal is, when you get out of the program, you’re more used to these situations, and when you encounter them, you don’t freak out as much.” At that, she smiled, as if she hadn’t just diminished his already depressed mood.

“Does that sound good?” Becca continued, tilting her head to the side. Virgil stared at her as if she just told him the Sun was purple (not that he would mind that… purple was a very nice color.).

“Not really,” came his reply. “sounds terrible.”

Becca’s smile became just a little more stressed.

“I get your point, but I disagree. See, here and now, you’re not okay. Do you agree?” she stated flatly, and at his small nod, continued, “It’s because you’ve been in this slump for too long. It’s ruining your mood, and unless you do something about it, it’ll just get worse. If you want to get better, you have to do something about it.”

Virgil sighed. Yes, he understood, but he had the right to dislike this.

Becca explained a few more things about the program before handing him a small stack of papers and leaving him to mull over in his silent suffering.

He doodled in between the questions he had just answered as he waited for Becca to come back. Just the classic questions, ‘What do you want to work on while here at Sanders?’, ‘How would you describe your average mood?’, ‘What is (or are) your diagnosis?’, etc.. He glanced at the clock. 5 minutes. He tapped his foot. Fiddled with his hoodie strings. Kicked at the wall. 10 minutes. Hm.

Sanders Behavioral Health had a rule against phones being in the building, for privacy reasons… but, taking a glance around, he couldn’t see any cameras. And he had snuck his phone in by slipping it into his boots when no one was looking. Then there was the fact that no one was in the room with him…

Whipping out his phone, he quickly found a position where his phone was hidden enough that the average passerby wouldn’t notice and opened it up. What to do, what to do…

He scrolled through Tumblr, and responded to a few messages on Discord. He was in the middle of typing one out when there was a knock on the door.

Jumping, Virgil quickly turned to the door while desperately trying to hide his phone. He couldn’t fit in past his shoe in time, could he hide it in his hoodie so the visitor wouldn’t see it? Think fast befo-

The door opened, a stranger walking in. The stranger smiled.

“Hello! I’m Nurse Vicki. You’re Virgil, right? I need you for just a moment so we can do checkups, if you’ll come with me!” Vicki grinned, holding the door open wider. Virgil slid the phone into his hoodie pocket. There was a chance of it being noticed, but it would have to do.

When brought into the nurse’s office, she sat him down and started asking questions.

Are you suicidal? Yes.

Are you going to school regularly? No.

Are you eating healthy? Probably not.

And on, and on, and on, until finally, she took him to track his weight and vitals, and escorted him back to his room. Still no Becca.

The second Nurse Vicki left, Virgil quickly took his phone out and situated it where it wasn’t easily visible in his boot. Yes, it did rub against his foot painfully, but that was just the price he’d have to pay. Without his phone, he felt even more anxious. He knew it was stupid, but what if he got a call? What if he got hurt? What if someone else got hurt? Virgil needed the phone, and if that included sacrificing his comfort, he would do it.

Now, what was he supposed to do? 20 minutes had passed. He studied the vandalism done in pencil on the wall, but that quickly got boring.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

He drummed his fingers on the table.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

He thought about what he was going to do tomorrow- wait, no, that gave him more anxiety.

Tick, tock, tick, tock.

Sighing, he leaned back and studied the ceiling. Maybe he could fall asleep here. Or maybe he’d just get in trouble for that.

After what seemed like ages, Becca returned. Gathering up the papers, she led him outside the room.

“We aren’t going to start anything today, but I’ll show you the timers and computers. Here’s the check in sheet for them,” she motioned to the top of the computer cart, a basket with multiple stopwatches in it next to the sheets. “and the top row of computers are assessment computers, while the bottom are normal computers. Today, you’ll be getting an assessment computer.”

Stepping aside, she let him check out a computer. As he was writing down his name, another person came in from a second hallway. The loud boy from before- Roman?- glanced in their direction before doing a double take. Cringing slightly, Virgil prepared for Roman to burst out with a loud “hello!”.

Only Roman did nothing of the sort. Once Becca greeted him, he motioned awkwardly to the timer in his hands before walking down the hallway and turning into a staff’s room.

O ...kay?

He may not have known Roman for long, but that seemed entirely uncharacteristic. Pursing his lips, he finished filling out the sheet as Becca and him walked back. Well, almost. Becca stopped in her office for a split second before returning with a binder and a dazzling smile. Virgil sunk into his jacket with a ‘dazzling’ scowl.

Back inside the room, Becca gave him the binder and led him through all that it entailed, before signing him into the assessment computer. And once more, Becca left him to fill out the assessments alone.

Which was fantastic.

Another round of repetitive questions he’d answered a thousand times before-

In the past 7 days how often have you not able to stop feeling sad? Often.

--felt alone? Always.

--feel everything in your life went wrong? Always.

--feel like you can’t do anything right? Often.

--it was hard for you to have fun? Always.

He supposed a lot of this came from his past family. And, geez, these were not nice memories to go through. But being pushed around and starved for days on end was bound to take a toll on you, and it sure as hell did in the case of Virgil. It was part of the reason he wore hoodies all the time, to hide the- the- oh god he was not ready to think about this right now.

Shaking his head, Virgil returned to the questions, feeling worse than he had. He felt a tear trying to surface and quickly closed his eyes. Not here , he thought. Not now, I can’t. They’ll make fun of me for it.

And yeah, maybe it was illogical to worry about being made fun of for crying in a literal therapy building, but maybe Virgil wasn’t thinking quite right at that point. Maybe he wasn’t thinking quite right often.

Or maybe he was just stupid.

--

The last time Becca returned to his individual room was to bring him out to the cafeteria for something called ‘recreational therapy’ which included doing “fun things” with the other patients.

Great.

After putting away his computer, he was instructed to leave his new binder in the cafeteria and to bring a pen or pencil with him.

He didn’t have either and had to ask someone else for it. Oh, god…

Dodging around the others in the cafeteria, he made his way back to Becca and quietly asked for a pen, and, to his disappointment, didn’t get one. He turned around to face the 3 other patients, forced to consider the options as to who might have a goddamn pen.

The others were all the people he had seen in the waiting room earlier. Only one of them he hadn’t really gotten to know, which was the boy in light blue. He was talking to the loud one, ugh, what was his name again… Roman! Yes, he was talking to Roman. Listening in on their conversation he found that they were talking about… dogs? Well, Light Blue was nearly screaming about dogs while Roman was looking a little bewildered at just how loud this boy was about dogs. Which only left Tie Guy, Logan, to ask. If he didn’t have one, Virgil would have to walk out and ask a staff, so asking the scary one it was.

Glancing towards his binder, Virgil saw that he had 3 pens next to it, black, red, and blue. Bingo!

“Hey uh,” he started once he reached Logan. “Um, can I… uh, sorry, can I borrow a pen? Please?”

Logan’s gaze jerked towards Virgil, then back to his pens. “No,” he stated bluntly. “I only have one black pen. As you can see. ”

“But… I could just… use the red or blue one? I don’t really care that much about colors…” Virgil, to say the least, was hella confused. What was this kid’s deal? First the whole tie thing, now Virgil wasn’t able to use one of his three pens? There was no need to be so rude.

“No, you can’t. Red is for spelling errors and blue is for grammar errors. Everyone knows that. You cannot just use a red or blue pen for normal writing!” Logan nearly growled out. Virgil took a few steps back, was it okay for him to be around this guy?! Was he safe?

He felt a tap on his shoulder and nearly jumped out of his skin. Whipping around, he was faced with Light Blue holding a pen. He let out a sigh of relief.

“Heyo! I’m Patton,” Light Blue said. “I couldn’t help but hear your conversation, so sorry for interrupting, but I have a free pen you could use instead! It’s no big deal to me!” Patton’s smile was nearly blinding as he held the pen out. Grabbing the pen, Virgil felt a little… unnerved. Maybe it was just the anxiety talking, but this guy seemed way too nice to be here. Maybe he was just about to leave the program?

“Uh, thanks.” Was the only thing he said in response before retreating to the corner of the room. He could see Becca hovering around the computer before telling them she would be back in a second.

Well ain’t that just fucking great .

“Ooh, scandalous~!” Roman yelled as Becca went to leave the room. “Leaving a bunch of teens unsupervised? Didn’t take ya for the type.” Virgil looked at him. If he remembered correctly, Roman had said this was his second day. So, why was he so… extroverted? He, along with Patton, didn’t really feel like they belonged in this group. Patton seemed too bright and happy, and Roman seemed too loud and confident.

“You is not pronounced ‘ya’.” Logan huffed. Roman turned to him looking a bit confused.

“It’s… not that different, though?”

“Every little thing matters, Roman. I’ve explained this to you before, so why do you continue to lack the capacity to understand it?” Roman spluttered at this, the insult obviously getting to him.

“I was just telling you my opinion, and you don’t need to… insult me over it! Believe it or not, I don’t like being called stupid!” Roman spat out.

Uh oh.

“I did not call you stupid. It seems as if you came to that conclusion yourself, yet I will not deny it.”

“ You implied it you-”

Before Roman could finish, Becca, in all her glory, opened the door and invited them to follow her. Well, maybe invited wasn’t the correct term, but Virgil was well on his way to a massive anxiety attack and couldn’t give a shit.

Once Becca had led them outside and had them all introduce themselves, she gave them a simple two-sided sheet of paper.

“Today, we’re going to be doing a people scavenger hunt! On the paper, there’s a bunch of questions, and it’s your job to find someone who fits the criteria! Once you do, they should sign your paper. Try not to use the same person for most of the questions! Sounds great, don’t you agree?”

“Yay.” Virgil muttered unenthusiastically, curling into his hoodie when both Roman and Patton turned to him.

“Miss Becca, there are four of us. Statistically speaking, it is unlikely for us to be able to fill out the entirety of this sheet, especially with questions like the 13th, which says ‘Someone who has red hair.’ As you can see, none of us have red hair. I must recommend that you reprint this paper with questions we can properly answer.” Logan attempted to smooth down his hair in the wind as he spoke, his paper resting on a clipboard, because of course Logan had prepared himself with a clipboard while the rest of them had to combat the wind attempting to blow their papers away.

“It’s okay, Logan,” Becca smiled sweetly. “You don’t need to answer all the questions before we go back in.”

“Yes I do, or the assignment is incomplete!”

Smile dropping, Becca motioned for the others to start as she turned to talk to Logan. And with that, Virgil was forced to communicate with the last two.

Already, Patton and Roman seemed to be chatting, which left Virgil to awkwardly stand by while they filled the paper out. Virgil could feel his breathing quickening, why did Logan have to be picky? He could be talking to him, which would be better than just standing here with nothing to do!

Roman turned to him once he had gotten the paper signed, smiling slightly at him before skimming his eyes through the paper. Wait, he took it back, he wasn’t ready to talk yet oh no-

“Do youuu….. Like mint ice cream?” Roman asked, looking up from his paper with a smile. Silently, Virgil nodded. After signing the paper Roman gave to him, Roman stayed, looking expectantly at him. What? Oh! He’s expecting a question quick choose one!!!

Looking at his own paper, Virgil chose the first question his eyes landed on.

“Do you, um. Do you speak another language?” He stuttered out. Roman brightened.

“¡Sí! Hablo español.” Roman was bouncing on his heels, grinning impossibly larger. At Virgil’s dubious stare, he seemed to deflate, a small blush growing on his cheeks. “Sorry, uh, yes, I speak Spanish.”

As Virgil handed him the paper, he had more time to stand awkwardly. Roman had hoisted his leg up and was now balancing precariously on one leg while writing against the other one. His tongue poked out from between his teeth as he tried to not fall over.

Roman had green eyes. While Virgil didn’t usually make eye contact, he couldn’t help but notice while this kid was right in front of him . Virgil had always adored green eyes in people, they may be more rare but they were so pretty and-

Roman glanced up at him, and Virgil quickly flushed. “Do you want me to fill out the green eyes question, too? I’m pretty sure I’m the only one of us who has green eyes, so… y’know… while I’m here, might as well, yea?”

All Roman saw was Virgil’s small nod, which Virgil was grateful for as his mind was screaming at the current moment.

Is this guy psychic what the hell how’d he know EXACTLY what I was thinking??? What???? No, Virge, calm down, he can’t be psychic- BUT WHAT IF HE IS????

Once Virgil got his paper back, he turned once more and was suddenly face-to-face with Patton’s smile.

“Heya kiddo! Have you been on a boat ride?” At Virgil’s shake of his head, he continued. “Hm, okay, have you been to a park in the past few months?

On and on the activity went. Surprisingly, Virgil quickly found himself actually enjoying the activity. Roman and Patton were easy to talk to, if slightly disorienting to the extreme introvert.

Unfortunately, the universe seemed to hate him, because after about 10 questions with the others, Logan stormed back into the building, leaving Becca alone. Becca sighed.

“Sorry guys, but I legally can’t leave him or you without a guardian, so if you could follow me please we will go back inside.”

Back inside, Becca took them to the cafeteria, where Logan already was, meticulously rearranging his binder. When Becca approached him, he hissed out, “I will NOT be doing an assignment where I am forced to fail.”

The three looked at each other, Patton seeming to be the only one who knew what was happening. He gave them a sad smile.

“Logan came here before me, but he told me he has extreme OCD. Basically, he gets anxiety when things don’t go the way his mind tells him they have to.” Patton whispered to them. “I think he has a sort of… fear of failing, so he gets the bad feelings when he can’t finish an assignment. Well, more bad feelings than the average person.”

That made sense, Virgil supposed. While he was told he had a bit of OCD, he wasn’t exactly briefed on all the ins and outs, only diagnosed with it. So he had no definitive answer as to what exactly it was, but from what he had heard, that seemed to fit with the behavior Logan was showing.

A couple minutes passed, Virgil tapping his foot aimlessly. He stared at the ground as Logan continued to bicker, and as Becca desperately tried to calm him down. Eventually, Roman spoke up and told Becca that it was check-out time, which apparently entailed them filling out a sheet of paper before they were able to leave.

Thankfully, Becca told Virgil that he didn’t have to fill a check-out sheet today, which left him awkwardly tapping his pen against the table. He noticed Roman doodling in a blank space on the paper, mouthing the lyrics to a song Virgil couldn’t decipher. Patton was watching the clock after he had finished, which left Logan to be the only one still filling out the sheet.

Once they were finally blessed with the absence of silence in the form of Becca loudly exclaiming that they could start sharing aloud and dear God would Virgil have to do that tomorrow? They were finally allowed to leave.

After signing out and riding the elevator down, with all the other patients and their parents in the cramped space, they finally exited the building.

“So, what’d you think?” His dad asked as they walked to the car. Virgil simply shrugged in response.

And maybe, Virgil enjoyed it a little bit, just a little bit. But he wasn’t going to admit it after he claimed so adamantly that he would hate it the days prior.

The ride home was spent with Virgil telling his online friends what had happened in therapy that day, a task that would quickly become routine in his days at Sanders.

And maybe, just maybe, he was feeling a little bit better at returning the next day.

Maybe.

[shattered-catalyst]

♡ + family

Headcanon Meme:: or in the OC verse...This shit is Canon

//accepting

Family and Catalyst are a very complex and twisting topic that often times contradicts itself as he grows . Unfortunately he never had the Cadre Alliance to help him out ( or use him cough) but he also didnt have Xforce or anyone else in his corner. Hes been doing this all solo and thats why hes...An absolute counter intuitive wreck.

Sooo heres a write up since Im in pain and need something to focus on

tw for mentions of abuse,neglect, underage alcohol consumption, and all around Mojoworld Shittiness. If you know much about Mojoworld you know this is literally portrayed in canon I did not make this shit up okay i swear.

So Mojoworld doesnt have family units as we have them. There are no parents and there are seldom children. Children are in a tube being fed videos of violence and bloodshed (canon), they are taken out when they are capable of independent locomotion (something the spineless ones find absolutely disgusting. tune in next time for me to talk about how deep catalyst’s self loathing and self image and concept is affected by this).

Prior to this they are given a purpose and destination; entertainment- bands,singing, stunts,etc, servents, builders, farmers and harvesters, gladiators, and pets. Yes yes that is canon and yes I hate i had to write that.

Catalyst was ‘born’ Isaslan III and placed in the gladiator class to ensure peak anxiety +complex stress to make sure his mutation would activate. But he was also place in intense gameshow and survival show like programming during the off season to try and further speed up his mutation because Mojo is impatient.

Mojo is the godhead, the master programmer, all things lay in his hands.He places the young into units and has them train together in combat with more seasoned gladiators as their trainers. Each creche has a strict pecking order and depending on the personalities of those involved and their trainers the creche is either combative and competitive over their resources or co-operative.

Isaslan III had a co-operative creche, he just was rarely with them when they all weren’t exhausted so he didn’t get much in the way of interaction. When he did it definitely made up for it.

The gladiator class all refers to an internally reinforced honor system and they call each other intimate terms ‘brother’ ‘sister’ ‘friend’ are all used (canon). But it is more of a kinship with suffering and survival than with each other.

Isaslan III would consider them family if he had been with them a bit longer. But after his second season he was taken from the creche (most of his ‘siblings’ had since been killed in combat and only 5 of the original 12 remained) and taken to the more seasoned area all as part of Mojos plan to force a premature mutation. This was his first lost family.

Isaslan III didnt meet anyone else he would consider having a ‘family’ or any sort of bond with. Unless we consider the parasite like way Mojo and Arize both used him. Nah, not until Earth and god it just gets worse.

Here we have an alien who basically treats the world like GTA or any other simulation because Fuck if he knows if this is REAL or not and he doesnt know what LAWS are or how to read or ANYTHING and what does he land in? A fucking bar.

This is the second fucked up ‘family’ like situation he lands in. A bunch of adults who think the mutant kid who ‘likes’ to fight is ‘funny’ and they give him so much alcohol whenever his mutation acts up and it just goes spiraling downhill from there  Once he realizes this is all..A big joke he moves on but hes sworn off the idea of finding ‘family’ or anything like that.

Especially because his ideas are all based on modern cinema. Like he has 0 concepts outside of cinema and fucked up life experiences.

He doesnt consider his mutant town folks family, hes pushed family away as being something he isnt worthy of because it just isnt possible for him, or so he thinks,. He maintains a very distant, cold attitude whenever anyone pries too much or he feels hes becoming dependent on someone.

It makes therapy a bitch and trying to make friendships that seem, full, is extremely difficult. Instead he feels chronically acting and never actually genuinely connecting with others. He gravitates towards others like this; Laura (x-23) being an amazing example of this.

He falls into roles faster when he is older or more powerful than another person ie:” Livvy, Gabby, in some cases Laura (Logan Verse). He is invested in keeping them alive and caring for them but it can be very robotic at times and very much at odds with what is acceptable in terms of safety because hes taking what he learned in Gladiator school, in his creche and mashing it up with modern movies and yes he did try and teach Livvy how to kill someone with a lollipop okay yeah he did.

So the thought of having donors? aka: parents? Terrifies him beyond reason. Hes been raised to believe he can do nothing but fail them, and has it hammered in his head from one too many conversations with Mojo that they will kill him on sight for his own loses in the arenas.

Despite all that hes sorta...Really wanting parents. He really wants that support and guidance in his life. But itll take two years of intense therapy for him to cut the ‘i do not have fathers I have donors’ walls hes built up around himself.

His guilt and shame feed into Mojo’s brainwashing all to form a damning concoction that makes even considering reaching out to ricto.r or shatt.erstar almost impossible.

Though when i do get to write with these characters Catalyst’s curious and inquisitive nature ALWAYS gets the better of him and his progression actually speeds up a bit. TBH I genuinely miss those threads since it really strips all the characters defenseless and sometimes its so AWKWARD and its GREAT.

You can see him playing along with the role when with someone like Fabian Cortez where he willingly falls into a fake family dynamic, knowing full well fabian is manipulating him but he just doesnt care and is too depressed and he just wants to know even if its a lie what thats like. His early life on mojoworld prepared him to act like an idiot under the nose of arrogant men. He knows what hes doing and he has accepted the price this fake family costs him.

Still for Catalyst to genuinely feel like he has a family or to be a part of one will take years for him to build solid strong connections with others and probably a mini series or spin off or two where he gets to play supporting roles for them.

[winterknight1087]

Flower from the Fae (ch 35)

Chapter Title: To Dance with a Rumor

Summary: Virgil likes plants, but when he goes to investigate a plant his friend, Remy, tells him about, he doesn’t exactly check out the plant. Little does he know that the handsome man he meets there is a fairy who is about to challenge the world Virgil knows.

Word Count: 2927

Chapter Warnings: mention of past killings, anxiety attack, 

Chapter Pairings: LAMP

AO3 Link      My Writing

A/N: this is chapter 35, so read the first chapter here! 

“Alright, you will arrive with Roman, Virgil. Patton and I will be announced first, then Joan and Talyn over there. Next will be you and Roman and finally Thomas.” Logan stated, unconsciously fixing the witch’s suit as he spoke. “Before you ask, it is all based on rank and whatnot. Being the Prince’s Witch, you hold a higher rank than Pat and me within our government. This will introduce you to the people, with minimal effort or interaction on your part. We will be sat together at the head of the table, where you can sit between Roman and me, ensuring less access from other people, trying to speak with you on matters that they really shouldn’t even be asking about in the first place. Following dinner, you will escort Patton to the ballroom. I’ll come to save you once both of us have been spun around enough times to acceptable escape the dance floor.”

“Hey, LoLo? Take a deep breath. You and Virgil have discussed this several times already.” Patton said. “It’ll be fine.”

“Plus, you’re kind of out of time, Lo. You and Pat are about to be announced.” Thomas said, gently.

With a small burst of courage, Logan pecked Virgil’s cheek before taking Patton’s arm in his. “I’m sure you all are right.”

“If nothing else, I can trip Princey and make a break for it. It’ll be fine, Logan.” Virgil agreed.

Roman pretended to be hurt. “How dare you!”

“Royal Advisor Logan and Sir Patton!”

“Off you two go,” Talyn said, shooing them through the door. “Honestly, that boy worries more than he needs to sometimes.”

Thomas gave Roman and Virgil an amused eye roll. “Says a perfectionist who taught a perfectionist.”

“The Royal Advisors Joan and Talyn.”

“Don’t think I won’t get you for that after this.” Talyn hissed as they started for the door with Joan.

Roman looked at his partner. “Hey, take a deep breath, Vee. It will all be fine, I promise. I will be right here next to you the entire time. Gala will be on your shoulder like normal. It will be fine.”

“Now, introducing Prince Roman and, making his first court appearance, the Prince’s Witch, Sir Virgil.”

Virgil took a deep breath before Roman gently took his arm and gently led him through the doors. There were more people than Virgil had expected. Fairies and a handful of witches were scattered throughout the room. Virgil’s heart was racing, but Roman gently squeezed his hand as Gala started purring loudly in his ear. Virgil managed to find Patton who gave him a huge smile, and he found himself relaxing with Roman and Gala protecting him from both sides and Patton and Logan ahead of him.

They arrived at their seats and listened as Thomas was announced to the court. The king made his way through the hall at a brisk pace, not worried about the crowd getting a good look at him. They’ve probably seen enough of him anyways. Tonight was to introduce Virgil to the court, not let the tabloids trash the suit Joan and Talyn forced him into.

“Welcome all to the opening festivities for the Winter Equinox! Now, as we are all probably eager to dig into dinner, I will keep this short. I would like to thank Middle Grades Public School for determining this night’s theme and their incredible work decorating the ballroom! May the Middle Grades Public School students stand and be recognized for their work?”

Virgil watched a bunch of preteens stand up from where they were seated with their families in the middle of the table. He joined in the applause, smiling as they waved, excitedly. Thomas waited for the applause to die down and the children to sit back down before continuing.

“While they were formally announced, I would like to ask the Teachers of the Year to rise and be once again recognized for teaching is not an easy task and yet, they face that task with joy and perseverance.”

Thomas repeated this process with a group of palace workers and a group of charity workers before he arrived at his final recognition. “And finally, I would like to properly introduce one final person. My son has been fortunate enough to enter a deal with his partners and a witch. I would like to introduce him to the court and the people of our realm and wish him luck in having to deal with my son’s free spirit. May the witch, Virgil, and his familiar, Galaxy, please rise.”

There were chuckles running through the crowd as Thomas waved at the man next to his son. Virgil did not want to stand up, but he also knew that it was probably extremely rude not to accept a king’s introduction, so he did. His legs felt like jelly as fairies and witches alike clapped, excitedly. He could hear Gala purring in his ear and her tail flicking across his back at the attention. How did he, an anxious mess, get an extroverted, happy being the center of attention, kitten as his familiar? He glanced at Thomas and was relieved when he nodded and he was able to collapse back into his seat. Gala jumped onto the table and sought out Patton, looking for scratches.

“Now, while I could go on forever, I think we would all like me to go quiet and have dinner! Please enjoy Master Chef Frello’s magnificent feast!” Thomas announced, before taking his seat.

In a flurry of movement, food was set along the tables. Virgil’s mouth started to water at all the smells. Someone set up a small cat dinner placement next to him and Gala attacked the food eagerly while her human started to set up his own plate.

“Free spirit!” Roman screeched at his father. “Really, Dad!”

“I thought it was a better phrase than eccentricities, inability to sit still, and many other descriptions,” Thomas answered, eagerly grabbing the bowl of mash potatoes. “If nothing else, it should put Virgil in a better light as people know how hard it can be to deal with you.”

“DAD!”

Logan rolled his eyes at the king and prince’s playful taunts. “You alright, Virgil?”

“This all appears to be more than just a simple dinner as you had originally put it to me. But, uh, yeah. I’ll be fine.” He answered, awkwardly. “Just a lot more exposure therapy for poor Virgil. He’ll get used to it, eventually.”

“Oh, yikes, referring to yourself in the third person?” Joan commented. “Not a good sign. Makes you sound possessed.”

Joan watched as Roman leaned over and whispered something to Virgil. Both Virgil and Logan went red at whatever the prince had said. They glanced to their side where Patton was trying to tempt Gala with some chicken, oblivious to his partners blushing across from him. Joan quickly turned the conversation away to a more comfortable topic.

An hour later, Virgil found himself linked arms with Patton, moving into a ballroom. The giant room was decorated as a snow-covered forest. Virgil was surprised to see how well-done everything looked. There were even snowflakes falling, that vanished before coming close to touching his head. The trees along the walls looked to be real, though Virgil could tell they were fake once he ran some of the pine needles between his fingers. The forest seemed to go on forever. Off in the distance, Virgil saw an ice rink with some fairies already ice skating.

“A bunch of preteens did all of this?” he asked Pat as they made their way through the room.

“Yup! It’s a tradition that the Middle Grades decorate the Winter Solstice ball. Thomas gives the school access to professional help, of course, but it’s the kids who design everything.” Patton giggled. “He loves having the community involved in these sorts of things. Come on! Let’s go dance!”

Virgil smiled at Patton dragged him off. They danced and laughed and Virgil was having a lot of fun. Eventually, they bumped into Roman and Logan. As if completely natural, Roman twirled Logan and somehow ended up with Patton’s hand while Logan spun into Virgil’s arms. They laughed and danced at little together, but eventually, it became a bit too much for the two introverts of the group. They wandered away from the dance floor to go get a drink.

“It’s the Prince’s Witch and Advisor!” Virgil heard someone say before Logan and he were swarmed by fairies he could only assume were actual nobles and whatnots.

They crowded the fairy and witch. While trying not to be obvious about it, they were obviously trying to get themselves on the witch’s good side. Virgil was grateful that he had Logan with him as the advisor easily shut down any bribery, favors, and whatever else Virgil couldn’t keep track of. Still, it was too many people and too many people trying to keep his attention. He really needs to leave soon or he was going to end up in an anxiety attack.

“MREOW!”

Virgil winced at Gala’s scream, right in his ear. “Really? You don’t need to scream, Gal. My ear is literally right there.”

“I think we should be heading off, great noble beings,” Logan said, jumping on the kitten’s interruption. “The Royal Familiar appears to require some water. It’s been a pleasure.”

Without another word, Logan grabbed Virgil’s arm and dragged him towards the drink table. “Gala, I owe you one later.”

The kitten was once again purring as she was set on the table and given a small bowl of water. Virgil smiled as he accepted a drink. Logan smiled at his partner before telling him that he’d arranged a small surprise for the anxious man.

“Lo, you didn’t need to,” Virgil answered, letting the kitten climb back onto her perch.

“If I recall correctly, technically yes, I did. Come on,”

Logan led Virgil through the ballroom forest until they arrived in a little clearing. There were a few beings loitering around, finding a quiet spot away from the noise. Logan led Virgil over to a single man with brown wings. Virgil’s breath caught as they moved closer to him and Vee saw bright red-eyes.

“Mothman.” He breathed, excitedly.

“I didn’t understand why witches kept calling me that until Sir Logan explained it to me.” The fairy commented, not even turning to look at the approaching fairy and witch. “I take it that you are Virgil, the new witch for the prince and his partners. I’m Robert, though most call me Red-Eyed Bob.”

“I asked Robert if he would be willing to meet you once we discovered that he was the source of the Mothman myth you were so interested in,” Logan said, smiling at his excited partner.

Robert finally turned from the puzzle he’d been working on and froze as his eyes took in the witch before him. “By the great beating wings…”

The excitement vanished from the young witch, only to be replaced with uncertainty. “Is something wrong, sir?”

He opened and shut his mouth uncertainly a couple of times. “I… Your eyes…”

Virgil mentally sighed, used to people being taken aback by the purple eye. “I know it’s odd, but they are my natural eye color.”

“No, not that.” Robert looked thoroughly shaken. “Tell me, boy. What is your last name?”

“Uh…” Now Virgil was uncomfortable.

“He will not be sharing that. Security risk for the prince.” Logan cut in, easily, though he looked mildly uncomfortable as well.

Robert nodded. “Might I ask instead of your mother’s name, then?”

“I don’t know her name for certain,” Virgil answered, starting to feel really uncomfortable. “Why?”

“It’s just, you look like a woman who cursed the realm, years ago,” Robert answered, looking over the man carefully. “Did his majesty approve of your deal with the prince?”

Virgil’s mind threw the memory of King Thomas screaming into his arm the first time they met. “What do you mean I look like a woman who cursed the realm?”

“You don’t know? Surely his majesty…”

“I have only had a few conversations with him. Please, tell me.”

Robert rubbed the back of his neck as his brown wings fluttered. “I only know rumors, you’d probably be better off asking his majesty…”

“Please.”

Robert looked at the man before him before sighing. “I can only tell you rumors, kid.”

“Tell me, please.”

The fairy paused looking over the anxious witch. “I would rather not, but I also see that you are going to be persistent and honestly, it’ll probably be better you hear the story before someone comes after you. Well, I guess to start with, it’s said to be bad luck to meet a witch with purple eyes and worse yet, a single one. Most of us believed that family died out with the woman’s death, but… Anyways, it’s said a young girl was traded to a traitorous fairy who abused her to no end. One day, she unleashed her power and went on a killing spree. She killed off the fairy who took her, many within his lands, and even the king’s parents. No one is sure how she managed to reach him, but she kidnapped King Thomas shortly after his coronation. Many believe she tortured him into agreeing to let her return to the human world. Some say, she found a way to cast a reverse fae deal, where a human tricks a fairy into agreeing to a deal that the fairy cannot break. She made a single appearance in court with his majesty and then vanished, leaving behind hundreds of dead.”

“Wait, why would King Thomas just let her go like that if she killed people? He would have had her arrested and imprisoned for her crimes.” Logan asked.

Robert shrugged. “No one knows. Some say that he was traumatized and threw the record out of her existence. Others say that it was part of the reverse deal she forced him into. Personally, I believe he decided that to best protect our people she had to be sent away. He banished her from our realm and has made it hard, if not impossible, to track her down so that any fae looking for revenge couldn’t find her.”

Virgil gulped, thinking about the king’s reaction to him. What if it was true? Was all of that true? Logan could feel Virgil’s mental struggle, but he wasn’t sure what to do in order to help. Robert wasn’t looking at either of them anymore as he picked at a puzzle piece, uncomfortable with this whole interaction, and planning to cast some wards upon his home tonight, just in case.

“I… uh… well…” what was there for him to say? “Thank you for telling me, sir. We’ll… uh… let you enjoy the rest of your night.”

With that, Virgil dragged Logan away from the uncomfortable fairy. He didn’t really pay attention to where he was going, nor responded to anyone calling towards either of them. He was only interested in getting out of this room. Once they stepped out of the ballroom, Logan took the lead and led the shaking man back to the apartment, not speaking until the door was shut behind them.

“Virgil, breathe.”

“What if that was my mother? I never knew her other than what my bastard father told me about her. What if Thomas hates me? If that’s all true… what if people connect me to that stuff and want revenge for something I didn’t do?” Virgil wasn’t breathing and Gala wasn’t able to boop his nose out of the anxiety attack this time.

Logan tried his best to help Virgil breathe, but the anxiety attack wasn’t going to go away that easily. He wasn’t sure how long it took before he managed to get Virgil to start following a breathing pattern, but relief filled the advisor while he did. Once the man was breathing, Logan sent him into the closet– which was the only room that didn’t have a mirror so he didn’t see his mismatched eyes– to change out of the suit and into a set of PJs.

“What do you want to do about this, Virgil?” Logan finally asked when both were out of their formal wear. “We can go discuss this with Thomas in the morning.”

“I doubt he’ll talk about it. He didn’t after our first meeting and he literally screamed after seeing me.” Virgil answered, miserably.

“Hey, I can tell you right now, Thomas does not hate you, Virgil.” Logan gently took the man’s hand. “He said it himself that it wasn’t your fault. He already loves you like he loves Roman, Patton, and me. He may be willing to discuss this with you now that you two know each other better.”

“No… even if I were convinced of that, he said those memories were repressed.” Virgil tried to keep tears from spilling. “Plus, I don’t know if I want to hear the real story after hearing that.”

Logan slowly nodded. “Alright, do you want to watch some movies then? We are certainly not returning after all of that and honestly, I don’t think either of us want to deal with people asking us questions while we linger about.”

“Uh, yeah…Sure.”

The two of them collected blankets and made a giant soft bed to lay on before putting in Black Cauldron. That’s how Patton and Roman found the two of them almost three hours later. They quickly changed and joined the cuddle party, oblivious to the thoughts running through their partners’ heads.

Next Chapter

Taglist: @that-one-nb-kid, @hufflepuffxfox

[timeoutforthee]

Like it or Not-Chapter 23

Taglist: @itsausernamenotafobsong, @sea-blue-child, @iaminmultiplefandoms, @princeanxious, @uwillbeefoundtonight, @zaidiashipper, @arandompasserby, @levyredfox3, @falsett0, @error-i-dunno-what-went-wrong, @scrapbookofsketches, @podcastsandcoffee, @helloisthisusernametaken, @amuthefunperson, @michealawithana, @yamihatarou, @heck-im-lost, @unlikelynightmareconnoisseur, @idkaurl, @bubblycricket, @fnp-alizay, @neonbluetiefling, @comicsimpson, @a-little-bit-of-ace

Summary: Logan, Patton, Roman, and Virgil are all struggling in their recovery. Their doctors, Thomas Sanders and Emile Picani think they can help each other out.

Aka Group Therapy AU

Trigger Warnings:  Remus, referenced fictional murder, referenced bingeing/purging, therapy session

Read it on AO3!

Roman had marched into class earlier, fully prepared to demand a new partner as soon as Remus started speaking. Now, he was staring at his rival with an open mouth. This is not how he was planning for this to go, at all.

“Run that by me,” Roman finally says, “One more time.”

“I want to write a play,” Remus says, drawing out his words obnoxiously slow, “About a man interviewing several monsters to find out which one killed him. Each monster will be a representation of a mental illness.”

“That…” Roman stares at him, still shocked, “....that’s okay?”

“Oh my God, has it happened?” Remus asks a fake audience, “Has Roman Prince gotten the stick out of his ass?”

“We’ll have to be careful,” Roman hurries to amend, “I mean, we’re dealing with representation and we don’t want to offend anyone, but it’s doable.”

“Nope!” Remus says, “It is still jammed up there.”

“Do you want us to do your idea or not?” Roman counters.

Remus laughs. “If I recall correctly, we don’t have a choice about that.”

“Anyway,” Roman says, glossing over that particular detail, “What are your ideas? Who is this man? Who are the monsters?”

“Oh!” Remus says, immediately lighting up, and pulling a sketchbook from his backpack, “I have sketches! Monsters with two faces for bipolar disorder, a monster covered in cuts-”

“See, that’s an example of what we’re not going to do,” Roman interrupts.

“Roman,” Remus says, huffing, “Don’t you want to explore something deeper than your usual fairytales?”

“Don’t you want to come up with something a bit more original?”

That catches Remus off guard, and his face falls, He looks down at his sketchbook.

“You’re the best costume designer the Theater department has,” Roman says. It kills him to admit, but even he knows it’s true, “I’m sure you can come up with something.”

“I suppose you’re right,” Remus says, sighing. “Now, this guy…” ^

“How’d your meeting go today, Roman?” Patton says, trying to sound like his normal, bubbly self. But there’s a rock in his stomach as the end of the school day is approaching, and group is quickly coming up.

“...well?” Roman says, unsure.

“It either went well or it didn’t, Roman, it isn’t a hard question,” Logan says.

“I know, I’m just...surprised,” Roman continues, “Remus actually had a good idea? And I’m...excited to elaborate on it?”

“What was it?” Virgil asks.

“A man is interviewing a group of monsters, all representative of mental illnesses, to see which one killed him.”

“That’s dark, I like it,” Virgil responds.

“Not surprised by that,” Roman says. “We’ll need to tread carefully, to make sure we don’t misrepresent anything or offend anyone, but it’s doable, right?”

“Right!” Patton says, even though he’s not exactly thrilled with the idea of monsters. Darkness wasn’t really his thing.

“Virgil and I need to start making some creative decisions as well,” Logan says, “We’ve started the creative writing chapter of the class.”

“Aren’t you guys excited?” Mrs. Spencer asks, “I always love hearing all the stories coming from my students every year!”

Virgil looks like he would have a lot to say if the teacher of the class wasn’t in the same room.

“Maybe Virgil will let us read some of his writing!” Patton says, still trying to keep his head up, “Since you want to be a novelist and everything?”

“Oh, Virgil, I didn’t know you were interested in writing!” Mrs. Spencer says.

“It’s not a big deal, really,” Virgil says, brushing it off, “I’m not very good.”

“I’m sure that’s not true, but if it is, we can always work on it,” she says before shifting focus on to her lunch.

“How’d you guys’ goals go?” Roman asks.

“Satisfactory,” Logan says, “Dr. Sanders said he wants me to start tackling the emotional side of disorder soon, but for now I accomplished my goal of eating different foods.”

“I’ve talked to my aunt more,” Virgil says, “I told her what Picani and I’ve been talking about, but not much else. I guess it’s something.” He takes a bite of his lunch. “What about-”

“Patton!” Roman says, a bit louder than necessary, “How’d yours go, Patton?”

“Oh-uh-well,” Patton thinks back to last session. With everything going on, he has completely forgotten about his original goal, “Dr. Sanders and I kinda...forgot about that part?”

“How?” Roman says.

“We were discussing...other...things,” Patton says. Oh God, everyone is starting to look at him. “I-I’ll-” he sighs. “I have something to tell you guys. Later. In group.”

They stare a little longer before Logan finally says, quietly, “Okay.”

Just then, the bell rings.

As everyone starts packing up, Patton feels a rock in his stomach. He looks around at everyone and gives them a smile. He’s going to miss them when they go.

^

“Welcome back, guys!” Dr. Sanders greets them, walking in. “How is everyone? I think Dr. Picani said something about you guys setting some goals last week, how’d those go?”

“Uh, great!” Roman says, “But Patton said he had something to tell us before we get started.”

“Oh, uh, I don’t want to derail the session,” Patton says, desperately clinging to the hope that he can get out of it.

“Don’t be silly!” Dr. Sanders said, “This is your session, you guys control what we talk about.”

“Oh...goooood…,” Patton says.

“So what is it, Pat?” Virgil asks after they’ve been sitting in silence for a while.

“You know, maybe this was silly, I didn’t mean to make a big deal out of this, it’s not really that important-”

“If it was unimportant, it’d be much easier to say,” Logan says.

“Heh, you got me there,” Patton says. He tries to bring it up in his brain, to bring the words to his mouth, but it’s getting stuck and the room is falling silent again and everyone is looking at him and thinking about how disgusting he looks and-

“Patton,” Thomas says. Patton tears his eyes away from the floor and looks up at his therapist. “Take a deep breath.” Patton does, although it’s shaky. “One more.” This one is much more steady. “Now, opposite action. Exposing the action in front of others who won’t reject you. This is a safe space.”

“Yeah, Patton, whatever it is, we won’t be, like, mad at you,” Virgil says.

“So you say,” Patton snorts, even though there’s no humor in it. He immediately regrets it when Virgil pulls back a bit, surprised and hurt. “I didn’t mean that,” he automatically says. “I just…” he takes a deep breath. “Guys, I haven’t been honest. I’ve been lying about getting better. I never stopped purging.”

The room falls silent, and a few tears escape from Patton’s eyes.

“What do you mean?” Virgil asks, quietly.

“I mean every night, I sneak down to my kitchen, I binge, then I purge. I can’t stop. I didn’t try to stop.”

“Did you think we would be mad at you for that?” Virgil asks.

“You should be mad at me for that, I’m a liar,” Patton says, “You’ve all worked so hard and come so far, and I was just...sitting here.”

“Yes,” Logan speaks up, “Sitting here in group therapy. Sitting there in individual therapy. You’re trying just as hard as we are, Patton.”

“But I can’t stop purging, that is the one thing I have to do!”

“That’s like saying the one thing I have to do is eat,” Virgil says.

“Or stop exercising,” Roman adds on.

“And we haven’t been able to do that, not quickly, not easily,” Logan says, “Of course we don’t expect you to stop just like that.”

“Generally speaking, you guys haven’t been working on this that long, and you’ve covered a lot of ground already,” Thomas says, “And your purging or bingeing is a maladaptive coping mechanism you use to deal with your emotions. You can’t just stop these behaviors, you must learn to better cope with the emotions, or else you’ll just replace them with other maladaptive coping mechanisms, such as self harm.”

Virgil’s face pales at that, but no one notices.

“You also have to stop looking at it like absolutes. ‘I haven’t stopped purging yet, so I never will.’ That’s not fair to you or the therapeutic process. You don’t have all the skills required to get to the point where you can cope.”

“I shouldn’t even need these skills,” Patton says, “I don’t…”

They all wait patiently for him to continue, and Dr. Sanders prompts him. “Patton?”

“I don’t have anything to be upset about,” Patton says. “So I don’t know why I have all these negative coping skills.”

“People don’t need a reason to be upset, necessarily,” Logan says.

��Well, yeah, if you have depression or something, but I don’t,” Patton doesn’t notice Thomas write something down in his notebook, “I just have a loving family and a good life and no reason to complain and I’m just being ungrateful.”

“What do you think qualifies a “good life,” Patton?”

“I don’t know, friends, family, love, something!”

“So you have a lot of friends?”

Patton’s stomach drops at the reminder of what school was like last year. “Well, I have friends now.”

“And didn’t you say one of your moms died?”

Patton feels like ice water has been poured over him. “I-I don’t want to talk about that.”

“That’s fine, we don’t have to,” Thomas rushes to say, “I’m just saying, if you look at things objectively, you have a few things to be upset about. That’s fair, and you don’t need to deny those feelings.”

“O-okay.”

“Plus, you seem to talk to yourself in a very negative way, but that’s something we need to explore next time,” Dr. Sanders says, looking at his watch. “Until next time, guys.”

The four boys stand up and make their way out of the room.

“Patton, I am...proud of you,” Logan tells him. Patton has been keeping his eyes on the ground, but now he looks up and over at his friend.

“What? Why?”

“For the same reason you were proud of me for eating a grape. Because you made a step in your recovery, and you should be proud.”

“Yeah, Patton, you should be proud,” Roman adds. Virgil nods.

They reach the front of the building and Roman and Logan break off, waving goodbye. Patton and Virgil wave back.

“Oh! I see my mom!” Patton says, spotting her car.

“Wait, Pat.”

“Yeah?”

Virgil hesitates only a second, before he grabs Patton and wraps his arms around him. Patton is caught off guard but quickly hugs him back. They stand there for a moment, before they both pull away.

“Thanks, Virge.”

“Anytime,” Virgil says, watching him walk away. When he sees all his friends get into their cars, he sighs and makes his way to his aunt’s car.

He sighs, thinking about how his friends are starting to open up to each other. How much it seems to help. Maybe...maybe it’s time he considered telling them why he moved to town.

[pllandcompany]

Out Loud (Epilogue)

Summary: Hospital!AU. Logan has a visitor in rehab.

Warnings: mention of past drug use/addiction; reference to past gun violence; little bit of weight talk, otherwise pleasant

Pairings: Platonic Analogical; reference to romantic Logince and QPP Moxiety

Tagged: @ziallwarrior @apologieslogan @thecatchat @flyingfreeyt @crofters-jam @band-be-boss-blog @trueunreal @jakesmolbean @thefallendog

Notes: I wanted to add a little happy to this ‘verse. This was almost the end of part five but it just didn't fit with how I wanted it to end so have this extra part instead! Enjoy!

 Logan stood in front of the marble columns surrounding the entrance of Clarion Waters, the place he had called home for the past 49 days. The brisk air nipped into him slightly; his cardigan was definitely not enough to protect against the temperatures of Maine in late February but Logan didn’t care about the cold. Although his face wouldn’t betray him, he was far too excited to be concerned about the weather. A familiar face was on his way to him and Logan was more than eager to greet them at the door. Just as his resolve against the chilling breeze began to fade, a black sedan pulled into the winding driveway leading up to the entrance. Logan couldn’t fight the smile creeping onto his face as he jogged up to the car that was now stopped with the passenger window down.

“Dude, what the hell are you doing outside? Does pneumonia sound pleasant to you?”

Logan actually chuckled, leaning down to look at his visitor. “It’s good to see you too, Virgil.” The man of the hour returned Logan’s greeting with one of his trademark shy smiles, a rare look reserved for a very short list of people. “Get inside while I park this thing. It’s a rental and I’m burning gas.” Logan shook his head, still chuckling. He straightened up and watched Virgil drive towards the parking lot before he turned back to head indoors.

An agonizing minute and a half passed before he saw Virgil again in a warmer climate, his black leather jacket and silver studs glinting in the light of the foyer. “Whoo, that driveway’s a hike. I guess they don’t call it the long road to recovery for nothing.” Virgil winked, preparing to shake Logan’s hand and getting caught off guard when he was pulled in for a hug. “Wow, I was not expecting this,” Virgil mumbled, surprised by how moved the gesture made him as Logan held on and leaned into the touch. Virgil cleared his throat and blinked his eyes rapidly. “Okay, you big sap. Let me go so I can get a good look at you.” He pulled back and held Logan by the shoulders, scanning him up and down. “It’s nice to see some color in your face again.” Logan gently shoved Virgil away, cheeks reddening even more at the smirk he wore. “You’re incorrigible,” he grumbled.

“Don’t be embarrassed, dude. It’s cool, you missed me.” Virgil shrugged indifferently, hoping to relax Logan by calming himself. It seemed to work as Logan stopped shuffling his feet and exhaled deeply, looking Virgil in the eyes. “I suppose I did. It’s been…difficult here at times. It’s refreshing to see a familiar face.”

Virgil gave him that cherished look again. “I get that. Seriously though, you look good. Like, healthy and shit.”

Logan looked sheepish. “Are you certain? The doctors say I needed to but I’ve put on quite a bit of weight since I’ve been here-“

“Dude, do I look like I care about that? I’m surprised you do.” Virgil quirked an eyebrow. Logan took another deep breath and shook his head slightly. “Sorry, it’s a recent fixation. Probably to distract me from thinking about drugs,” he deadpanned. Virgil began to sputter, a response clearly evading him. “Calm down, Virge. It was merely a joke, no need to panic.” It was Logan’s turn to wink, only serving to unwind Virgil further. “I think you need some coffee. Why don’t we have a seat in the lounge and I’ll grab you some?”

He led Virgil to a secluded sitting area, settling him before he grabbed them two lattes from the self-serve bar and joining him on the plush couches. "Nice digs you've got here. It's fancier than I expected," Virgil quipped. Logan shrugged in response. "I presume they make it aesthetically pleasing so no one signs themselves out after the first therapy session." Virgil snorted. "I mean yeah, that makes sense but I couldn't listen to that fountain all day without having to pee every five minutes." Logan sipped at his coffee absently, a small smile playing on his lips. "You get used to it," he responded softly.

They sipped in silence for a few moments until Logan looked up and caught Virgil apprising him once again. “What?” he spat out in a mildly defensive manner.

“You’re…different,” Virgil mused.

“I should hope so. I would assume not being hooked on narcotics has something to do with it,” Logan drawled sarcastically.

“See, like that! You’re joking, smiling; you actually hugged me, for Christ’s sake! You’re really different. Don’t worry, it’s good, it’s just…startling, is all.” That sheepish look crossed Logan’s face again. He started playing with the sleeve of his coffee. “This place is more than just detox, Virgil. They work on the whole person. It makes sense that I’ve changed.” Logan paused briefly. “How…how are things at the hospital?”

“You mean ‘how is Roman?’ ”

Logan pursed his lips. “And Patton and you too, good grief, I’m not that myopic.”

Virgil laughed brightly. “We’re good. Patton and I are both sleeping better. He seems happier, too. Like, genuinely, not that fake act that he does. And Roman is…okay. He wasn’t at first, he, uh…got in a fight with Nate, actually.”

Logan tensed. “About me, I presume?”

“Y-yeah, but please, don’t blame yourself. Roman just…well, Nate cleared you and then everything happened and he just…he was angry.”

“He was hurting,” Logan said softly. “Nate cleared me because I manipulated him. I manipulated everyone around me, God…I’m sorry, Virgil. I’m so sorry.”

Virgil gently placed a hand on his friend’s knee. “You’re already forgiven. Besides, my brand new skills will come in handy now that I’m department head.” He leaned back in the chair and folded his arms behind his head, glancing over at the dawning realization blossoming to his right.

“You got the promotion? Congratulations, Virgil, you’ll be fantastic.”

“Thanks, dude. I genuinely owe part of it to you. I mean, the way it all went down wasn’t the best but at least something good came out of it. So you can stop beating yourself up,” he joked casually, knocking Logan lightly in the shoulder. “You and Roman are a good thing too.”

“I certainly hope we still are.” Logan looked down at the ground wistfully.

“He still hasn’t been by to visit?” Logan shook his head. “He’s called a few times. But we’re starting couples therapy next week so he’ll have to see me then.”

"So he agreed to it? That's a good sign, man. That means he's at least willing to try." Logan nodded, not looking totally convinced.

"I just...I messed things up so much. I'm afraid that they're beyond repair. And I don't want to lose him..." He shook his head again as if to clear it then exhaled and smiled at Virgil expectantly. “But that’s tomorrow’s problem. One day at a time, right?”

Virgil nodded thoughtfully. “Right…how are you doing, Lo? I mean, for real. How are you?”

Another deep breath echoed across the lobby. “I suppose I should have been expecting that question…I am…adequate. Truly. It’s been…challenging and I’ll be honest with you, I still don’t believe that I’m not responsible for what happened one hundred percent of the time. But I’m starting to understand why I did.”

“Why? I’ve always…wondered.”

“It takes some explaining.”

Virgil narrowed his eyes at Logan, mirth crinkling the edges. “You know I don’t mind that. Talk away.”

“Okay…looking at the facts, Lauren Bacall would not have survived any procedure I did. Her heart walls were too badly damaged and regardless of my technique or skill level, surgery would and did result in her death. Choosing the chief’s approach, even though I did not initially agree with it, did not kill her. Her condition did. I understand that. I also understand grief and how that fact would not matter to her husband David. He was emotional and angry and overwhelmed by loss. Medicine couldn’t comfort him; nothing could. What I don’t understand is how you make the leap from grief-stricken husband to cold-blooded killer. I never understood that, I mean, we see people lose loved ones every day and they don’t commit horrendous acts of violence afterward. I think that blaming myself was my mind’s way making a senseless act understandable.”

“Well, from what you’ve told me, you had help with that,” Virgil said dryly.

“Right. He did make the idea seem…very logical. So I accepted it. Thirteen people died and there had to be a reason so I made it me. But of course, no one can withstand that kind of guilt so then…well, you know the rest.”​

"That's huge, Logan. I'm proud of you for figuring that out."

"Well, I had help with that too. The therapist I see here is...unusual. But his methods, they work; they help take me outside of myself enough so I can look at the issue objectively and identify the source of my emotions rather than getting overwhelmed by them."

"Is that what happened before? You got...overwhelmed?"

Logan nodded. "Yes. And afraid of the intensity of my feelings. So I ran away from them in the most effective way I knew how. But now, I'm learning how to not do that. And I'm learning coping mechanisms that will help me navigate difficult emotions in a healthy way."

Virgil leaned forward in his chair. "So...how do we help? Once you get home, I mean."

Logan cocked his head to the side. "That won't be for another few weeks, Virgil, you don't need to worry about that yet."

"The hell we don't, Lo. Patton, Roman, me, we're your support system. We need to be prepared to act on that in whatever way you need us to."

"You three are all I've got? I'm doomed," Logan droned, a cheeky grin teasing the left side of his lips. Virgil chucked a throw pillow at him, barely suppressing his laughter.

"Oh my God, I cannot take your new level of sarcasm, stop! I'm being serious!" He settled down and fixed Logan with a gentle but intense look. "How do we help?"

"Well," Logan began, sighing, "you don't let me run from my emotions. If you suspect I'm feeling something and suppressing it, you have my permission to call me on it so we can take a minute to...talk through it. Sometimes I don't even know I'm doing it so I'll need help with that. Meetings, of course, no matter how busy I am. And the rest...just do...this. Be yourself. Have coffee with me. Treat me like you would normally. The best thing I can do for myself is establish a healthy routine as soon as possible. Part of that is having healthy friendships so...just be you. That's all."

"I think I can handle that, General. I think we all can." Virgil placed a hand on Logan's shoulder. "Roman, too. I think he'll come around, I really do." Logan smiled briefly, his face settling back into its neutral expression. "I do hope you're right about that...Chief."

"Oh, bringing out the nicknames, too? Man, this counselor's a miracle worker...although I like the sound of that one. Chief. I hope I can live up to it."

"You will, Virgil. We all will. Live up to what life demands of us, I mean. It is possible, I believe that now. It's bizarre, I've always had a bright future but for the first time...I actually have hope for it. Along with fear and anxiety, sure but with that, there's actually hope. Huh. Never thought I'd get here before." Logan's voice sounded far off as if it was traveling the same path as his thoughts, flying above them in the lobby and out of the glass door. Virgil grabbed his hand and squeezed it, bringing him back to earth. "Hey. One day at a time, though, right?" Logan smiled in agreement.

"One day at a time."

[thelittleredheadedmusician]

Cut the Death Jokes

For Day 6- Death of the Batfam Halloween Content War! Tim isn’t a big fan of the obligatory October death jokes. Special Guests Conner Kent/Kon-el, Bart Allen, Garfield Logan, Raven, and Rose Wilson! Rating: PG Gen Words: 2,202 AO3

Life was tough. Living as all the people you’re close to die? Even tougher. So when Halloween rolls around and the inevitable zombie jokes start rolling out from those who have came back Tim gets rather uncomfortable. It’s not that he begrudges them the ability to joke, if anything it’s a healthier-than-what-most-of-his-family-does coping mechanism.

It starts October first and Tim is glad that it’s at least Jason, who’s jokes about dying and being undead are a regular occurrence over Tim’s comms. He’s laying on his back on a couch in the manor’s living room when the older boy walks in. Jason takes one look at Tim and the bruise like circles under his eyes and grimaces. “Wow Replacement. You look about as good as me, which is to say corpselike.”

Tim frowns up at him as Jason smiles and continues to tease him. “I know you’re still trying to fill my pixie boots but being dead inside is enough, you don’t have to look the part too.”

Glaring Tim sat up, skootching back towards the armrest as Jason flops down by his feet. “Must you?” Tim asked acidly.

“Uh, duh? It’s my month man! October is prime time for the undead like me! I get to crack as many jokes as I want and no one can stop me.”

Tim frowned and turned to half watch the crappy horror movie that Jason had flipped on.

A couple days later Tim was nursing a large mug of coffee at the kitchen table while Dick argued with Damian over breakfast. Alfred had begrudgingly agreed to let Dick cook with his supervision and Damian was now staunchly refusing to eat it. Which Tim didn’t exactly blame him for; Dick’s pancakes were infamous.

“Grayson, I have died once and believe me I don’t need to do it again!” the younger boy yelled, brandishing a butter knife.

Dick just narrowed his eyes. “Rude.”

“Do you have to?” Tim muttered.

“What are you mumbling, Drake?” Damian spat.

“I said, do you have to? Make jokes like that?” Tim looked at his brothers wearily. He’d had a rough night breaking up a turf war in the East End and really didn’t need any emotional strain on top of the physical exhaustion.

“-tt- Drake it was only the truth. Grayson’s cooking is deadly and I do not wish to be subjected to it,” Damian said with a weird look.

From the stove Dick also raised an eyebrow at Tim. Taking a sip of his coffee Tim shook his head. “Whatever. Just ignore me,” he mumbled into his mug.

Titans weekend rolled around and instead of training they had all agreed to do some team bonding and in the spirit of Halloween Garfield had pulled out his and Victor’s combined horror movie library for the day. Tucked into a blanket burrito and squeezed between Bart and Rose on the couch Tim had started to doze off. The movies not holding his attention and the sounds of Cassie and Kon making dinner in the other room similar enough to home that it was becoming increasingly difficult for Tim to stay even remotely awake.

“That is disgustingly inaccurate,” Raven observed of the ‘demonic symbols’ on the screen. Tim cracked an eye open and had to agree. “Not to mention,” Raven continued. “That resurrection scene was beyond unrealistic.”

Tim made a face from his blanket cocoon. “Raven…” He half chided, half whined.

“Yeah Rae! It’s a movie! Just enjoy it!” Gar said, sticking his tongue out at her.

“As much I hate to say it, but I’m with Raven. This movie sucks,” Bart chimed in from beside Tim. “I think we could make a better one. I mean, some of us at least know what it’s like to actually die.”

Without a second thought Tim shot out his elbow, directly into Bart’s side. The speedster yelped and glared at Tim.

“Dude! What was that?!” Bart pouted, rubbing a spot just below his ribs.

Tim just glared back at Bart while on his other side Rose laughed. “That was the most aggressive passive aggressive thing I’ve ever seen the bird boy scout do and I am proud,” she said with a wicked grin.

Tim just snuggled deeper into his blankets while the others all gave him questioning looks.

Tim was having an average, boring Wednesday at work when he got a text from Cass. All it had was the house emoji and the ambulance emoji which meant that he was to come home right now because there was an emergency. Phone in hand Tim grabbed his keys and the suit jacket from the back of his office chair. He rushed past his secretary, mentioning that his sister needed him for some emergency before half sprinting to the elevator. On the ride down to the parking garage he texted Cass asking her for more details and just got the house emoji again.

He had barely parked his sports car in front of the manor before he was hurtling out of it and up the steps through the front doors. “Cass! Cass! Where are you? Cass!” Tim yelled, his dress shoes losing traction on the foyer’s marble floor causing him to skid to a haphazard stop at the base of the grand staircase.

His sister appeared at the top of the steps, a mischievous smile twisting her lips and her short hair sticking out at odd angles. She waved him up before disappearing back down the halls towards the little used west wing of the manor. Kicking off the cursed shoes Tim followed. She led him further up the manor’s numerous floors to a hall that dead-ended with a window overlooking the patio, pool, and sprawling grounds at the back of the house. Said window had been propped open and what appeared to be a zipline was stretched from the window to a tree at the edge of the property’s small forest.

Cass turned to him and her eyes sparkled. “Need a lookout,” she confessed, confirming Tim’s suspicions that Alfred had no knowledge nor approval of this particular adventure.

Tim’s shoulders slumped and his head dipped as he looked at Cass with a frown. He knew that she was getting every bit of annoyance, disbelief, and brotherly concern that his body was practically screaming at her.

Cass just giggled and shrugged. “You only live twice little brother.”

Tim let out a groan so dramatic it required him to fling his head back and go half limp. “Cass! Really? You’ve been hanging around Jason way too much. You should be better than this!”

“I know. I’m sorry. Just… couldn’t resist,” she admitted and patted his head in a half-hearted attempt to soothe him.

“You owe me.”

“I do. Love you brother,” she held out her arms for a hug and begrudgingly Tim accepted it. “Tis the season,” Cass whispered in his ear as they embraced.

“Don’t tell me about it,” Tim grumbled.

The jokes became increasingly worse and more frequent as the month progressed, Tim had taken to muting certain friends and family members on his comms when he needed to. Although he hadn’t figured out a way to mute people in person.

He was working with Steph on taking out Riddler and a group of his thugs on night. The quips and batarangs were both flying and Tim had to admit that he was having fun riffing off of Steph. Although that ended rather abruptly.

Steph was dodging punches and knocking guns away with her staff as she laughed. “Oh c’mon boys, you’ve gotta do better than that! I mean, the enthusiasm is appreciated but really? Death is very been there done that for me and you guys are just so uninspired with your attempts at killing me!”

“Batgirl!” Tim scolded as he punched a goon in the nose.

“What?” she asked genuinely confused.

“Do you have to? Like really?”

“Double R I have absolutely zero clue about what you’re talking about. So how about we work out whatever it is after the fight and not during? Kay? Kay.”

Tim just growled and started taking the thugs down faster and fiercer. Soon enough they had Riddler cuffed too and the GCPD was on its way.

“What was that about?” Steph asked as they stood on the roof of the neighboring warehouse, watching the cops stream into the building.

“Just, the death jokes. I dunno. They’re not exactly good taste?” Tim muttered, not wanting to meet Steph’s gaze.

“Dude. Seriously? Dead Robins Club bro. If we can’t make fun of it what can we do? S’not like we can go to therapy or something.”

Tim grimaced, he knew that but that didn’t mean it made him any less uncomfortable. “Just… Never mind. Forget I brought it up. I’m sorry.”

Steph gave him a weird look but her comms beeped and she put a hand to her cowl. “What’s up O?” She turned and began running toward the edge of the rooftop, off to whatever emergency Gotham was offering up now. At least it ended that awkward conversation.

It was the weekend before Halloween and Tim found himself in Smallville. Kon had been asked to take Jon trick-or-treating before going to Titans Tower and he had invited Tim to come with them. Which Tim soon learned meant that Kon needed his help in throwing together a last-minute costume to go out with Jon in.

Tim was laying on top of the worn quilt on Kon’s bed, staring up at the glow in the dark stars stuck to the ceiling while his friend googled quick costume ideas and raided his closet.

“Why don’t you just go as Superboy? It’s not like anyone is gonna be able to know whether you’re really Superboy or not,” Tim suggested.

“Trust me, I pitched that idea. Both Ma and Lois vetoed it faster than Bart eats pizza.”

Tim hummed noncommittally and continued to stare at the ceiling. That was until he got a balled-up Superboy t-shirt to the face. “Ow,” he said, sitting up.

“Use that giant brain of yours and help,” Kon said, gesturing around the small room. “What’re you being anyway?”

Tim held up the t-shirt that had just pelted him. “If you won’t be Superboy than I will.”

“Hardy har har. You wouldn’t let me wear your Red Robin suit?” Kon ventured.

Tim raised a single eyebrow. “A) you already know the answer to that. B) you’re a good four inches taller than me! You’d never fit and you know it.”

“Worth a shot.” Kon shrugged. “What about a zombie? I can rip up some clothes and put some fake blood on and I really am already a zombie so I could just walk around in my normal clothes… Tim? You ok?”

As Kon was talking Tim’s lips had smooshed togethering into an increasingly straightening line as his brows inched closer to each other. He was only half processing Kon’s words and was just staring at his friend without realizing that the other boy had stopped speaking. Kon waved his hand in front of Tim’s face and with that Tim exploded.

“Do you have to joke about that? I mean, ok you died and it sucked but like you’re not the only one and guess what. You came back! Which is a heck of a lot more than some people can say. And while you were dead how do you think everyone else was taking it? Cause let me tell you it sucks. Sucks! When your best friend dies and then your other best friend dies and then your ex-girlfriend and your mom and dad and step-mom and then your adoptive dad and your crabass little brother and the only reason you’re a part of the family in the first place is cause your older brother was brutally murdered but y’know he’s better now. Oh! And your sister at one point died and was resurrected and didn’t really see the point in bringing it up until like a year later? So yeah. It sucks. It’s a ‘coping mechanism’ or whatever but for the rest of us it’s just not funny.”

Tim had been pacing the room, arms flailing as he spoke. But now he collapsed back on Kon’s bed, breathing heavy as he tried to calm down.

Kon had flattened himself against the wall as he let Tim rant, eyes wide the entire time. “That- that was a lot man. Do you wanna talk about it?”

Tim let out a stuttering breath. “I think I’m good now.”

“That was a lot of pent up rage… How long has this been bothering you?”

“A while now? Just, all month it’s been really bad,” Tim shrugged. He looked down at his hands and felt Kon sit on the bed next to him before looping an arm over his shoulders.

“Well I promise to make a conscious effort to not crack undead jokes from now on and I’ll mention something to Bart. Deal?” Kon asked.

“Deal.”

“Good. Now help me with a costume or I am wearing your suit.” Kon grinned.

“Absolutely not!” Tim told him before holding up a flannel shirt. “Here, be a hipster.” That earned him another t-shirt to the face.