#a haunted house!! a picket fence!! what if home is haunted!! what if its the best place for you!! what if you’re the savior of the home!!

[bunnyyamor]

° 𐐪𐑂 ♡ haunted house | HAPPY HALLOWEEN COLLAB

you go ghost hunting at an abandoned house. you want to catch it on footage a real ghost for your youtube channel. what you didn't know was that there was a ghost, lurking, ready to make any woman succumb to needy lust

ghost! mahito x f!reader ୨୧ ꒰ nsfw...mdni ꒱ spectrophilia, cream pie, money shot, non-con, small blood kink, tiny knife play, pet-names (such as human, little one, baby, good girl), spanking

pls comment + like + reblog; i would rlly appreciate it (๑˘︶˘๑)

“are you rolling?” you fixed your hair, rearranging your microphone on your sweater to be propped up to receive the best audio. 

“yeah, we’re good,” your assistant put her thumbs up.

“hello crew! today it is the spooky halloween night. everyone is out trick or treating or enjoying scary parties, maybe even staying home, feet propped up with cozy black cat socks on and some pumpkin spiced coffee as they watch hocus pocus. either way, tonights the night. you lot voted! it’s the scary, haunted house! tonight we are going, ghost hunting! that's right, you’ll see an actual real life ghost tonight!” you moved to the left in order to get the house in the shot. it was abandoned, made entierely out of wood. it seemed ancient with all the new houses being built over a street away. it was dark, the wood seeming black even in the night air. it was run down, wet mold growing on the outside. it was two stories, with a porch in the front. in maybe another world this would of been the perfect picket-white fence house, now it was used as an attraction. it was used to showcase the worlds daredevils to see who would have enough bravery to enter its four walls. “me and my assistant are going to get footage of the whole thing! it doesn’t matter what happens.” you howled, really trying to dive into the scary factor of the whole idea of halloween. “but, let’s not keep waiting. let’s go!”

you ushered the camera to come closer to you. “wait, y/n. you think this is a good idea?” your assistant looked around the property. you could tell she was afraid.

“we’re not really gonna meet ghosts. i just want the viewers to think so. i don’t believe in ghosts anyways. we’re going to be fine! it’ll be quick, easy footage. some fake loud bangs and reactions and people will believe anything.”

you both walked up the porch and knocked. “you never know, there could be a drunk inside.” as you waited at the door, no one opened. so you two showed yourself in. “well folks, it smells terrible in here. and it’s extremely cold.”

“y/n, look.” your assistant pointed the camera at the wall. coverieng the wall was old paintings.

“it’s insane they didn’t get ruin by nature.” you gasped as you ran your fingers over the faded, dusty pieces of art. one was a carriage riding in the snow with horses attached to it, the other looked like a canoe or some type of boat in the lake with women inside enjoying a nice day out. there was a painting of this same house, when it was in pristine condition. “get a load of this shot here. look how beautiful this house used to be, what a shame.” your eyes peered over to the biggest painting out of the others. it was a man, dressed in an old fashioned suit, very vintage. he had blue hair, long that was in two loose ponytails. his face looked sad, unhappy. maybe lost. “poor guy. maybe he looks like this cause he got all those scars all over his face.”

“could this perhaps be the old owner of the house?” your assistant pointed out.

you tapped your lip in thought, “you know, you could be right. folks, i read about the old owner of this house. his name was mahito. people said about him that he was a man with a few loose screws in his head. he had his own beliefs about life and society and that he was a man that would let his opinions be heard. i don’t think the town really liked him nor if he was a good guy. either way, thank you for letting us in your house.” you joked as you waved to the painting. “let’s get a move on shall we.”

you showed the viewers the kitchen and the living room. each room had a history and a story. it was almost unbelievable to you that someone used to live here and that many years ago. “people speculate that his death was caused by a murder,” you widened your eyes for the dramatic effect. “maybe his spirit still lives here. waiting in revenge.”

“don’t joke about that stuff,” your assistant pouted.

you loved the creepiness. this was what your whole channel was about. you wanted to show people the mysterious, the unknown so you followed up on folklores. yeti, big foot, the lockness monster, all stories passed down from generations to generations. this year was ghosts. maybe they weren’t real, maybe they were, either way this was the perfect place to find out.

finally, you were in the bedroom of mahito. it looked collected, almost clean. like no had ever touched it after him. “that seems so unlikely that this place wasn’t touched! there had to be some looters or druggies that came in here. the door was unlocked. they must of wanted to steal everything here.”

the bedroom was huge. it had a glorious, chivalry bed in the middle of the room and most things were covered in gold. you could tell mahito had good taste.

“i think we should leave. i’m starting to get a bad feeling.”

you waved off your assistant, “we’re fine. now i’ll make a banging noise with my feet, alright. it’ll sound like a ghost and then i’ll pretend to be scared. good? okay, action.” you stomped your feet and jerked around back and forth. “did you hear that friends? it sounded like a-”

then another stomp and a loud bang. it sounded like something or someone fell. “-ghost,” you finished your sentance with a gulp.

“y/n, was that you?” your friend shook.

“...no…” you were quiet. again the sound! it was a bump, then footsteps.

“that’s it, i’m done.” your assistant propped the camera on the wooden desk nearby. “i am not risking it.”

“m-maybe it’s an animal. yeah. stop being afraid, it’s probably nothing.”

“i don’t care. i don’t like it here. i’m going. you can call an uber. i quit.” your assistant spat, running down the stairs.

“yeah, whatever! i didn’t need you. i can take videos myself!” you shouted.

there were no more noises but you picked up your camera, aiming at the closet. “let’s see what mahito’s clothing looked like in that time.” you opened up the door and what stood there made you jump and scream! “it’s a ghost!”

there, eyes directly baring into your soul, was the ghost of mahito. he had a scowl on his face and his eyes glared at you.”i never allowed you into my house.”

“g-g-g-g-g,” you dropped your camera as you fell onto the floor. scooting backwards until your back hit the bed.

“g-g-g-g-g-what? spit it out.” mahito walked out of the closet, hands crossed.

“ghost!” you pointed to him.

“you humans annoy me. what are you doing in my house?”

you stayed quiet, shocked that this was happening.

mahito tapped his foot then retrieved a long,silver knife from his closet. “better start talking or else.”

“i was doing a video. for my youtube channel. i didn’t know you were here.”

“you didn’t think ghosts were real?” he gave a sliverying smile, almost snake like. “well, my dear, we really are real. i’m as real as you are.”

“y-you scare me,” you shook, hands hugging yourself.

mahito flew to your ear, whispering, “good. you should be scared of me.”

you finally found the courage to stand up. as you did, you hastily ran to the door. you needed to escape.

mahito threw his knife at the door, close to your head, “not so fast human. i didn’t say you could leave. try that agian and i’ll slit your throat from one ear to the other. understand.” mahito laughed. he held his belly because he laughed so much, “you should see your face right now. all the color drained! even your lips quivering.” he stepped in front of you and held your chin. he was cold, ice cold and felt almost like a feather on you. was this how it felt being touched by a ghost? his lips landed on yours. moving quickly and biting your lip. he would have proceeded had you not pushed him away. “get off me!”

“i can feel your heart. turns out, you don’t really have one when you’re a ghost. i wonder how it feels again to have blood pumping through your veins and keeping your heart alive. it must feel warm and covered like a blanket.”

“i don’t know what you want, but you better stay back.” you saw beside your head the knife and pulled it out of the door. you swung at him. “i’m warning you.”

“oh no! the girl’s got a knife,” he feined crying. “whatever am i to do.” he stopped and walked into the knife, it not puncturing him at all. in fact, the knife went through him. “i’m a ghost baby, remember.” he grabbed the back of your head and forced you onto the floor.

“stop!” you kicked your legs. “what do you want from me?”

“how bout this? if you let me do whatever i want to you, i’ll let you live. if you don’t i will kill you here right now and haunt all your friends for eternity. understand?”

he was right. you were shaking. your hands were clenched and your heart was beating uncontrollably. but you had to weigh out your options.

“alright, you can do whatever you want to me.”

“good girl,” he patted your head. “smart at last. well first i want you naked and perfectly seated on my bed.”

your breath quivered and you gulped. you must listen. you hesitantly started with your sweater then your jeans, leaving you in your bra and panties. “my, my, my, you really are beautiful, aren’t you, y/n.”

“how do you know my name?” you looked up at him.

he wrapped his hand around your throat, putting pressure there. his eyes fixated on the way your neck looked. “i heard you and your little friend. she’s smart. if i let you live then you can tell her she was right and you were wrong.”

you breathing was being shortened from his strength around your neck. his grip tightening every second. “now, i want you out of that.” he eyed your bra and panties.

“yes, sir.” you took them off, feeling embarrassed. yes he was dead and a ghost but for some reason you still were flustered. “is-is this better?” you looked away. face heating up.

he chuckled darkly, “such a good girl.” his head dipped down and kissed you. his pastel blue hair cascaded over your face. your eyebrows twisted and your hands pressed against his chest, clutching his fabric there. “mmmm,” you moaned as his tongue came out and swiped your lower lip, then intruding into your mouth, not asking, just taking. his tongue almost felt snake like. it slithering inside yours, curling and twirling.

“i haven’t been intimate with a woman in years. i too have needs. and you are going to make me feel good.” he said between kisses. his hands held onto the back of your neck, deepening the kiss. his fingers ghosted over your nipples. “so hard? if you’re so afraid then why are you so turned on, human?”

“fuck,” you moaned as you arched your back, trying to close the gap between you and him. it was your body, it was going against you.

“i want you, little one, to make me feel good. if you can make me cum, i’ll let you leave.”

your mouth was opened wide in shock. how were you supposed to do that? you felt so useless. “yes mahito.”

mahito sat on the floor and you joined him. you helped him take his shirt off and then his trousers. your eyes didn’t leave his chest. he was very well formed. his muscles protruding and his pink nipples already hard. he even had abs, trailing down to his hair above his cock which was also the grayish-blue. you took his cock and started to move your hands up and down, wanting him to feel your fingers around him. your finger nails lightly scratched the skin there. you were surprised to see it twitch a little. he moved his head back, eyes closed as he controlled his breathing. you circled his dick, making a ring with your tiny hands as you picked up the pace.

you felt powerful to have a ghost’s dick in your hand. he was enjoying himself and getting turned on.

you maneuvered his cock so that it rubbed against your cunt.

“oooh, that feels good.” mahito smiled wide. loving how you grabbed his cock and started grinding on it. the side of his dick rubbed against your clit. it was making you wet too.

“shit, fuck,” you groaned as all his veins and grooves hit your clit perfectly. the friction making you hot and a knowing feeling in the pit of your stomach. you could tell mahito was about to cum with the way his cock twitched and was swollen.

curiosity got the better of you. you had always wanted ot know what it was like to fuck a ghost. you took charge and laid mahito back and climbed on his hard dick.

“just like that, sink onto me human. i want you to fuck me so good. i haven’t been inside a cunt for years.” he heaved, eyes rolling in the back of his head.

“fuck me,” you felt impaled by his thick dick. it wasn’t long but its girth was wide. he stretched you out completely. your hands rested on his pecs and you started hopping on his cock. your boobs slapped and bounced with each move. you were riding him. loving how your weight causes him to go even deeper inside you. “that’s it, right there. all hot for me. fucking a ghost. better tell your friend or maybe your viewers how it felt to have a ghost inside you.”

“i feel so full, mahito.” you shuddered. he still felt cold to the touch. perhaps your heat could warm him up. mahito’s big hands grabbed the globes of your ass, squeezing your flesh there and slapping it, urging you to ride faster. “that’s it. ride me, human. ride me faster.” he massaged your ass, dragging you against his cock. his hands left your ass and traveled up to your neck. he squeezed tight. your vision became hazy from the breath reaching you, but you still kept fucking him. your clit was hitting deliciously on his dick. you loved how swollen he was inside you. his face contorted into a look of pure bliss. his lips were plump and swollen from his constant lip biting. you added more to that as you bent over and bit his lip. for some reason you didn’t want this but now your body needed it. it craved it. he hit your spot, over and over. you loved how it felt that he was about to split you in two with how big he was. still you kept gaining height then fell down to take him fully in, all the way to the hilt. you did that repeatedly and noticed cream on his cock, was that yours or his? you could smell sex in the air and could smell him, it was sweet almost, this was ghost cum?

mahito grabbed onto your hair, messing it up as he pulled and tugged it slightly. “that’s it. fuck me. fuck.” he couldn’t find the words. you loved bouncing on his dick, loved the face he made. “ahh, mahito. i don’t know if i can take any more.” you winced.

mahito wanted to finish, he had to. again he grabbed your neck and started annihilating you. with his ghostly strength he started pounding inside you from underneath. your mouth was in a wide o as your screams were silent. nobody has ever fucked you like this before.

“that’s it. that’s it. fuckin take it like a good little human. you know you like that.” he growled in your ear as he held your ass cheeks apart as he would exit and entere you. his cock bobbing up, making his balls slapp your cunt. it jumped up and would hit you. you coated it with your juices.

“fuck i think i’m gonna,” you cried. feeling the rise of it all.

“cum. yes, cum on my cock,” mahito urged you, snarling through his teeth. you moaned as you came. circling his cock and crying. mahito clenched your throat and groaned, feeling you contract around him. “that’s it. keep doing that. fuck.” mahito just continued inside you till you felt him about to cum. he exited and started jerking off. non-stop moaning as he cummed all over your chest and stomach. it was so much and so white. it got all over you. it was sticky and thick but still cool to the touch. that’s what was different about him.

“congrats little one. you get to live. but i’m not done with you yet.” mahito licked his lips. you were still trying to catch your breath when something caught your attention. it was the camera. this whole time it was staring directly at you and mahito and it was still recording.

“so, do you finally believe in ghosts?” mahito smirked.

your eyes shot up as you giggled sheepishly, “you heard that?

angel’s little words - i thought about this idea a while back during summer & rlly wanted to do this during halloween. and then i saw @blueparadis and @munsonsins do their collab & i thought it would be perfect! so ty for letting me enter! also isn’t our assistant so smart ＼(≧▽≦)／she left in the nick of time. i hope u liked this tho i get nervous posting different stuff esp since it’s mahito hehe

[banschivs]

⧖.* 𝚃𝙷𝙴 𝙳𝙴𝙶𝚁𝙰𝚅𝙴𝚂 𝙷𝙾𝙼𝙴 𝙺𝙴𝙴𝙿𝚂𝙰𝙺𝙴𝚂.

The original Degraves family home in the suburbs outside of Gotham is the quintessential picket fence dream. While he had his family Grant made enough to buy a place big enough to grow into, should he and Irene come to want more children. As it happened they were happy as they were —and, like her daughter, Irene didn't find pregnancy to be a picnic—, but they also never really got the chance to finalise that decision.

Grant now lives mostly out of an apartment in the city near GCPD Headquarters, though if he has his grandchildren, it's likely that he stays with them at the original family home. It's not as much as a haunted house or mausoleum as the locals would have you believe, even if it isn't permanently lived-in anymore.

It does stand, however, as something of a shrine to the Degraves' old lives, or the life that should have been before Riktor elected to literally blew it up. Only one room is off-limits now that Grant has the children stay, and that's he and Irene's bedroom. He himself sleeps in the spare.

Arthur and Nix's children very much have their father's gentle nature, even if they have their mother's feisty curiosity. This means that things, even treasured heirlooms are safe with the kids in the house. Safe from breakages, that is. Both Evelyn and Lilac tend to have sticky fingers, particularly when it comes to anything in Nix's old bedroom, in which they sleep whenever they stay with Grant. Their little brother sleeps in what was his uncle Wilder's old room. Both are decked out for children still, since Grant never moved a single thing after the car bomb.

First to find its way home to the Fleck house was one of Nix's old beanie babies. The black cat is now proudly owned by the two girls. Several other objects have gone 'missing' from the Degraves family home, mostly from Nix's childhood bedroom, but not solely so.

Arthur, too, has taken up the habit of nabbing little things here and there. One of his earliest interactions with his father-in-law ended with him taking several of Nix's baby photos for himself, and most recently he brought a children's book of Irene's home. To this day the Fleck's are still plucking little pieces of the Degraves history as keepsakes, or indeed hopeful reminders for Nix, whose memory of her old life is almost entirely blank.

The objects, including a photograph of herself and Wilder on her seventh birthday which she still cannot look at, provide little flashes for her, and jog some otherwise stubborn memories out of their hiding places. It isn't solely for the klepto thrill of stealing that her family members claim little pieces for their own. It's for connection, and to bring her little pieces of her life she otherwise lost entirely. Nix's whole personhood is built on grief, and a more than clouded memory due to PTSD and other piled traumas. Her family, even down to the toddlers, are trying to help her see through those clouds, even if it's only for a second.

It hurts her, yes, and sometimes doesn't even work at all, but she treasures these little things, each in their own way. They're a broader look at life for her, and added depth to a personhood she otherwise doesn't have at all. And nothing is ever actually stolen anyway. Grant knows exactly where each thing is, and why they're where they are... arguably they're back in their rightful place. It comforts him in many ways, too.

[mysteriouslover1516]

Remember Us Together? (Part 4)

(2 years after their first meeting)

Jake’s eyes burned as he continually stared at the bright screen of his computer, fingers typing incessantly upon the keyboard. Glancing at the time in the left hand corner of his screen, he sighed as he read 3:42am. He had tried to sleep, really he did, but insomnia still haunted him. It wouldn’t hurt just to rest his eyes for a bit, lay in his bed, let his mind wander for a while, right? Afterall, then he could be near MC. Quickly prompted to action by the last thought, he hurriedly shut his computer down into sleep mode, making his way out of his study. As bare feet padded across the cold hardwood floor, his blue eyes turned to the numerous photos that were hanging on the hall walls. Noting that the bedroom door was shut, he flicked the switch on and light flooded the hallway. After squinting until his eyes adjusted to the brightness, his attention returned to the framed pictures. Jake’s lips pulled into a small smirk as the picture of him and MC sprawled out in the snow smiled back at him.

“You’re gonna catch a cold, MC.” Jake shook his head at his girlfriend’s antics as she threw a handful of the powdered snow into the air, watching it gently shower back down on her face. “We should leave before you get hypothermia.”

“But we just got here,” MC whined. “Isn’t it simply beautiful?”

“Very,” the young hacker said, heart starting to melt at the sight of her happiness.

MC rolled her eyes, a faint blush coating her cheeks. “I meant the snow, you dork.”

“Oh that?” Jake smirked, “It’s okay.”

“Have you ever made a snow angel?” MC questioned, a mischievous look on her face.

“Maybe once in my life?” He raised an eyebrow.

Without warning MC pushed the hacker into the snow, but he quickly reached up and grabbed her coat, pulling her down with him. “This wasn’t quite what I had planned,” MC blushed at the closeness.

“I don’t mind,” Jake shrugged as his arm found its place around her waist.

“Yeah?”

Jake suddenly sputtered as a pile of snow hit his face, “MC!”

MC giggled as she tried to jump to her feet, but he yanked her back down. “What is it, Jake?”

“You’re going to be the death of me.” He shook his head.

“Better than hypothermia though, right?” MC asked with a shy smile.

“Maybe,” a grin appeared on Jake’s lips as he leaned down and kissed her. “Just slightly.”

Dan and Jessy had just then appeared in the park, causing the redhead to whip her phone out. Jessy had actually done it, she had managed to catch a picture of Jake grinning, but in his defense he couldn’t help it when MC’s contagious smile was by his side.

Jake’s eyes shifted to the next picture that showed MC and him gazing at their first house together, his arm around her shoulder, backs facing the camera. This was the house they were in now, the house that was adorned by these beautiful frozen memories, their forever home.

“Did we do the right thing?” MC asked as she looked at the small house in front of them. The white picket fence surrounded the couple, the light blue-colored house silently inviting them in.

“Yes,” Jake nodded. “It’s perfect.”

“You really want to do this?”

“Do I really want a future with you, a life by your side? I’m hoping that’s a rhetorical question, MC.” Jake locked eyes with her.

“Promise me you won’t ever regret it,” MC’s eyes filled with tears. “Cause I don’t want to live without you, Jake.”

“Don’t cry, please.” The hacker gently brushed his thumbs across her cheeks, wiping away the tears. “Trust me, I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

A smile formed on MC’s lips, then she leaned upwards and their lips met, him kissing her back.

Jake couldn’t help but shake his head, why on earth would he regret living the rest of his life with her? She was the best thing that had ever happened to him, a true blessing in a world laced with darkness. She was the one who comforted him when nightmares racked his body, the one who patiently listened as he ranted for hours on end about computer programs not working. She was the one who traced over the numerous scars that dotted his upper body, the one who could calm his nerves and insecurities whenever she was by his side. How was it possible that he had got to be this lucky, this blessed?

More memories replayed in his head as his gaze kept shifting to other photos, finally he turned off the light. Why was he reminiscing over the past when he could actually be next to her in the present? He gingerly pushed against the door, hinges squeaking softly as it swung open. Moonlight poured in through the half-open shades, casting a glow on the bed. MC lay peacefully on the bed, her hair sprawled across the pillow. Her body was facing Jake’s side of the bed, one arm reaching out as if an attempt to find him in her sleep. The covers had pooled at her waist, revealing how she sported one of his hoodies as her nightshirt. As he neared the bed, he could hear the quiet and adorable snores escaping her, causing his heart to melt. Even like this, her hair all tangled, lips slightly chapped, eyes closed, she was still stunning. He eased himself into the bed and gently pulled her to his chest as he laid down.

“Jake?” MC mumbled as a yawn escaped her lips, eyes remaining closed.

“I’m sorry,” he apologized. “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

“It’s okay,” MC smiled. “I don’t mind waking up like this.”

“I was looking at the photos on our walls,” Jake whispered.

MC opened her eyes, the soft gleam of moonlight causing them to shine. “Yeah?”

“I want to make more memories with you, MC.” Jake said.

“Me too,” MC smiled shyly. “You’re rather sentimental when you’re tired, aren’t you?”

“More like whenever I’m around you. I just can’t help it.”

“What time is it?” MC asked as she shuffled around in the bed, resting her head on his chest.

Jake turned his head to look at the alarm clock sitting on the nightstand, “Almost 4:15.”

“What do you say we sleep a little longer, then make some coffee, and watch the sunrise?”

“Sounds like a wonderful idea.” Jake’s hand found its way into her hair, gently brushing at the strands. “I love you, MC.”

“Me too,” MC giggled as she closed her eyes again. “But about you.”

Jake smirked as he closed his eyes, listening to the calming rise and fall of her breath, noting when it slowed and steadied, signaling she had fallen back asleep. His hand continued to brush through her hair, a peaceful feeling taking over his senses as he placed a soft kiss on the top of her head. He was happy, truly happy, and MC was the one to thank. The sun had finally shown up in his life, the dark clouds overhead leaving in its wake. His life was perfect, because in his eyes so was MC. With that final thought in his head, he finally drifted off to sleep, reveling in the love he now had in his life.

Hey lovelies! ;) Thank you so much for reading and supporting me on this little oneshot journey. Don't worry, many more Jake x MC stories are to come, but I think this is the end of the "Remember Us Together" series. I hope you all like the ending, please leave your likes and reviews in the comments! It always means so much to me to hear from you, it means it's actually worth my time to post. Love you all!

[im-an-anxious-wreck]

My Name Is Logan Sanders-Miller

AO3 link

Summary: Pictures and the occasional story from his mother. That's all Logan had ever had of his father. Just one little photo album, and painful memories confessed to him in the dark, it wasn't much, but it meant everything to him.

His father hadn't wanted Logan. His mother had said that he took one look at Logan and left. Had there really been something so off putting about him that one glance was all it took to drive his father away?

Logan hadn't even done anything. All it took to make his father leave was just him existing apparently.

So, why the hell was he standing outside Sanders' house? Was he seriously going to ask his father why he didn't want Logan? Was he trying to prove himself to Patton, that he really was good enough and that Patton had missed out? Or maybe prove to himself that his father was shitty and that's why he didn't want Logan…

In any matter, Logan wasn't going to turn back now. This was it.

Knock knock

Warnings: cursing, past alcoholism, like five f-words (probably a new record for the minimum in my fics /j)

Universe: a human au

Perspective/main character: Logan

Side/secondary characters: Patton, Janus

Appear: Remus, Roman, Virgil, female oc (Logan's mother), Thomas

Mentioned: Emile Picani

Romantic relationship: established Moceit

Platonic relationships: Logan & everyone

Word Count: 9,277

Link to my collection of TSS fanworks

This is for the @sandersidesbigbang's event

Find the adorable artwork by @badkatart here and the really cute art by @thecrowslullaby here!

Thanks @aplacesofaraway for beta reading!

-

Logan knew he didn't want him, he'd known since he was a little child when he'd asked his mother why he didn't have a father like most of the other children. Logan had been devastated to find out that his father hadn't wanted him, but the question of why… that had haunted him.

Why didn't he want Logan? His mother had said that he took one look at Logan and left. Had there really been something so off putting about him that one glance was all it took to drive his father away?

Had it been Logan's blue eyes? Doubtful since he'd gotten those from his father. Was it his dark hair? It's true that neither of his parents had hair as dark as his, instead, he got his dark locks from his maternal grandmother, but surely it couldn't have been because of such a superficial reason as that.

Logan hadn't even done anything. All it took to make his father leave was just him existing, apparently.

But why? What were his exact thoughts when he left?

There was only one way Logan would be able to know, and that was to ask his father himself.

Logan sighed, mentally shaking himself as he looked up to the house he was now standing in front of.

It was a rather nice house, Logan couldn't help but think, with its blue panel siding and white trim. It was on the large side, had two stories, and yellow shutters. The multicoloured flowers were well tended to and the spacious yard was surrounded by a white picket fence. It looked like the perfect family home.

Logan took a deep breath and opened the wide gate. Closing it behind himself, he walked up the path to the white door.

He clutched the small photo album closer to his chest with his left hand and, curling his right, he raised his fist to knock. It just floated above the wood. He took another deep breath but still hesitated.

Was this it?

Logan quickly knocked twice before he could figuratively get cold feet.

Was he actually about to meet his—

The door swung open before Logan could finish the thought. A man dressed in mostly black, and a bit overdressed for a gentle spring day such as this one with his bowler hat, yellow gloves, and caplet, answered the door.

"Yes?"

Logan opened his mouth to answer but shut it again when no sound came out.

The tall man stared at Logan expectedly, dark brown and light brown —almost yellow— eyes seeming to look into Logan's very core. Which was ridiculous, that wasn't even scientifically possible.

The man looked at Logan for another moment before raising an eyebrow.

"Well? You've been staring at my house for a few minutes now. Can I help you with something, child?"

Logan blinked a few times before his brain finally caught up. "Ah, yes, actually, I believe you can." He pushed his glasses farther up his nose. "I'm looking for… Patton Sanders?"

The man's eyebrow only raised farther at that. "And may I ask why you are looking for him?"

Logan was now hugging the album with both arms. "Ah, so you do know him, which means I have the correct address. Excellent. And yes, you may ask that."

The man continued to stare at Logan —was this going to be a recurring thing?— before sighing softly. "Why are you looking for Patton?"

"Well… I have some… information I would like to—"

Another man, whose face Logan had all but memorized from the album, appeared behind the first man's shoulder.

"Who's at the door, honey?" Patton asked the first man.

"I don't know, the kid's looking for you though."

Patton turned to Logan. "Oh, hello! Can I help you with something, kiddo?"

"Um…" Logan cleared his throat. "I hope so. I have some informa—"

"Papa!" A boy about seven ran up to Patton before announcing, "Remus bit me!"

The first man sighed. "I'll take care of it," He said to Patton before calling into the house, "Remus? Why'd you bite your brother?" He led the boy back into the house where Logan could hear Remus arguing farther into the house.

"Sorry about that. Now, what were you saying, kiddo?"

"Well, my mother is Cindy M—"

A teenager came up behind Patton, his purple hair almost completely covering his eyes. "Yo, Pat, why's the Wi-fi not working?" He tapped something on his phone and frowned.

Patton sent an apologetic look to Logan as he told the teen, "I don't know. Ask your dad, sweetie."

"Okay." He looked up from his phone. "Oh, shit, did I interrupt? Sorry."

"Virgil, lang—"

The teen, Virgil, raised an eyebrow and Logan could really see the resemblance between him and the first man who'd answered the door.

Patton sighed. "I know, I know. I— you're alright, maybe see if your dad needs help with the twins though?"

Virgil glanced at Logan again before nodding. "Yeah, alright. I can ask him about the Wi-fi after we get the twins to stop fighting then." He gave a two-fingered salute before disappearing back into the house.

"I'm so sorry about that, but that's everyone so hopefully we won't get interrupted again. What was that about your mom?"

He didn't belong here. There was no way Logan belonged here with this warm, emotional family. They were obviously tight-knit and it's not like Logan was particularly special or useful. And what did he even expect to find? For this man, his… his… for Patton to welcome Logan with open arms?

If he didn't want Logan as a baby, then why would he ever want him now? Especially after seeing how boring, awkward, and socially inept he was.

What a fool Logan had been.

"Uh… kiddo? Are you selling something? ...You don't have to be nervous. Just tell me your spiel… Do kids these days even know what a spiel is?"

Logan went to take a breath but realised he couldn't, which only made it harder to breathe as he panicked.

"Woah, it's alright! Just take a deep breath. You're okay, just take your time."

Logan did his best to do what Patton instructed, even if only to not waste any more of his time.

"Apologies for the inconvenience, I shall be on my— um, my way now."

"You don't have to leave! You haven't even told me your name or why you were looking for me."

"Er, well… my name is Logan."

"Aww, Logan, what a nice name. That's what I would've named a kid if I'd have gotten to name one."

"I— wait, really?"

"Yes, really!" Patton smiled softly. "So, what was that about your mom… I think you said her name was Cin…dy. Um, s— Cindy who?"

"Cindy Ann Miller."

"Oh… and your name is…"

"Logan Sanders-Miller."

"Oh. Oh, geez."

Logan took a few steps back as Patton stepped out onto the porch. Patton shut the door behind himself and sat down on a white bench.

"So you're… Cindy's your mom?"

"She is my biological mother, yes."

"Wow, I— I almost can't believe she even remembered what my favourite baby name was. It's been… wait, how old are you?"

"Twelve, sir."

"You don't need to call me sir. I mean, you're my… my…” He paused. "Why now though? Why didn't she just— why now?"

Logan blinked in surprise. "Did she not tell you of my existence?"

"No, she didn't. I— I would've been in your life if she had. I promise, Logan."

"Oh, I didn't know that she never… she'd said that you… that you didn't want me."

Tears welled up in Patton's eyes, making guilt stab at Logan's chest.

"That couldn't be further from the truth, Logan. It's true that I most likely wasn't ready for parenthood at that time, but I would've learned. I would've learned from, but also for you. I would've been there for you."

"I… I see. That's…"

Patton wiped his eyes and Logan was once again reminded of how out-of-place he was.

"Should I go?"

Patton looked up in surprise. "What? I— no! I mean, if you have anywhere you need to be, then of course. But…" Patton let out a weird laugh. "Sorry, I'm sure I look a mess right now. It's just… a lot to process. Um… oh, does Cindy know you're here?"

"Yes, she found and gave me your address."

"Okay… yeah, okay. That's good." Patton wiped away the last few tears. "Well, that wasn't a very polite welcome on my part!" Patton attempted to joke. He didn't succeed.

"It was adequate in my opinion. You have been far kinder than necessary and asked why I —seemingly randomly— showed up on your doorstep. You could have told me to leave at any point but you didn't, instead, you listened to everything I had to say."

"Aw, thanks, Logan, but that's really the least I could do. I've… geez, I've missed so much. I really do want to be there for you though, I want to get to know you. As long as that's alright with you and your mom of course."

"I… I believe so. She did give me your address and said I could visit if I wanted to."

"I'm not really sure how to put this, but… do you still want to?" Patton looked at Logan with hesitation and… hope?

"Yes, I still want to."

The reaction was immediate, Patton's face figuratively lighting up. "That's great. I… I really am gonna try, Logan. I promise."

"...You want to try?"

"Yes, I do."

"Oh… well… then I shall try as well."

Patton smiled gently at Logan. "Alright. Sounds good— better than good, in fact!"

"Better than good," Logan echoed.

"Hey, it's a Saturday so I know you won't have school, would you like to come inside and meet everyone?"

"Oh…"

"You don't have to, of course! I don't wanna overwhelm you after all. Just giving you the option."

"Ah, well, if it's alright, perhaps some other time? …If there is another time."

"That's just fine! And of course there'll be another ti— I mean, if you want there to be another time. Sorry, I guess I didn't even consider that you might not… I mean, I completely understand if you resent me and decide at any point that you'd rather not see me anymore."

"Oh, that's… when I said 'if there is another time', I meant if you still wanted to meet again after today."

"Oh, I do as long as you do! Why wouldn't I?"

"Well, technically I can think of a few reasons, but mostly I just didn't want to assume. Not everyone wants a random child in their life."

"Yeah, I suppose, but that's not me." Patton huffed lightly. "If anything I love random children in my life, you're the fourth one so far! My husband, Janus, had a son long before we met, and we both adopted the twins a few years ago."

"Ah, I see. What's one more, then?"

"Exactly! …That didn't quite sound right. I'd still want you in my life even if I didn't have Virgil and my sons. I was just trying to say that I'm not new to children rather suddenly appearing."

"Oh…" Logan's chest twisted with some emotion that he couldn't quite place.

"And besides," Patton continued, "You're not just a random child, you're my random child!"

"But that doesn't— wait, was that a Kung Fu Panda reference?"

Logan couldn't help but feel amazed at how quickly Patton had accepted him. Sure, it might not last long if Logan messed it up —as he did with most things—, but still, Patton hadn't even known Logan for thirty minutes, and was already calling Logan his child.

"Sure was! The twins really like that movie so I know quite a lot of the dialogue."

"Ah, I see."

There was a small lull in the conversation before Patton changed the subject with, "So… would you want to go to the park?"

"...I'm twelve."

"Uh, okay… I don't see what— Oh, I didn't mean on the playground necessarily! There's a nice walking trail, plenty of benches, and even an ice cream stand."

"Mm, that sounds pleasant… I'm allergic to dairy though."

"Oh, sorry, kiddo. 'Fraid you get that from me."

Logan stared at Patton incredulously. "You were going to take me to an ice cream stand, despite being allergic to dairy yourself?"

"...Yes. I— I don't always make the best decisions when it comes to dairy, okay? I mean, my favourite food is mac 'n' cheese."

"You… that's unfortunate."

"Oh, definitely. I don't let it stop me though."

"I have only heard legends of people who eat the food they're allergic to."

"Legends?"

"I… thought it sounded cool. Apologies, I shall refrain from—"

"No, you're fine, Logan! I was just wondering what legends had people eating their allergy in it, that's all."

"Ah, none to my knowledge. The closest I can think of would be the Norse myth in which Balder had a dream that he was going to die, so his mother Frigg made all the plants, trees, and animals promise to never hurt Balder, but she forgot to ask mistletoe. The gods assumed that Balder was invincible and often used him as a target for knife-throwing and archery. One day they were all playing darts, and Loki, having learned from Frigg that Balder wasn't immune to mistletoe, made a dart from the plant and pretended to help guide the blind god Höd's hand. But under Loki's supposed assistance, Höd struck his brother, Balder, piercing his heart and killing him.

"Although Balder wasn't allergic to mistletoe in that case, it was just the only plant that could hurt him, and then Loki was being mischievous, which makes sense as he's the god of mischief." Logan paused, realising that he'd rambled on for longer than he'd intended. "Ah, apologies, that was a rather long story with very little relevance."

"You're fine! I enjoyed listening! It's been quite a while since I heard that story anyway, and I can see how your mind made the connection."

"Oh, okay… well, thank you for listening."

"Of course, Logan. Anytime."

Logan frowned a bit. "We got quite off topic."

Patton laughed. "So we did. But we can continue to get off topic together as we walk the park's walking trail if you want. The trail start is only a few blocks away."

"Alright… have you ever heard about the story where Thor dressed as Freyja to get Mjölnir back?"

"Ooh, that sounds vaguely familiar, but I don't remember most of it. Wanna tell it to me?"

Logan felt himself get even more excited. "Yes, I'd like that."

-

The day had gone so much better than Logan had expected, more than he'd ever dared to hope. Not only did Patton not hate him, but they'd spent most of the afternoon talking. Their conversation had been a bit awkward at times —as Logan's conversations with people other than his mother often were, albeit usually more awkward than it had been with Patton; at least Patton and Logan had some things in common—, but Logan was quite pleased with how the day had gone.

Logan had rather expected to be going home in tears, rather than a small smile he'd found on his face.

After he got home, Logan heated some leftovers for supper and finished the last of his math homework, quite glad that there weren't any bottles from the prior night to clean up —just a beer can that was already in the recycling—, and that his mother hadn't been too hungover to go and work.

Feeling a bit unsure what to do until his mother got home from her evening job, he watched some TV, his conversations with Patton still in the back of his mind.

He especially couldn't stop thinking about when Patton had said that he hadn't known that Logan existed, how his mother had said, on multiple occasions, that his father had taken one look at Logan and left, that he didn't want him.

But Patton did want Logan —or at least thought he did at the moment, he easily might not after getting to know Logan and seeing how worthless he was— and he hadn't known of Logan's existence… and since Logan was quite certain that Patton was telling the truth, that could only mean one thing: his mother had lied.

It meant that his mother had been lying to him for a frighteningly long amount of time.

What felt like both too soon and not soon enough, Logan's mother came home, looking tired as always.

After she grabbed something small to eat, she laid down on the couch, Logan hovering near one of the couch's arms.

"...I saw him today," Logan finally said.

His mother looked up at him. "Saw who? …Your father?"

"Yes, I met him, his husband, Janus, and briefly two out of three of their children. Although the eldest, Virgil, was Janus' son, I assume from a previous relationship, who didn't seem to consider Patton his father."

"Huh, I see. Did it go well?"

"It went… a lot better than expected." Logan felt himself begin to get a little mad. "Especially considering the fact that Patton didn't know of my existence and was actually really nice."

His mother winced. "Oh."

More anger rose in Logan. "Yes. 'Oh'. I— Why didn't you tell Patton that I existed? And why did you tell me that he knew and just didn't want me!?"

"I… don't know."

"Why didn't you just tell me?" Logan was aware that tears were streaming down his cheeks but he couldn't find it in him to wipe them away.

"Logan, sometimes people just… make mistakes. And sometimes they don't realise until it's too late to fix them, at least directly, so they just leave the mistake to fester and it just gets worse over time but they certainly don't want to deal with it now." She dropped her voice to a whisper. "It just got worse, and the longer I waited, the worse I knew it would make everyone feel. So, I just never said anything… not till I finally, finally just bit the bullet and found his address."

She finally stopped staring at the ceiling and looked over at Logan. "I fucked up. I know I did, and I know I should've done it a long time ago, but at least you have your dad now. I know it's my fault that you didn't for so, so long, but you do now. I'm… Logan, I'm really sick, and it took… it took almost dying to realise that I was just trying to keep you to myself, and that's really not fair to you. I'm… I'm so sorry I didn't let you two meet sooner, and it's okay if you don't forgive me for a while, or ever, but I'm trying to fix it now. I'm trying, Logan."

"I—" Logan scrubbed underneath his eyes. "I know, Mom. I know you're trying. It— it really hurt, it hurt not to have him, but you… you did the right thing, and now I do have him. Him and you. That's all I ever wanted…” He paused. "I don't think I can forgive you today… but soon. I just need some time."

Logan's mother smiled softly. "I know, and I understand."

"I'm… I'm glad to have you back, Mom. Yo— you weren't really there for quite a while."

"Yeah, I know, and I am so, so sorry. But I promise that I'm not going to drink again. Your… your dad found me on Facebook earlier while I was at work and we messaged each other, and God bless him, he's actually paying for me to go to therapy with his cousin, Dr. Picani. I'm…" She paused to dab at her eyes with her handkerchief. "I'm gonna get better. I'm gonna get out of this depressive funk and I'm going to fucking stop this stupid alcoholism.

"It's not going to be easy, or linear, but I'm going to do it. I will."

"I know you will. If anyone could do it, it'd be you."

"Thank you for always having my back, little Lo. I don't know what I'd do without you. I— come here, baby." She raised her frail arms up and Logan quickly ducked between them, the both of them wrapping their arms around the other.

After a few moments they pulled away, Logan still kneeling beside his mother. "I… he invited me to come back soon."

"I know."

"I… I want to see him again. I'd like to get to know Patton and his family more."

"Okay, you know I support you either way, baby, so if you want to see him— all of them, then you should spend more time with them."

Logan wasn't sure what to say, so he just asked, "Do you want to watch a movie?"

His mother smiled. "Only if we pop some popcorn."

-

Logan sighed as he looked at Patton and Janus' white door. The parallel between now and the first time that he'd met Patton was making him hesitate, which was only making the moment feel even more familiar.

Logan startled slightly as Janus opened the door.

Janus raised an eyebrow. "Well, now isn't this déjà vu?" He rhetorically asked, the sarcastic tone that his voice usually took ever-present, despite the statement itself holding no actual sarcasm.

"Ah, apologies, I was just…"

"Gathering yourself for a moment?"

"Yes."

"Hmm… well, come in."

"Thank you." Logan went inside and Janus shut the door behind them.

"Logan's here, love," Janus called across the living room and Patton looked up from what he was fixing in the kitchen to across the kitchen bar.

"Hi! You made it!" Patton waved.

A golden retriever mutt came up to Logan, sniffed his pant leg, and began wagging their tail at him, so he patted the dog on the head a few times.

"I did." Logan remembered what his mother had said years ago about how people liked to have their house complimented. "Um, I like how your house's common area is an open plan. It's very… spacious."

"Aww, thanks, Logan. I really like that about our house too." His eyebrows furrowed a bit. "Where's your mom?"

"Ah, yes, she sends her regards and apologies for being absent, but she had to cover for a co-worker at work. It was rather sudden so we didn't have proper time to forewarn you."

"Oh, okay. Well, that's fine! That's too bad that she couldn't come, but I'm glad you're here anyway."

Patton was very generous with his compliments, Logan noted, a bit unsure as to why Patton's praise made him feel so happy. Well, Logan had been idolizing him since he was young, so perhaps it was a bit more obvious than he'd originally thought. He'd been wishing for a father figure since he was little after all.

"And I am glad to be here."

"If you'll excuse me for a moment," Janus said, "I'll go let everyone know you're here."

Janus went upstairs and since Logan wasn't sure what to do, he petted the dog some more.

"Oh! That's Biscuit, by the way!"

"Ah, they're a very good dog."

"Isn't she!"

Janus came down the stairs only a minute later, the twins in tow.

"Oh! It's the Boy Scout!" The twin dressed in a prince costume exclaimed.

"No! He's a zombie," The other twin —his name was Remus, if Logan recalled correctly— tried to correct, pointing his finger at Logan, the black and green sparkly cuff bouncing as he did so.

Janus clicked his tongue. "Remus, what did I tell you about pointing at people?"

Remus sighed deeply. "Not to because it's rude."

"And what do you say, dear?"

"Sorry, Logan."

"It's alright."

"Oh, also maybe don't call people zombies," Janus added.

Logan couldn't help but think what an odd family they were.

"...Are you a zombie?" Remus asked.

"No, I'm not a zombie, or a Boy Scout for that matter."

"Aww," The little prince whined. "Then who are you?"

"Logan."

He snorted. "Okay, smart—"

"Ass!" Remus finished.

"Boys," Patton scolded. "Roman, don't let Remus take the fall for your curse word, and Remus, we don't curse in this house!"

"You said 'fuck' just yesterday, Papa. You know, when you accidentally spilled milk everywhere?"

Patton sighed. "Okay yes, I did. But I shouldn't've said that."

"Also you're an adult, which means that if you wanted to curse, you could," Janus added.

"Yeah," Remus agreed. "Like Virgil, although he's not an adult… wait, why is Virgil allowed to cuss and we're not? We're only like… nine years younger."

"Well, my age minimum for children cursing is lower than your Papa's, so we compromised, and if you don't swear loudly in public, you can curse when you turn fifteen."

"Aww, but that's so far away!"

"Yes, it is."

"Oh, speaking of Virgil, where is he?" Patton asked.

"Still upstairs. He said that he'd be down in a minute."

"Oh, okay!"

"...So who are you really?" Roman asked.

"And don't say 'Logan' again!" Remus added.

"...Logan Sanders-Miller."

"Aww. You did it again."

Janus sighed. "Don't you remember when I told you last night that Patton had a son who was coming over for dinner today?"

The twins shook their heads.

"Did you tell them while they were watching TV?" Patton asked.

"Yes— oh, I see what happened. I always forget that they won't hear me if the TV's on."

"Are you really Papa's son?" Remus asked Logan.

"Um, yes, I am his biological son."

Roman ran into the kitchen where Patton was still cooking. "Papa?"

"Yeah, Ro?"

"Why'd you hide Logan from us?"

"Oh, sweetie, I didn't hide Logan from y'all! His mother had never told me that he'd been born so I had no idea he existed."

"Oh, that's sad… so kinda like how you and Dad didn't know that me and Remus existed until you found us at the adoption place? Well, except that Logan's your bioluh… biological son and me and Remus aren't."

"Yeah, that's exactly right!"

"Remus and I," Janus corrected. "I am trying to teach our sons some semblance of proper grammar after all."

…

Supper went fairly well, it was a bit awkward at times and Logan had a strong feeling that Virgil didn't like him, but the twins' lively conversation soon easily broke up any awkwardness.

"I can help clean up," Logan offered after they'd finished eating.

"Aw, that's okay! I've got it. Besides, you're our guest!"

"Oh, alright…"

"Um, but if you want, you could go watch the twins in the living room. They'll probably get out some toys which is fine, just make sure they don't physically hurt each other. Oh, but if that's too much pressure, I can come watch them, I'm just helping Janus clean up right now."

"That's alright, I can watch them." Logan walked deeper into the living room and around the couch, noticing Virgil scowling at him from the dining table as he went.

Seriously, why did Virgil dislike him so much?

"Logan!" Remus exclaimed as he knocked his plastic dinosaur into Roman's.

"Come play with us!" Roman whacked his pteranodon into Remus' triceratops, which fell out of Remus' hand, causing Roman to cheer.

"Aw, man!" Remus pouted. "Now how am I supposed to defeat the dino rebels!"

Logan sat down on the floor next to the twins. "Hmm, perhaps the Ankylosaurus could help?"

"Oh, yeah! But I'm dead, so you'll have to play him, okay?"

"Alright, I can do that."

"Oh no!" Roman cried dramatically. "Another leader of the Dinosaur Imperial Magistrate —DIM for short— has arisen!"

Logan played with the twins, using the plastic dinosaurs to fight for a minute or two when Virgil came into the living room and sat on the couch, gesturing for Logan to come sit next to him.

After Logan excused himself from the battle, Remus and Roman continuing on in his absence, he got up and perched himself on the edge of the couch.

"Yes?"

"You don't have to play with them, you know,"

"Oh, I know, but I actually enjoy playing with people younger than me."

"I just— I can take care of them by myself." Virgil huffed. "I know that Patton doesn't think that, but I can! I can be responsible!"

"Alright. I've never said otherwise—"

"You can't just come in here and suddenly be a part of this family."

"O… kay? I didn't—"

"I don't know what you think you're doing, just waltzing in here like you've always been here but you haven't! You can't just uproot our family because suddenly you want a dad."

"I understand that I haven't always been here but I really am not trying to uproot anything. I'm not trying to tear your family apart, I just want to earn my place in it."

"And what makes you think you will?!" Virgil exclaimed, his voice dangerously low, but still quiet so as not to let the twins playing on the other side of the living room or the adults in the kitchen overhear.

"I… I don't know," Logan admitted. "When I first met Patton, I didn't even originally come to try and join the family he'd built for himself. I just wanted to know why he hadn't wanted me as a baby, only to find out that my mother had lied and he had no idea I existed. I'm only here trying to earn a place in Patton's life because he's invited me into it."

"I—" Virgil's breaths were shorter than they should have been. "W— well stop trying! Who said you deserve to try! You shouldn't expect so much so soon!" Virgil's voice was steadily rising, so much so that the twins looked up from where they were playing.

"Are you okay, Virgie?" Roman asked.

"Yeah, you seem mad," Remus agreed.

"Everything's fine," Virgil gritted out, "I'm just talking to Logan."

"Okay, just remember Papa's saying: 'you say things bad when you're mad' !"

"Whatever, just go play."

The twins both frowned.

"Um, okay," Remus said, worry still evident in his tone. He looked at Virgil for a moment longer before he hesitantly went back to what seemed to be an odd game that involved both chess and checker pieces.

Logan took a deep breath. Virgil's words struck a little too close to home. "I apologize if it seems like I've been trying to barge in where I do not belong, but if I could ju—"

"Just stop it already. I don't wanna talk about this anymore."

"I— alright."

"I just…" Virgil took some more heavy breaths. "I just don't understand how you can come in here and act like you belong and like everyone's totally chill with that! Patton just met you the other day, there's no way that he could like you already! He's just being polite! And you're too naïve to fuckin' see that.

"No one even wants you here!" Virgil stopped, looking quite surprised at his outburst… at least he did until Logan's vision blurred with unshed tears. Logan couldn't see Virgil's face well enough to tell after that.

Logan stood up. "Well then, I apologize for overstaying my welcome. I can see that I'm not wanted so… so I'll be going then. Goodbye."

"Wait, I didn't mean t—"

"Didn't you though?" Logan snapped as he made his way around the couch and to the front door.

Patton came out of the kitchen, Janus right behind him, and asked, "Oh, Logan, are you leaving so soon?"

Logan opened the door.

"Wait, Logan—"

Logan shut the door behind himself with a bit more force than necessary, just able to hear Virgil faintly say, "Shit, I think I made him cry."

Tears streamed down Logan's face the entire walk home.

-

Logan had never been one to outwardly display his emotions, but he also tried not to just push them down. Which was why he'd felt so utterly embarrassed when he couldn't stop crying the day prior.

It was one thing for Logan to cry in the privacy of his own room, and another thing entirely to cry in front of Patton and his family. Sure, someone might've seen him cry as he was walking home, but that was nothing in comparison to how shameful he felt that Patton had to have seen him like that.

So much for trying to prove that he was good enough. He'd certainly messed that up beyond repair as there was no way that Patton would want him now.

Logan sighed, and forcing himself to get out of bed, he walked to the living room.

Logan's mother looked up from the TV and frowned, using the remote to turn it off.

"Hey, baby. What's wrong? Did something happen last night?"

"...I made a complete fool of myself."

She frowned. "Hmm, well come here. Let's talk it out."

Logan sat next to her. "Okay."

"So? What happened?"

"Well, Virgil said that no one wanted me there, among other things, and I kind of panicked, so I left… but everyone saw that I was crying before I could leave. It… Newton, I was so embarrassed. Still am, actually."

"Oh, honey! I'm so sorry."

Logan sniffed. "He was right though. I did kind of just barge in there and act like I was entitled to Patton and his family."

"Really?" His mother asked skeptically. "Because that doesn't sound like you at all."

"I— well… Virgil informed me that Patton didn't actually want me there, that he was just being polite and I was too naïve to see that," Logan spat as tears began to well up in his eyes.

"Hmm, okay. I don't know what Virgil's problem is, but I just really don't think any of that's true. I've been messaging your dad a bit ever since you met him. He seemed nothing but excited that you were in his life… well, and guilty for not being there for you sooner, but I've already told him that it's not his fault. I was the one to keep it from him after all…

"Anyway, point is, your dad absolutely wants you there. I think you'd know if he was just being nice. If there's two things I remember about him from college, it's how kind he was and how his passive aggression was not super veiled. I really do think that he cares about you, and while I don't know why Virgil said all those things, I think you should talk to the both them about it. Maybe it's not as bad as you think."

A few tears rolled down Logan's cheeks. "...Are you sure?"

His mother patted his shoulder. "Quite sure."

"Okay… when do you think I sh—"

There were a few light knocks on the front door, making Logan startle as he quickly tried to wipe away the few fallen tears.

Logan's mother got up and answered the door. "Hello, what can I do for you two?"

Logan couldn't hear what the other people had said, but his mother quickly ushered Patton and Virgil in with a, "Please, come in. I'm sure there's much to talk about."

Logan was just about to stand up and hide in his room when Patton said, "Wait, Logan. This'll only take a minute, but there's something that Virgil wanted to say."

Logan hesitated and almost left anyway, but Virgil seemed so genuinely worried that Logan stayed.

"Alright. Just for a minute."

"Okay…" Virgil nodded, still looking extremely nervous but almost a bit relieved. He stood in front of the couch, still keeping some distance so as to not crowd Logan.

Patton and Logan's mother went into the kitchen, most likely to make some tea, and Patton gave Logan a brief reassuring smile.

"I just wanted to say that I'm sorry for snapping at you yesterday," Virgil began. "I didn't mean anything I said, especially that no one wanted you there… you don't have to earn your place in this family by the way. This doesn't make it right, but I was jealous because I thought that Patton liked you more than me. But that's not true, he doesn't play favourites like that."

"...Oh. I see."

"I'm afraid that I was kinda projecting my feelings of inadequacy onto you, like, everything I said to you was what I was feeling towards Pat. Um, but he and I had an entire conversation about it and I'm doing a lot better now, but still, I'm really sorry you had to get caught up in all that shit. In all of my shit."

"I… did not enjoy it, that's for sure, but as long as you learn from your mistake and try your best not to do it again…"

"I promise. From now on if I have a problem with someone, I'll talk to them about it instead of snapping at someone else."

"Good. In that case, I forgive you."

Virgil's shoulders slumped in relief. "Okay, thanks, Logan."

"You're welcome, Virgil. And thank you for apologising."

"No problem, it's the least I could do after I was so mean to you." Virgil shifted on his feet. There was a pause before he asked, "Hey, wanna go see what our parents are talking about in the kitchen?"

"Sure."

Logan's mother laughed at something Patton had said as Logan and Virgil walked into the kitchen.

"Oh, hey, kids. You get everything sorted out?" Patton asked, a bit pointedly at Virgil.

"Yeah, I apologized and he forgave me."

"Good, I'm glad."

"Um, hey… Pops?" Virgil seemed a bit hesitant with the nickname, and Logan deduced that he must have just started using the fatherly nickname after his emotional conversation with Patton.

Patton seemed to be holding back a beaming smile as he answered, "Yes, Virge?"

"Can we take Logan and his mom out to get burgers for lunch?"

"Oh, that's a great idea! Er, if they're not busy, that is."

Logan's mother hummed. "Well, I don't have work until three, and it's a Saturday, so it's not like Logan has school."

"Great! Do y'all like Sonic?"

Logan felt himself get excited. "Sonic's burgers are superior, especially when you consider the facts that you can get tater tots with it and that they have cherry limeades, as well as root beer. Which are my two favourite drink options."

"You're absolutely right," Virgil agreed. "They really are superior."

"Did you know that the first location opened near Shawnee, Oklahoma and was originally called the Top Hat Drive-In? In 1959 when Troy Smith and his business partner, Charlie Pappe looked into getting it copyrighted, but they discovered that it already was copyrighted. So they named the franchise Sonic, with the slogan 'Service With the Speed of Sound' ."

"Oh, yeah," Virgil agreed. "I think I read an article about that. They named it Sonic because the jets at Tinker Air Force Base in Oklahoma city were breaking the sound barrier, right?"

"Yes, that's correct." Logan couldn't help but give Virgil a small smile, who returned it easily.

Logan had never met someone who liked Sonic anywhere near as much as him, and looked forward to sharing more facts with Virgil.

In the end, Logan had never had so much fun doing something so normal as getting hamburgers. Although he was beginning to suspect that nothing was normal around the Sanders' family… and he was right.

-

Logan loved the science fair, it was one of his favourite things about school, and even if his mother usually had to work a lot, she always made time for Logan's science fair, and this year was no different.

…At least in that aspect, it was no different, it was, however, definitely different in another way, namely, Patton and his whole family came.

Janus and Virgil were each holding the hand of one of the twins who were trying to pull every which way to see everything, bringing up the rear was someone that Logan didn't know, but looked rather like Patton —a brother or cousin, maybe?— in a floral print shirt, and leading the whole procession was Patton, a large tote bag on one shoulder, and a big water bottle in his other hand.

Patton waved, the tote bag almost slipping, but he managed to catch it just in time, laughing at himself a bit. "Hey, Logan! I brought snacks!"

"...To a science fair?"

"Yeah! I thought we might get hungry after."

"Ah, that's true. I hadn't thought of that. Good idea."

"Thank you!" Patton beamed. "Oh! This is my brother, Thomas." Patton gestured with his lips at the person Logan didn't recognize.

"What's up?" Thomas greeted.

"I'm at the science fair."

Thomas snorted. "That's fair."

Logan squinted suspiciously. "Was that a pun?"

"Sure was!"

"...I can certainly see the relation."

Thomas and Patton laughed.

Janus turned to Logan from where he'd been talking to his children. "Ah, before I forget, good luck with your presentation."

"Thank you, Janus."

"You're going to do awesome!" Roman assured.

"Or fall flat on your face," Remus gleefully added.

Logan pursed his lips. "Well, I certainly hope I don't fall on my face."

"Nah," Virgil said. "You won't… probably."

"Confident as ever," Janus teased sarcastically. "Well, we should probably go take our seats, but we wanted to wish you luck first."

"Thank you, I appreciate that."

Janus took the bag and water bottle from Patton.

"It was nice meeting you," Thomas said.

"Nice to meet you as well."

"Break a leg!" Remus said sweetly as they walked towards the seats, and somehow, Logan knew that he only half meant it in the 'perform well' way.

"So, where's your mom?" Patton asked.

"Here! I'm here." Logan's mother smiled nervously as she tried to catch her breath. "Patton, it's, um…"

"Good to see you again, Cindy."

Her shoulders sagged slightly in relief. "Yes. It is."

Patton was about to say something in reply but a woman with a dyed blonde bob haircut walked up to them, an overly fake smile on her face. "Hi! I'm Sheryl."

"Hi, Sheryl, I'm Patton!" Patton shook her hand. "And this is my son, Logan, and his mom, Cindy."

"Aww, don't you two make a cute couple."

Logan sighed a little louder than he meant to.

Patton's smile quickly turned awkward as he explained, "Oh, we're not a couple anymore, but my husband and our other children are here."

"Oh." Sheryl just awkwardly walked off and spotted someone she knew. "Susan! How's the kids?"

Logan mentally groaned. "Apologies. That entire interaction was my fault."

"What?" Patton asked. "Nonsense!"

"You wouldn't even be here if I didn't have a science fair, or had met you… or even existed."

"Oh, hey, no. Logan, that wasn't your fault. And I'm really glad you exist, especially because I got to meet you. She was just being a bit of a jerk—

"Fuckin' asshole," Logan's mother interjected bitterly.

"But it's nothing I couldn't handle, and absolutely not your fault."

"...Okay."

"Okay."

"If she says anything else, let me know." Logan's mother pursed her lips. "I'm on the board, and I can assure you that we don't take too kindly to homophobia. Veiled or not."

"Thanks, I appreciate that. I'll certainly let you know."

Logan's mother checked her watch before she looked between Patton and Logan and nodded to herself. "Well, I'm gonna sit down. It starts in ten minutes but you two should have time."

"Should have time for what?" Patton asked.

"Logan wants to ask you something." She smiled knowingly and walked away.

Logan sighed.

His mother was a bit too perceptive at times.

"What was it you wanted to ask me about?"

"Oh… well, I was just wondering why… why you introduced me as your son. I mean, obviously I'm your biological son but…"

"Oh! I introduced you as my son because you are my son. Ah, but if that makes you uncomforta—"

"No! Er, no. I'm not uncomfortable. I just… am not clear what yo—" Logan cringed at himself. "Nevermind."

"No! Go ahead. What is it?"

"I… I'm not really sure how to explain."

"Oh, hmm, that's tough… maybe I can guess? I kinda think I know where this is going. Oh, but I can totally just give you time if you wanna think it out for yourself."

"No, that's… I'd— I mean, it would probably be easiest if you just said what you thought I'm trying to say."

"Okay. So, what I think you're maybe wondering is what… oh wow, this is hard. Okay, you're my biological son, but you're also just… my son, okay?"

"Oh, I— okay."

"Is that okay?"

"Definitely. I… yes."

"Okay. And um, well, you definitely don't have to… but I'm okay with you know, fatherly nicknames, but again, only if you want! Not trying to rush anything of course, or make you feel like you have to ever even. So… um, so yeah."

Tears began to prick at the corner of Logan's eyes.

He really hadn't expected this to happen when he'd woken up today. He'd of course known that Patton was kind and caring, but to know that he already thought of Logan as his son… that it was okay for Logan to call him father… it was all too much, albeit in a good way.

"Oh! Sorry, I didn't mean to make you cry! You don't have to—"

"No, no. It's alright. These, uh, these are happy tears… Father." Despite Patton having just said it was okay, Logan still warily looked at him to see his reaction.

Patton broke out in a big grin. "Awww! Oh my goodness, abjfshdjsjsjdh!"

"Wh— what?"

"Aah, sorry. I'm just, shvshshsh."

"...Are you having a stroke? The signs are—"

"No, it's okay. I'm not having a stroke. Just so happy I'm at a loss for words!"

"Oh, I see."

"...Can I hug you?"

"Yeah, I'd like that."

Patton wrapped his arms around Logan. "Thank you for being my son."

Logan buried his face into Patton's shoulder before mumbling, "And thank you for being my father."

Logan was almost late for his presentation due to his happy tears, but he found that it was very, very worth it.

-

Logan hadn't quite been sure what to think when Patton invited him to come along with the other Sanders to the beach. For one, he hated swimming, but also, if there was anything Logan hated more than swimming, it was sand. And that was without even mentioning the ride home in wet swim clothes.

So no, Logan wasn't looking forward to going... but Patton had invited him, and he did enjoy the Sanders' company.

When Patton's sky-blue minivan pulled up, Logan got up from the window seat, grabbed his bag, and, after locking the apartment door behind himself, walked down the stairs and to the van.

Patton rolled down the passenger window and leaned around Janus to say, "Hey, Logan! You got everything you need?"

"Yes, I have sunscreen, a pair of clothes, goggles, a towel, and the key to get back into my apartment."

"Great! Hop in!" Patton pressed a button and the side door slid open.

…

The drive there mostly consisted of the twins asking 'are we there yet' just to annoy everyone; bickering with each other; Virgil, Logan, and Janus trying to stop them from said bickering; and Patton jamming out to oldies as he drove.

Due to the twins' bickering and the fact that Logan had never been out this way to the ocean before, the drive felt longer than it actually was, but soon enough they were all unloading from the van and heading down to the beach.

It was a rather warm June day, and the sun sparkled across the water brightly as it was unhindered by any clouds.

Logan could feel the apprehension building in himself the closer they got to the water, but took a deep breath to try and get it to settle. Patton wanted him to go swimming, so swimming he would go.

After setting up their stuff and putting on sunscreen, they all got in the water. Remus and Roman instantly began racing, Virgil acting as the referee, while Patton and Janus got in the water at a more sedate pace, already wading in up to their knees.

Logan was still standing quite firmly in the sand.

Patton turned around to look at Logan and furrowed his eyebrows. "Logan? What's wrong?"

"I just… am not particularly fond of swimming, that's all." Logan hesitantly walked to where the water lapped at his ankles, feeling a bit silly as Patton was already in to his waist.

"Aww, I'm sorry. We would've picked a different activity if we'd known that."

"No, that's alright. If I really don't want to swim, I can sit in a beach chair."

"Still. We wanna do stuff that you'll like too. How about next time you can pick where we go?"

"Really?"

"Sure! Just name the place and we'll go soon."

"Hm… how about the planetarium?"

"Sounds great!"

Logan nodded and mentally braced himself as he walked farther into the water. It wasn't quite as cold as he'd thought, but was still pleasantly cool in the heat of the day.

Logan paused with a small frown once he'd gotten in past his bellybutton and sniffed the air. Since this was the ocean and not a pool, there was no chlorine to bother Logan. He got in to his shoulders and pushed his feet off the sand, swimming in place to stay afloat, finally level with Patton instead of trailing behind.

"This isn't as bad as I'd thought."

"Awe, I'm glad! I personally love swimming."

"Mm, I'd… well, not forgotten that there wasn't any chlorine, of course, but it's not that bad. And sure, it smells a bit like salt, but considering it's the ocean, that makes sense." The water began to lap at Logan's chin. "I really had expected it to be so much wors—" The water brushed past his lips and he wrinkled his nose as he spat out the few drops of water that'd made it into his mouth. "Eurgh! Why does it taste so salty?!"

Patton laughed gently. "You knew the ocean was salty, Lo!"

"Well, of course I did, Father, but I didn't know it was going to be this salty! Ugh, it's horrendous."

Patton giggled. "Aww, sorry, kiddo."

…

The saltwater had tasted terrible, but all in all, swimming had gone much better than Logan had expected. The lack of chlorine had really made a big difference.

After they had gotten out of the water for lunch, almost everyone made sand castles while Janus and Logan sat on a blanket under the shade of a big umbrella.

"So, how are you enjoying the family so far?" Janus asked, startling a small laugh out of Logan.

"What?"

"Well, it's been a few months. Surely you have formed some sort of opinion by now."

"Oh, I have. I just wasn't expecting the question." Logan paused for a moment, trying to gather his thoughts. "I really like it here… not the beach— well, it is nice here, but what I meant was that I really like being with everyone."

"Good, I'm glad. Everyone likes that you're here too."

"...Everyone?"

Janus smiled like he was in on a joke. Perhaps he was. "Everyone."

"...I'm not intruding?"

"Not at all. I daresay that there would be many protests if you tried to cut us off. Patton is quite the protective papa bear. Actually, if you want to be specific, I believe there'd be five protests. Six if you count your mother."

"Oh… six?"

"Yes, six. Did you really think I'm completely apathetic towards you?"

"Well, I didn't know, and… well, I didn't want to assume."

Janus hummed. "Now you don't have to."

"True." Logan paused, a bit of anxiety building in his gut as he tried to think of how to word what he wanted to say. "Thank you for letting me into your family," Logan rushed out. "You didn't have to do that, but you did anyway, and I— I really appreciate it."

"I'm… not even quite sure what to say to that. I don't feel as though it was letting you as in 'I gave you permission', but more like you just naturally became a part of our family."

Logan hummed. "I see. Well, regardless, I'm still grateful for all of you."

"And us you," Janus said, voice full of sincerity.

They sat there in peaceful silence for several minutes until Patton came up.

"Janus! The kids say it's your turn to play with them."

Janus sighed faux-dramatically. "Well, if they insist…" He got up and went to where the others were throwing sand around.

"Hi!" Patton exclaimed as he sat down next to Logan.

"Hello, Father. How was the sand?"

"Sandy dandy!"

Logan exhaled through his nose, if only to keep himself from laughing. "That's… a very you response."

Patton laughed. "You betcha!" He looked out at the ocean for a few moments before saying, "Hey, Logan?"

"Yes?"

Patton looked back at Logan. "I'm glad you came to find me a few months ago."

"Mm, me too."

"I… I know I said this at your science fair last month, but you're family." Patton laughed a little. "I mean, of course you're family, but I just… I wanted to say it again. And that… that I really care about you, Logan."

"I really care about you too… Papa?" Logan hadn't meant it to sound like a question but he was a little unsure if Patton would think it was okay so it did anyway.

"Awwwww, c'mere!"

Patton scooted closer, Logan copying him, and Patton put an arm around Logan's shoulders, who immediately rested his head on Patton's shoulder.

"Love you… Lo-son."

"...Was that a pun in front of my emotional conversation?"

Patton laughed again, much louder this time. "I can tell you've been hanging out with Virgil a lot."

Logan smiled. "Maybe a bit."

"Hey!" Remus exclaimed from a bit farther down the beach. "Come look at what we made!"

Patton and Logan exchanged glances as Logan sat up properly again before they got up and went to where the twins and Virgil were gathered.

"Where's Jan—" Logan cut himself off with a startled laugh as he could only see Janus' head, his body under the sand which had been shaped to look like a snake.

"See!" Roman beamed. "He's a sea snake."

"You good under there, dear?" Patton asked amusedly, obviously trying not to giggle.

Janus pouted a bit, but still said, "Yes, I'm fine, just covered in sand."

"I like the details in the scales! Very fancy."

"Yeah," Virgil agreed. "Re and Ro did most of them."

Logan tilted his head to the side. "What species were you modeling this after?"

Roman thought about it for a moment. "Uh… sea snake?"

Virgil snorted. "We didn't have one in mind. Just used our imagination."

"Ah, I see."

"Come build sandcastles with us, Logan!" Roman exclaimed more than asked as he smiled up at Logan.

Logan couldn't help but smile back. "Alright. What time period and place were you thinking of?"

"Ooh," Remus cut in, "Which ones have the most gore?"

"Well…"

Everything was so very different from only a few months prior, but it'd only changed for the better.

Logan had always had his mother, but his family grew bigger than he'd ever thought possible.

Home really wasn't about the house, but rather about the people; and between Logan's mother, Patton, Janus, Virgil, Remus, and Roman, Logan had an abundance of home.

And there truly was no place like home.

~The End~

No reposting, likes are nice, and reblogs are very much appreciated! | Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @someoneiwasnt

[lizzygrantarchives]

The Quietus, October 4, 2011

Even though her song ‘Video Games’ emerged a couple of months back, Lana Del Rey has already experienced equal parts adulation and suspicion. Here, John Calvert speaks to her about David Lynch, New York and the ghosts that hide behind her ‘white picket-fenced cheer’.

She talks like a dairy queen, like Britney Spears, like a cheerleader. 24 years old and exuding the hardy effervescence unique to healthy American girls, there is nothing in Del Rey’s manner that connects the voice at the end of the line to ‘Video Games’, the YouTube smash hit carried by a purring vocal performance so rich you can feel almost feel David Lynch’s velvet carpeting under your fingers.

That is until I hit playback on my telephone’s dictaphone. Slowly all the years of a weary, haunted youth spent in backwoods New York State unravel from under her bubbly facade, like furtive murmurings on the other side of a door. As per the many doomed chanteuses and dead movie idols she invokes in her cinematic music, it seems Del Rey is a good actress. In true Lynch fashion, beneath her white picket-fenced cheer hide the writhing earthworms that plague her heavy heart.

With increasing frequency, naysayers are testing the walls of Del Ray’s persona, in particular questioning exactly who should be credited for her perfectly realised Valley of the Dolls aesthetic. Amidst universal praise for ‘Video Games’, she’s nevertheless faced the incredulity of everyone from high profile bloggers to broadsheet columnists to disgruntled indie stars (Amy Klein of Titus Andronicus threw her oar in), some of whom are convinced she’s a kohl-eyed marketing ploy and as fake as those eyelash extensions. So in a delicious twist of dramatic irony, it’s precisely Del Rey’s persona – the artifice – that forms her only barrier of defence against the media’s worst advances.

Its a lie, however, to tell the truth. Because it seems her story up to now, if largely less glamorous, isn’t so different to that of the Marilyn Monroes or the Judy Garlands, or indeed Lynch’s own tragic starlet in Mulholland Drive. The story goes: smalltown girl moves to the big city, falls into dark waters, becomes forever imprisoned in the house of mirrors that is the media’s oppressive gaze.

Enter frame the Quietus, at hand to shoot the close-up she may or may not be ready for.

Have you always had a dark side, Lana?

When I was younger I felt lonely… In terms of my thought processes. I had the constant feeling that I thought differently to everyone around me. So, I suppose I felt lonely for a home. I didn’t know where I wanted to be, but I knew I wasn’t there yet. I think that this loneliness set a dark undertone for things to come.

Are you a David Lynch fan?

Yeah. When I was a kid playing in bars in Lake Placid, after every show somebody would come up to me and be like ‘You must be a David Lynch fan!’. At the time I wasn’t up on ‘all things cool’, but I looked into Lynch and quickly became a fan. Although I think the themes he explores are a step further into the extreme than I’m prepared to go.

If you can put it down to one scene, which Lynch moment do you return to most for inspiration when writing? I envisage something like the Mulholland Drive theatre sequence, crossed with the home video of a dead Laura Palmer dancing with Donna on the hill.

Have you ever seen Fire Walk With Me and the scenes where Laura Palmer is in the bar with the lumberjacks, sort of dancing and getting crazy? Well, it’s that frightening sensation of being out of control that really sticks in my mind.

Some of the music in your chosen field of expertise suggests love has more to do with obsession than companionship. For example ‘The End Of The World’ by Skeeter Davis has a creepy What Ever Happened To Baby Jane quality about it. And then there’s your line from ‘Video Games’: ‘It’s you, it’s you, it’s all for you / Everything I do’. Does this idea resonate with you?

I really love that [Davis] song, actually. And yeah, that idea resonates with me. Growing up I was always prone to obsession, partly because of the way I am, but partly because after feeling so lonely for such a long time, when I found someone or something that I liked, I felt helplessly drawn to it. I suppose that accounts for some of the creepiness in my music.

Like a fatal attraction?

Yeah. After I was sent away to school when I was 15, I had to start life on my own. So I began looking for that ‘someone’ to hang on to. And if it so happened that I found him, then there have been occasions in the past where I’ve been overtaken by my feelings. But with some of the bad things that come with love, there’s also a lot of good… For example that connection… which I struggle to have with most people. So although there’s a dark side to love, there’s also something really hopeful.

You moved to New York City at age 18. Were you at all inspired by New York’s noirish undertones?

Yeah. The way I experienced New York, for a long time after I moved, was alone and at night, walking the streets. I mean, there are thousands of streets in New York and I know them all. I’d go down to the tip of Manhattan, or even down to Coney Island, then travel all the way back up. Because I come from a place that, geographically, isn’t that stimulating. But New York’s architecture alone is enough to inspire a whole album. In fact, that’s what happened at first – my early stuff was mostly just interpretations of landscapes.

Do you feel yourself change when ‘in character’?

‘Lana’ and ‘Lizzy’ are the same person. I wish I could escape into some alter-ego, just so I could feel more comfortable onstage, but I feel the same as Lana as I do Lizzy.

How was it working with David Kahne [The Strokes, Regina Spector, Paul McCartney] on your debut? He has a background in replicating bygone eras.

It was validating when David asked to work with me, only a day after he got my demo. He has known as a producer with a lot integrity and who had an interest in making music that wasn’t just pop.

In terms of instruction, what was Kahne’s input?

He had a lot of things he wanted done. For example, he was interested in a more traditional vocal style and I wasn’t. He’s also a real scientist, so he had a very particular plan. The album ended up somewhere in between what he wanted and what I wanted.

There’s a theory that the archetype you portray plays to male sexual fantasies?

In the video for ‘Video Games’, I was trying to look smart and well turned-out, rather than ‘sexy’. Of course I wanted to look good, but ‘smart’ was the primary focus.

What inspired ‘Video Games’?

A boy. I think we came together because we were both outsiders. It was perfect. But I think with that contentment also comes sadness. There was something heavenly about that life – we’d go to work and he’d play his video games – but also it was maybe too regular. At the time I was becoming disillusioned with being a singer and was very happy to settle with a boyfriend who I loved, but in the end we both lost sight of our dreams. Maybe there’s something not-so-special about domestic life.

A popular American blog recently published a supposed exposé on you, with accusations of inauthenticity. Do you feel like you’ve had your eyes opened? [At the beginning of the interview tQ apologises in advance for ‘going on a bit’. Lizzy/Lana’s telling response is ‘Better a bore than an assassin…’]

I dunno. If I say anything they’ll just publish something like [speaks like an anchorman reading the headlines] ‘Lana Del Ray Gets Her Feelings Hurt!’. It just seemed that with that one article, they were particularly cruel. Not in a playground/indie/mean way, but in a personal vendetta sort of way. They really made it their mission to destroy me. I’m not a confrontational person, so if that’s going to be my life from here on, I’d honestly rather not sing or have a career.

In an interview with Pitchfork you said that people have offered you opportunities in exchange for sleeping with them. Is this true? At the corporate level?

[Laughs, then becomes tongue-tied]

I mean… uh… uh… I mean things get a little crazy, I guess.

Um… There are some situations when you kind of know.

… I mean, it’s sort of a loaded question.

It’s common knowledge that The Pretenders’ Chrissie Hynde was, by her own admittance, hopelessly drawn to the bad boys – damaged and dark men. Would that be the case with Lizzy?

Yeah, in the past that has been the case. I think with so-called ‘creative’ people, their particular strain of genius can cause the pendulum to swing too far – into self-destruction and what you could call ‘madness’, which is something I can relate to. So, yes, I was once attracted to that. But that was then. Now I’m looking for something more simple.

You also told Pitchfork that God has saved your life a million times, which strikes me as in opposition to your music. Because, in films based in small town America, religion is frequently a patriarchal, repressive and evil presence, with the archetype you portray acting as a force in subverting it.

I think there’s a division of organised religion similar to what you’ve described. But where I’m concerned, my understanding of God has come from my own personal experiences… because I was in trouble so many times in New York that if you were me, you would believe in God too. When things get bad enough, your only resort is to lie in bed and start praying. I dunno about congregating once a week in a church and all that, but when I heard there is a divine power you can call on, I did. I suppose my approach to religion is like my approach to music – I take what I want and leave the rest.

What kind of ‘trouble’?

Any and all. When I was in New York I had nowhere to live, and I was trying to find a way to be a musician… Just trying to survive, which is fucking hard by the way. So I got myself into a lot of situations I didn’t plan on. [Pauses] I think what I was going for was something beautiful, but I kinda got myself into trouble along the way. Sorry, that’s pretty vague.

But you live in London now?

No, not yet. I’ve been in London for most of the last two years, but I’ll book three months there then go home to New York for three weeks. However, when I’m not working I go see my friends in Glasgow, so I spend my time there when I want to have fun. I’m in Glasgow right now.

Any encounters with [notorious angry drink enjoyed especially in Celtic territories] Buckfast? I like the image of you stabbing someone in a car park.

[Laughs] No, I’m a good girl. I leave the drinking to the boys these days.

Do you feel that the ‘Femme Fatale’ archetype still has the power to tap into ‘male sexual anxieties’ or challenge a patriarchal society?

If I’m honest, no. Not as much as it used to. In the 50s it was a new premise, a new form of female power. I think that these days, plain old intellectualism is a more powerful force than the idea of the femme fatale.

Why is it, do you feel, that so much of ‘Golden Age’ pop placed love, and laterally eroticism, in such close proximity with notions of death? In particular the music of Roy Orbison.

I suppose because, sometimes, love feels like a life or death situation. I mean, losing true love is pretty much as bad as it gets, other than actually dying or losing good health. Most people know that. Most people can relate. As Davis says, it’s like the end of the world.

Originally published on thequietus.com with the headline Original Sin: An Interview With Lana Del Rey.

[readblogs]

Finding the Balance: Exploring the Limits of Home Insulation

Short Intro:

Yes, it is possible to over-insulate a house. While insulation is important for maintaining comfortable temperatures and reducing energy costs, excessive insulation can lead to issues such as poor indoor air quality, excessive moisture retention, and reduced ventilation.

Over-insulating a house can trap moisture inside, leading to mold and mildew growth. It can also restrict airflow, which is necessary for maintaining healthy indoor air quality. Additionally, if a house is tightly sealed without proper ventilation, it can lead to a buildup of indoor pollutants and allergens.

Furthermore, over-insulation can contribute to overheating during warmer months if the insulation is not balanced with proper ventilation and shading strategies.

Therefore, it's essential to strike a balance between insulation levels, ventilation, and moisture control to ensure optimal comfort and energy efficiency in a home. Consulting with building professionals or energy auditors can help determine the appropriate insulation levels for specific climates and building types.

Introduction:

In the quiet countryside of suburban America, nestled between rolling hills and whispering trees, lies a quaint home. Its white picket fence stands as a sentinel, guarding against the elements that Mother Nature hurls its way. Inside, warmth dances through the halls, and comfort is woven into every nook and cranny. Yet, beneath the cozy facade, a question lingers: Is it possible to over insulate a house?

The Quest for Comfort: Understanding Home Insulation

Unraveling the Layers: A Primer on Home Insulation

Home Insulation, the unsung hero of home comfort construction, works tirelessly to maintain a delicate balance of warmth in the winter and coolness in the summer. From fiberglass batts to spray foam, the options are as varied as the colors of autumn leaves. Yet, amidst this abundance, lies a labyrinth of choices that can confound even the most seasoned homeowner.

The Science Behind the Seal: How Insulation Works

Picture this: a chilly winter's night, the wind howls outside, but inside, serenity reigns supreme. Insulation, like a loyal sentinel, traps heat within its embrace, refusing to let it escape through the cracks and crevices. It's a delicate dance of physics and engineering, where thermal resistance reigns supreme, and energy efficiency becomes the holy grail.

Insulation SpacesBy Joe: Bridging the Gap

Amidst the myriad options, there exists a beacon of hope: Insulation SpacesBy Joe. With their expertise and dedication, they navigate the murky waters of home insulation, offering guidance and solutions tailored to each unique abode. From attic to basement, no space is too obscure, no challenge too daunting.

The Perils of Over-Insulation: Walking the Tightrope

Beyond the Threshold: When Insulation Goes Too Far

Imagine a house cocooned in layers upon layers of insulation, like a fortress against the elements. While the intentions may be noble, the consequences can be dire. Excessive insulation can lead to a phenomenon known as "overheating," where trapped heat becomes a suffocating blanket, stifling comfort and inviting a host of issues.

Moisture Misery: The Hidden Dangers

In the battle against the elements, moisture emerges as a formidable foe. Over-insulation can create a breeding ground for mold and mildew, turning a once-dry sanctuary into a damp dungeon. Condensation gathers like a specter, haunting walls and ceilings, leaving a trail of destruction in its wake.

The Cost of Comfort: Balancing Efficiency and Excess

In the pursuit of comfort, the line between efficiency and excess blurs into obscurity. As insulation layers multiply, so too does the financial burden. What once promised savings now threatens to bankrupt, as energy bills soar and wallets shrink. Finding the equilibrium becomes paramount, a delicate dance of cost and comfort.

Conclusion:

In the labyrinth of home insulation, finding the balance is both art and science. As we navigate the maze of options and considerations, one thing remains clear: Insulation SpacesBy Joe stands as a beacon of guidance, illuminating the path to comfort and efficiency.

Yet, amidst the quest for equilibrium, a question lingers: Can we ever truly insulate ourselves from the uncertainties of nature? As we ponder the limits of insulation, one thing is certain: the journey towards balance is never-ending, a testament to the resilience of human ingenuity and the eternal dance between comfort and compromise.

[jaysworlds]

fanfiction :)

It was never going to last. It was never going to last because Michael is the kind of boy who settles down at twenty-seven with a pretty brunette girl and has three point five children and a dog and a house with a white picket fence, and Gerry will be lucky to make it to twenty-seven at all.

Gerry knows, with every fibre of his being, that it was never going to last.

He just never thought it would end like this.

‘This’ is the papers he'd scattered over the floor of Gertrude's tiny office and ‘this’ is the pitying expression on her face and ‘this’ is the words he isn't coming back.

And I'm sorry, Gerard. Really.

And perhaps you should take the rest of the day off.

(He doesn’t. He doesn't, because all he has to go back to is the bookshop and his mother's disapproving glare.)

He doesn’t tell his mother. He's sure she knows, sure she found out from Gertrude, the same way she'd found out they were together in the first place, but he doesn't tell her. It's none of her business, the state of his heart.

That is the end of Michael Shelley, and so that should be the end of it. As though anything in Gerry's short, miserable life has ever been so simple.

It isn't long before he meets the monster wearing Michael's face. It laughs at the way his eyes water against his will and cups his jaw with hands that cut his skin, though it doesn't hurt him beyond that, and it lets him go.

He almost wishes it hadn't.

His tears are dry by the time he makes it home. His mother is still awake, but he doesn't speak to her. He has nothing to say.

He cannot avoid the thing pretending to be Michael (his Michael, Gerry cannot help thinking, as though Michael had ever really been his). It seems to seek him out, though it doesn't seem to know why.

If it were an option, if he thought he'd get away, he would leave. He doesn't know where he would go, but he'd go somewhere, somewhere where his mother and Gertrude and the thing that isn't Michael were not.

That place doesn't exist, though. Gertrude could find him anywhere, he knows that, and thinking the monster couldn't follow him would be naive, and he is haunted by his mother each time he looks in the mirror.

The creature that isn't Michael but looks like him follows him, haunting him with his own failure to protect the man he loves. Loved.

He's angry. He's always so angry, these days. He snaps at Gertrude, fights with his mother, and throws punches at the creature that isn’t Michael whenever it gets close enough. It only ever laughs and takes his hands in its, holding them gently and letting him struggle until he's worn himself out. Sometimes it helps.

His mother is getting sick of him, he can tell. She thinks he's getting weak, that he’s losing his touch. Maybe she's right.

He doesn't know what she's going to do about it. Maybe she'll kill him, like she killed his father. Some small, bitter part of him almost hopes she tries.

She does, because of course she does. It would be too much for him to be blessed with a forgiving mother.

He wakes up to her standing in his room with a knife, and he knows. He knows, and he doesn’t even bother to get out of bed.

“This really is a shame,” she says, and he smiles, wry. A shame, perhaps. Having to get rid of an asset which had, at some time in the past, been useful to her. Not because she would ever shed a tear for her son.

He rolls onto his back and stares up at the ceiling. What else is there to do?

The knife never comes down on his chest. Instead it falls to the floor with a quiet clatter, and Gerry looks over to find that his mother is dead.

The creature that isn't Michael but looks like him is standing behind her, its long, knife-like fingers all the way through her chest. She never cried out, never made a sound.

“Are you alright?” it asks.

Gerry watches it shake its hand, dislodging his mother's body. He doesn't know what to say to that.

“You're not him,” he says, finally.

“No,” it agrees, and comes to sit by him. “I am not him, but he is me.”

That doesn't make sense, Gerry knows it doesn't make sense, but he thinks he understands. Or maybe he's just hearing what he wants to hear. Either way, he draws a deep, shuddering breath and sits up. It takes more energy than he thought it would.

It – Michael, the Michael that isn't – makes a quiet hushing sound and folds him in its arms, cradling him like a small child. His Michael never held him like this, but for once he doesn't think he minds.

He doesn’t cry. His eyes don't sting, don't begin to water. He just sits there, dry-eyed, and thinks about how he really should be crying. His mother is dead, after all.

It saved his life. The other Michael, the thing which isn't. It saved his life.

He doesn’t thank it. Doesn't even acknowledge it, not really. But he lets it hold him.

Perhaps later he will be angry (he isn't) and perhaps later he will understand (he doesn't) and perhaps later he will cry (he does, until his eyes are red and his throat is hoarse and he's struggling to breathe, and the strange not-quite-Michael will come and wrap its arms around him until he falls asleep).

He wakes up on a twin mattress in a hotel room he doesn't remember booking, with the sin filtering in through the gap in the curtains, and when he takes a breath it feels like a new day, crisp and clear.

There is fresh coffee on the bedside table, steam still rising, and he picks it up, bringing it to his lips. It’s nice, sweet and a little milky, the way he would have made it himself.

The door opens – or at least, a door opens – and Gerry looks up to find Michael in the doorway.

“You're awake,” it says, and giggles. The room twists oddly, and then it’s sitting beside him on the bed. The bed does not dip under its weight.

“You made me coffee.”

“Yes,” it says, earnest. “We remembered how you like it, didn't we?”

“Yes.”

It giggles, perhaps proud or perhaps only amused. He can't tell.

He takes another sip of his coffee. “Where are we?”

It giggles. Definitely proud this time. “Paris, my bookburner.”

Paris. They’d talked about coming here, when Michael was still Michael Shelley. Gerry's Michael.

“You wanted to run away.”

He had never told it that. He had never told his Michael that, either.

“Beholders are not the only ones who know things, my bookburner.”

It keeps saying that. My bookburner. Gerry doesn't know if he wants to be its anything.

But it wraps an arm around his shoulders, almost hesitantly, and in the long moment that follows, as they sit in silence and Gerry drinks his coffee, he thinks perhaps that's not so bad.

Perhaps it could become his Michael again.

[naalbinder]

phoebe bridgers // elliott smith parallels

https://open.spotify.com/playlist/4BEfu6YZ7XbdHFZBXthIpN?si=6bf8fc460eba4d33

E - Riot Coming - “Sat down in jail with this friend of mine/Who'd never close both his eyes/But one was shut all the time/To cover the thing he was scared of”

E - Stupidity Tries “To sail across the sea of trash”

E - Going nowhere - “The old records are sitting on the floor/The ones I can’t put on anymore”

E - Clementine - “Anything to pass the time/And keep that song out of your mind”

P - Smoke Signals - “One of your eyes is always half-shut/Something happened when you were a kid” - “burning trash out on the beach” - “You said that song'll creep you out until you're dead”

E - Miss Misery - (music videos on the same street)

E - Easy way out - “While I watch you making mistakes/I wish you luck I really do” “I heard you found another audience to bore”

E - Looking Over My Shoulder - “Another sick rock ‘n’ roller acting like a dick”

E - Placeholder - “I'm the person you'll never need/The biggest loser on sixteenth street” - “Just like my favourite song/Some pretty words that didn't last that long”

P - Motion Sickness - “I'll be glad that I made it out/And sorry that it all went down like it did” “You said when you met me, you were bored” - “Hey, why do you sing with an English accent?/I guess it's too late to change it now”

E - Some Song - “Help me kill my time cause I'll never be fine”

P - Funeral - “Jesus Christ i'm so blue all the time/And that's just how i feel/Always have and i always will ”

E - Bled White - “Happy and sad come in quick succession/I’m never going to become what you became”

P - Demi Moore - “I got a good feeling/It doesn't happen very often”

E - St Ides Heaven - “With an open container from 7/11”

E - A Fond Farewell - “A fond farewell to a friend”

P - Scott Street - “With an open heart, open container” - “Anyway, don’t be a stranger / don’t be a stranger”

E - Last Call - “And I think I’m all done, you can switch me off safely/While i’m lying here for sleep to overtake me”

E - Roman Candle - “I’m a roman candle/My head is full of flames ”

P - Killer - “But when I’m sick and tired/And when my mind is barely there/When a machine keeps me alive/And I’m losing all my hair/I hope you kiss my rotten head/And pull the plug” - “Tame the fire in you”

E - Georgia Georgia

P - Georgia - “Georgia, Georgia, I love your son”

E - Twilight - “That you are already somebody’s baby”

E - See you later - “Made out of a night train”

E - King’s Crossing - “Instruments shine on a silver tray”

P - Chelsea - “You are somebody’s baby” - “For a chemical imbalance/You sure know how to ride a train” - “With a needle on a tray”

E - Christian Brothers - “No bad dream fucker's gonna boss me around/Christian brothers gonna take him down”

P - Would you rather - “Quarantined in a bad dream/He's half the man and you're twice as tall”

E - Son of Sam - “Son of Sam, son of a doctors love a nurses touch/Acting under orders from above”

P - You Missed My Heart - “A feeling of relief came over my soul/I couldn't take it any longer, and I lost control”

E - Bye - (instrumental)

E - New Monkey (Instrumental)

P - DVD Menu - (instrumental)

E - Coming up roses - “And you're coming up roses everywhere you go/Red roses follow”

E - Rose Parade - “Said, Won't you follow me down to the Rose Parade?”

P - Garden Song “They're gluing roses on a flatbed/You should see it, I mean thousands”

E - Condor Ave - “I don’t know what to do with your clothes or your letters”

E - Baby Britain - “Fights problems with bigger problems/Sees the ocean fall and rise/Counts the waves that somehow didn’t hit her/Water pouring from her eyes/Alcoholic and very bitter”

E - Say Yes - “I'm in love with the world/Through the eyes of a girl/Who's still around the morning after”

E - Seen How Things Are Hard - “You just didn't care/You were off getting drunk instead”

E - The Biggest Lie - "Oh, I just told the biggest lie/ I just told the biggest lie/The biggest lie"

P - Kyoto - “And you wrote me a letter/But I don't have to read it” - “I wanted to see the world/Then I flew over the ocean/And I changed my mind” - “I wanted to see the world/Through your eyes until it happened/Then I changed my mind” - “I'm gonna kill you/If you don't beat me to it” - "Guess I lied/I'm a liar/Who lies/'Cause I'm a liar"

E - Memory Lane - “Your little house on memory lane ”

E - Angel in the Snow - “Angel in the snow/all crushed out on the way you are”

E - Last Call - “And I wanted her to tell me that she would never wake me”

E - New Monkey - “For the millions of fans ignoring the bands”

E - Waltz #2 - “I'm never gonna know you now/But I'm gonna love you anyhow”

E - Amity - “I'm a neon sign and I stay open all the time”

P - Punisher - “The house where you lived with Snow White” - “But never not sweet to the trust funds and punishers” - “What if I told you/I feel like I know you?/But we never met” - “The drugstores are open all night/The only real reason I moved to the east side”

E - Some Song - “Yeah it's halloween tonight and every night”

E - Pitseleh - “I got a joke I've been dying to tell you/A silent kid is looking down the barrel/To make the noise that I kept so quiet”

P - Halloween - “Baby, it's Halloween” - “I hate living by the hospital/The sirens go all night/I used to joke that if they woke you up/Somebody better be dying”

E - Shooting Star - “So bad, so far/You made me sad/Shooting star/You're distant and cold/And a sight to behold/Everybody just sighs”

E - Satellite - “When they call it a lover's moon, the satellite/'Cause it acts just like lovers do, the satellite/A burned-out world you know/Staying up all night/The satellite”

E - Everything Reminds Me of Her - “Why are you staring into outer space, crying?/Just because you came across it and lost it”

P - Chinese Satellite - “Took a tour to see the stars/But they weren't out tonight/So I wished hard on a Chinese satellite” - “Sometimes, when I can't sleep/It's just a matter of time before I'm hearing things” b- “Instead, I look at the sky and I feel nothing/You know I hate to be alone/I want to be wrong”

E - Coast to Coast - “Still you're keeping me around/'Til I finally drag us both down (Gonna drag us both down)”

E - Little one - “The moonlight tonight/Seems to belong to me” - “One more/Little one, I love you”

E - Coming up Roses - “The moon is a sickle cell/It'll kill you in time” “While the moon does its division/You're buried below”

E - Everything Means Nothing to Me - “At attention, looking backward in a pool of water/Wishes with a blue songbird on his shoulder/Who keeps singing over everything”

E - Pretty Mary K (Other Version) - “oh Mary K, I can see your face/down there in the waves, painted and erased/but I know it's just a reflection of the moon”

P - Moon song - (52) “You asked to walk me home/But I had to carry you” - (53) “And if I could give you the moon/I would give you the moon” - (54) “You are sick and you're married/And you might be dying” - (55/56) “And you pushed me in/And now my feet can't touch the bottom of you” “But you're holding me like water in your hands/When you saw the dead little bird”

E - New Disaster - “Everybody is the same in this long no-win game/Where every new blood/Gets time to become resigned” - “Until everyone knows that your smile is just a ghost/The ghost of your smile was seen on a body in the park”

P - Savior Complex - “Baby, you're a vampire/You want blood and I promised” - “All the bad dreams that you hide/Show me yours, I'll show you mine”

E - Oh well, Ok - “If you get a feeling next time you see me/Do me a favor and let me know/Cause it's hard to tell, it's hard to say 'oh well, Ok'”

E - Last Call - “You're a tongueless talker/You don't care what you say”

E - Angel in the Snow - “Only a cold still life/ that fell down here to lay beside you”

P - ICU - (58) “But I feel something when I see you now/I feel something when I see you” - (59) “I hate your mom/I hate it when she opens her mouth/It's amazing to me/How much you can say/When you don't know what you're talking about” - “laying down on the lawn” “if you’re a work of art/I’m standing too close/I can see the brush strokes”

E - Happiness / The Gondola Man - “What I used to be/Will pass away and then you'll see/That all I want now/Is happiness for you and me”

E - Whatever (Folk Song in C) - “Whatever you're doing now would probably suit me fine/If you're all done, like you said you'd be/What are you doing hanging out with me?”

E - Big Ballad of Nothing - “You can do what you want to whenever you want to/You can do what you want to there's no one to stop you”

P - Graceland too - “Said she knows she lived through it to get to this moment” - “Whatever she wants (Whatever you want)”

E - Bottle up and Explode “Bottle up and go/I can make it outside”

E - A Distorted Reality is Now a Necessity to be Free - “God knows why my country don't give a fuck” - “Shine on me baby, because it's raining in my heart”

E - Alphabet Town - “Alphabet City is haunted”

P - I Know The End - “There's no place like my room” - “To some America First rap country song” “Driving out into the sun/Let the ultraviolet cover me up”- “I'll find a new place to be from/A haunted house with a picket fence”

[jasontoddiefor]

Title: infinitely varied Ship: obikin Summary: Sometimes your husband decides to develop an artificial intelligence capable of free choice and something called a soul and succeeds in the middle of a Thursday night. Or, more concretely: he's in the middle of succeeding because said intelligence first has to learn how to speak.Also known as Obi-Wan and Anakin teach a tiny program called A.H.S.O.K.A. how to be something more than lines of code via the power of linguistics. AN: Happy birthday @ghostwriterofthemachine

Language is a process of free creation; its laws and principles are fixed, but the manner in which the principles of generation are used is free and infinitely varied. Even the interpretation and use of words involves a process of free creation.

Noam Chomsky

I.

Life was a query of expectations, margins on doorframes, bucket lists, first loves, broken hearts, and happy middles because only fools would settle for a happy ending when they had so many decades left to live. The thought never failed to bring a smile to Anakin’s face, no matter how frustrated, remembering the simple way Obi-Wan had proposed. There had been no fancy dinner, particularly stunning outing, or anything resembling outlandish romantic gestures. Anakin would have appreciated them because every act would have been colored by Obi-Wan’s love, but now, older and wiser than the rash youth who’s fallen in love at first heated debate, he preferred the way their proposal had actually gone down. A quiet Sunday morning, eating breakfast together on the sofa while the news droned in the background from Anakin’s old radio, a hesitant “I don’t need forever, but I want the present”.

And, well, for all his genius, Anakin could be a bit of an idiot sometimes, but not when it came to this.

Married life was interesting.

Somehow nothing changed, except also everything. They had bought a real house, moved out of their old apartment and made more compromises than Anakin had ever thought himself capable of, for they hadn’t been like fighting an uphill battle but dancing together. It had made him happy to paint the entrance hall in the shade of green Obi-Wan preferred if he got to paint the kitchen in the light blue he wanted.

Obi-Wan got the attic for his office where his antique book collection looked right at home, and Anakin got the basement where the hum of his servers and the generator powering them annoyed nobody else.

It was as close to white-picket-fence as it could be with two queer men, no kids, a bratty cat, and an anxious dog under one roof. His childhood self would be appalled to see how much Anakin, always the whirlwind, had settled. To a nine-year-old, Anakin probably looked very adult.

Anakin, however, did not feel very grown-up, banging his head against his desk in the middle of the night. Obi-Wan had gone to sleep hours ago, and so had Anakin until inspiration had struck and he’d snuck out of bed to return to his favorite project.

A.H.S.O.K.A may not be a child, but Anakin certainly could relate to exhausted parents when they complained about their children in endless repetitions. To this day, Anakin didn’t know why his mother figured it would be great parenting to encourage her WarGames obsessed kid to dig into the world of artificial intelligence when WOPR nearly started a nuclear war, but he’d forever remain thankful.

Or, he’d resume being thankful when he could finally get A.H.S.O.K.A to learn. He’d rewritten her code a thousand times. It was his ever-constant companion, from his first awful-looking early 2000s website to its current incarnation. A.H.S.O.K.A could solve simple logic puzzles, given that he fed her enough data. Her solutions to tasks could be downright hilarious, but they were not enough. He wanted her to be smarter, better, capable of gaining true understanding.

Perhaps, it was a dream for the future and not a Thursday night.

Anakin didn’t have any work tomorrow morning as he worked as a freelancer, so he could afford to pull an all-nighter. But his dear husband had planned a nice afternoon for them, so Anakin should call it a night or a morning as a glance at the clock told him.

Staring at the many lines of code again, Anakin sighed and leaned back in his chair and took another sip of his by-now cold tea. Obi-Wan would definitely complain that Anakin had snatched his favorite mug once he got up and couldn’t find it in the kitchen. Anakin had bought it at the last linguistic convention Obi-Wan had taken him to.

Language is a process of free invention, it read in delicate cursive before the rest of the quote disassembled in pure chaos.

Huh.

Now there was a thought. Anakin got out of his chair and left the basement, haunted by fixed principles and infinite combinations. Up in the attic, carrying Obi-Wan’s computer downstairs again, Anakin thought on interpretations and free creations. He was as giddy and nervous as he’d been on the morning of his wedding day, which had started similarly early. Connecting Obi-Wan’s computer, and more importantly, the priced result of his thesis, to Anakin’s server felt a little like unwrapping birthday presents.

language_acquisition_prediction.exe

Enter.

II.

Obi-Wan was not surprised when he woke to an empty bed. Anakin had a habit of suddenly pulling all-nighters or getting up early before the sun even thought of rising. Given that he couldn’t smell breakfast yet, Obi-Wan deduced that Anakin had pulled an all-nighter again. He slowly crawled out of bed to avoid disturbing Artoo and Threepio sleeping to his feet. Obi-Wan was pretty sure he shared his bed more often with his pets than he did with his husband.

He walked down the stairs to the ground level and went by the kitchen to prepare himself a cup of tea. To his displeasure, Obi-Wan couldn’t find his favorite mug and so had to settle for another. After another thought, he decided to make a second one for Anakin, lavender this time so Anakin would hopefully crash after breakfast. He put both mugs on a small tray together with a couple tomatoes. Obi-Wan usually wasn’t one for eating a full breakfast on workdays – that was the influence of Anakin and his mother’s kitchen – but he was the expert in smalltime snacks. With both in hand, he walked down the second flight of stairs, down to the basement. As expected, he found Anakin at his desk, clinging to what was bound to be a cold cup, staring intensely at his screens, which were running one program or another.

“Good morning,” Obi-Wan greeted him and kissed Anakin’s cheek.

“Mo-orning,” Anakin replied, a yawn interrupting him halfway. “Wait, what time is it?”

“Eight,” Obi-Wan said. “How long have you been up?”

“Uuuh.” Obi-Wan didn’t need to see Anakin’s face to know the answer. “Did you even go to sleep?”

“I did sleep for a while!” Anakin argued. “But then I had an idea, I mean, look at this!”

Obi-Wan gave the screens a closer look. Despite common misconceptions, he was not technically illiterate. Privately, he blamed the fact that Anakin was quite well known for his tech know-how and Obi-Wan tended to talk more about literature given that he was filling in as a lecturer in the British Lit. department. Nevertheless, Obi-Wan had gotten his professorship with a program he’d written, and the code currently displayed on the screens looked very similar to a section that had given him stress nightmares. “Is that my thesis?” he asked.

“Yes, sorta, partially?” Anakin replied. “I kind of took it apart a lot and maybe corrupted it a bit, but that’s not the important part! Look what she’s doing with it.”

She could only refer to one person, intelligence. There were a few constants in their life, their new house the most recent one, and Ahsoka was probably the longest. Obi-Wan didn’t know why Anakin hadn’t set her aside already, he was happy enough to leave other started-never-finished projects lying around, but the last time he’d even just suggested such, Anakin had looked heartbroken.

Obi-Wan looked at the screen Anakin was pointing at and began to read.

script input: inhibition auditory input 1 designation skyguy: /ˌɪn.ɪˈbɪʃ.ən/ auditory input 2 designation professor: /ˌɪn.hɪˈbɪʃ.ən/ analysis: mismatch diagnosis: outstanding

script input: better auditory input 1 designation skyguy: /ˈbet̬.ɚ/ auditory input 2 designation professor: /ˈbet.ər/ analysis: mismatch diagnosis: rhoticism? query: define

The text continued for a while, though apparently Ahsoka only picked out the mismatched parts in her analysis.

“Is that ‘Must have done something right’?” Obi-Wan asked, the connection between the words suddenly starting to make sense.

“Yes!” Anakin grinned. “I wasn’t quite sure how to teach her sounds properly because I hadn’t equipped her with a sound analysis program before and I figured that if babies just learn by listening to their parents, Ahsoka could learn by listening to us.”

“So you fed her audio of us singing?” Obi-Wan wasn’t sure whether to be impressed, confused, or just plain tired but decided to settle on confusion for now and let the course of the conversation determine where they’d end up.

“That too, but I actually just started by playing old voice messages. I figured getting her used to just one phonetic inventory would be enough for now. Honestly, for the first hour, I wasn’t even sure whether that would be of any use because she had no symbols to connect the sounds to, and I thought using the IPA might bias her.”

Because, of course, Anakin never deleted any of Obi-Wan’s voice messages and just kept them on his phone. The fact that he just glossed over it as if it weren’t anything special either made Obi-Wan smile.

“It’s cute that you think we have the same inventory,” Obi-Wan commented. “But continue. You just let her listen to sounds and then? Don’t tell me you gave her written texts.”

Anakin rolled his eyes and confirmed another one of Ahsoka’s queries before answering. “No, I gave her the IPA then and let her listen to the full inventory and then analyze which ones we use.”

That made enough sense. Obi-Wan was reasonably sure it was a great deal more complicated than Anakin was lying it out right now, but it was still within the realm of possible and not downright sci-fi. There were enough programs that could analyze speech and filter out patterns, recognize even emotions and tone. Feeding data to a computer wasn’t too different from the way babies learned, though, as far as Obi-Wan knew from talking to people with children, they didn’t like their progeny being compared to lines of code.

“And you accomplished this by feeding my thesis program, which is meant to predict the language acquisition of children, to Ahsoka?”

“Yes, that, uh, happened more or less,” Anakin said, his nose scrunched up just so that Obi-Wan knew he wasn’t certain. “I’m pretty sure I like, wrote some of it down. Not all of it because I knocked out at like 4 a.m., which resulted in pretty interesting inquiries on the great vowel shift.”

Obi-Wan froze. “She’s asking about the great vowel shift?”

There was a difference in the size of the Atlantic between analyzing sounds and recognizing a six-hundred-year-old change in pronunciation.

“Not really,” Anakin said. “She just noticed the patterns? And had inquiries? We’ve been following up on it since, mostly by also giving her written text, but I think that might have backfired and confused her a bit. I’m thinking of synching up the input with a visible feed so she’d learn to associate an actual object with the sound, but I’m not sure whether that wouldn’t just lead to her matching data instead of actually learning its relevance. Can teach an AI what an apple looks like, sounds like, tastes like, but that doesn’t mean you can teach it what an apple is and all that.”

Anakin smiled impishly, and unfortunately, despite his generally messy appearance, Obi-Wan still thought he was handsome. “Please don’t cite my book back at me like that.”

Closing his eyes for a moment and pinching his nose, Obi-Wan tried to focus. This was not how he expected to start his free day. He needed to wake up and possibly grab his notes to sort out this mess. This almost made him wish the car was still wrecked and Anakin would spend all his free time fixing that. “Did you have to start her on English of all languages?”

Anakin was fluent in two other romance languages; it would have been much easier to deal with a French AI than an English one. Sighing, Obi-Wan looked at Ahsoka’s latest question and promptly frowned.

script input: bear auditory input: /beər/ match found: bare analysis: mismatch diagnosis: failed word formation query: bear = bare? query: deletion >bare<?

“How long has she been doing that?” Obi-Wan asked.

“Doing what— oh, that’s new.”

So Ahsoka had jumped from matching sounds to text to comparing sound to words and then referencing those words against one another. That was a logical step, but also a step Obi-Wan wasn’t quite sure she should be doing without prompting.

“She thinks bear and bare are related because they have the same sound. Didn’t really expect that turn of events. Should I show her those are two different words?”

“Does she even know what a word is yet?” Obi-Wan asked in turn.

“No.”

“Then teach her what a word is first— after breakfast. I want your pancakes.”

“You never want pancakes on a Friday.”

“My husband also never decided to rope me into teaching an artificial intelligence morphology before.”

Obi-Wan needed a proper meal for this. He could talk to his students on an empty stomach, but he could not deal with the latest brand of Skywalker insanity without something sweet first.

“I haven’t—”

Ever the negotiator, Obi-Wan decided to shut Anakin up with a kiss. “After breakfast.”

Ahsoka’s many questions could wait for an hour.

[xwing-baby]

Living The Dream (Javier Peña x f!Reader)

For #WriterWednesday hosted by @autumnleaves1991-blog​

Summary: A new house, dog and a baby on the way, Javier’s life couldn’t get any more perfect... its a dream come true.

Word count: 1.6k (good things come in small packages)

Warnings: Angst (cus duh), blood and injury description, mentions of pregnancy, dog death, hardly edited.

Masterlist

—

A tiny little house in the country, with a dog and a child on the way, was not how Javier thought his year would end but he wouldn’t change it for the world.

In the chaotic and dangerous life he led he never thought he would settle for more than two minutes let alone marry someone. You’d snuck up on him, coming out of nowhere to drag him into domesticity. Drag is the wrong word because he willingly went despite how much he pretended to drag his feet. He fell into it comfortably, he was even the one to suggest the house in the first place. You were happy in his apartment in Bogotá but Javier traded you a dog and you couldn’t say no.

A house, a girl, a dog. All he had ever wanted. Everything he swore he did not deserve but he could not imagine anything else now. Everything felt a little more manageable when he could come home to you. His own little oasis away from all the devils that haunted him in Bogotá or Medellín .

Javier planned to show Steve the new house on the drive back into Bogotá . You’d moved in a few weeks ago and everything was basically unpacked now, Javi was desperate to show off to his partner and could barely wipe the smile from his face as he pulled in.

The house was an old farmhouse, covered in iconic white plaster and red tile. The surrounding farm land had been sold off years ago, but left the house with a sizable garden around it to do whatever you wanted. There was enough for the baby to happily grow up and play in when the time came, for now the dog just chased rats through the long grass.

It was a mess when you bought it, but you were handy enough to get on with decorating and fixing up holes in walls while Javier was away working. He loved that part. Though he never admitted it, he always worried about you when you were working in the city. He never knew where you were until you came home. It was a lot easier to keep you safe, in his mind, with you at the house all day. You had done a fantastic job. For someone who claimed to have never even painted a wall before, the house was looking nice. It was becoming a home.

He called your name as he entered expecting to hear your music floating through the house. Instead he was met with silence.

“Must be asleep,” Javi said to Steve, “Pregnancies kicking her ass already,”

“Still can’t believe you’re gunna be a dad, man,” Steve clapped him on the shoulder, “I’ll get Connie to give y’all some baby books when she comes over,”

The two men chatted about the house, the baby, and everything else that had once seemed so out of the question for Javier but was now commonplace. He pulled beers from the fridge, cracking each open before sliding it across the patio table to sit and enjoy in the sunshine. They didn’t have anything to get back to urgently. The stop was justified and needed.

“Where’s that mutt of yours?” Steve asked looking around. In the weeks before the house was liveable, Javi had kept the dog at the apartment and used the Murphy’s as dog sitters whenever needed. Steve was excited to begin with but became a little more ambivalent when he ate his shoes one day. He was very happy when you moved him out to the house permanently.

“Must be with Y/n, they’re inseparable at the moment. In fact I will go check on her, she’ll be pissed if you leave without her seeing you,” Javier emptied his bottle and stood up. Steve chuckled and nodded.

Javier hadn’t been around the house as much as you had. Every time he had been you’d been close by making some kind of noise, a radio on somewhere in the house playing music with you singing along to it. He wasn’t used to it being quiet. It made the whole house seem so much bigger.

He walked upstairs to your bedroom, noticing the photos you had put up while he was gone. Simple wooden frames held photos from your wedding, photos of your family, and his favourite photo of you and him, taken by Steve candidly on the first day you had met. No one knew then just what would come from that one conversation but he was so happy it had led him here.

He pulled himself out of the fond memory and continued along the hall to your shared bedroom. The door was open, sunlight streaming in through half drawn curtains, the entire house was still. He smiled to himself, knowing that behind the door would be one of his favourite sights. He did not doubt that he would find Ringo, the dog, and you curled up on the bed. As much as Javi protested that the dog couldn’t sleep in your bed he knew you let him in as soon as he left in the morning.

Javier called your name again, listening carefully as he crept into the room. A full laundry basket sat on the floor, underwear and socks scattered the wooden floor boards. The drawers were open. You never left things untidy like that. Javier wasn’t the most untidy person in the world but you kept everything pristine. You wouldn’t just take a nap mid task. He frowned and touched the door to push it open.

“Peña!” Steve suddenly called urgently from downstairs. Javi knew that tone, instantly putting him on alert. You could wait for a moment. Javier stopped and turned back, leaving the door as it was and jogged back downstairs.

He came outside to see Steve, white as a sheet with grief written across his face.

“What is the-,” Javier started as he walked towards his partner. Steve brought him around the side of the house and Javi looked down and saw what was bothering him, “Oh fuck,” Javi swore the entire world stopped in that moment. Poor Ringo, shot in the head where he stood around the side of the house, just left without a care on the ground.

“I found him like that I swear! I am so sorry man,” Steve quickly explained. Javier wasn’t listening, couldn’t hear anything but alarm bells, his mind only thinking of one thing. You.

In a second Javier turned and ran back inside the house, picking up his gun from the kitchen counter where he’d left it. Steve followed quickly, keen on his heels. Javier knew exactly where to look, running up the stairs three at a time. He barrelled into your shared bedroom, praying that you were asleep and the dog was just an accident.

If his world had slowed at the sight of the dog the entire universe had stopped now. 

He couldn’t move his feet, mouth agape in total shock at the sight before him.

There was blood everywhere. On the bed, on the walls, even on the ceiling. Three bullets marked the walls behind the headboard. So much blood. He didn’t understand how he had not smelt it when he was outside a few moments earlier.

They had not been kind in your death, three shots to the stomach meant you did not die quickly. You were sprawled out on top of the sheets, still in your pyjamas. The white shirt you wore, Javi’s shirt, was now deep red, soaked through. There was a handprint dragged over the landline phone on your bedside table, glass and book knocked over in your effort to call for help. You hand still reached for it, so close yet so far.

Steve heard his cry of agony and ran in. He saw you, then Javi, and his heart sank. You were dead, there was nothing he could do now but he had to get Javier up. He pulled at his shirt trying to get him to move but was only met with violence as he ripped himself out of Steve’s grip away.

“Javi,”

“Javi,”

“Javier! Wake up!”

Javier’s eyes finally opened, his chest heaving and covered in sweat he was dazed for a moment before he finally looked at you. Your heart broke at the sight. He looked at you with such terror in his eyes, you didn’t have a chance to say anything before he grabbed you and pulled you in tight to his chest.

“It was just a dream,” You comforted him, “It’s okay,”

He took a deep but shaking breath, taking in the scent of your hair. He didn’t speak. Couldn’t. It felt so real.

Slowly, he let you go and sat up wiping his hands over his face to clear the tears on his cheeks. He looked around him. He was in his apartment, three am on the clock. There was no dog, no baby, no new house. No body. It was just a dream.

“Do you want to talk about it?” You asked, sitting up with him and putting a hand on his shoulder, lightly rubbing his warm skin. He shook his head.

“It was just a dream,” He said softly.

The reality was he couldn’t afford to give you that vulnerability yet. He couldn’t let you know just how much he liked you for exactly the reason his dream had shown him. He was dangerous to be around. If you stayed, while it would be nice for a while, someone would pull the rug out from underneath you both eventually. It could only end in disaster. He would rather keep you at a distance, emotionally at least, so when that day came it would maybe hurt a little less.

He settled back down again, pulled you closer with your head on his chest. He could have you for now, like this, and let his imagination run wild with ideas of a picket fence future. But, to protect you that was all it could ever be. A dream.

—

A/n: I don’t know what is wrong with me... I am sorry Javi one day I will write something nice for you but today is not that day.

tagging: @autumnleaves1991-blog @hunters-heathen @beskarbabs @wille-zarr​ @all-hallows-evie

[adie-dee]

Lies in the Lilies snippet

I ran my fingers through my ponytail, catching the bits of twigs and leaves that were still stuck in it. I still couldn’t believe the nerve of the driver of my last ride, thinking I would repay him for the lift with a quick blow job. But the look on his face as I’d bailed out of the car at 100 kilometres an hour had almost been worth my rough landing.

But with ten hours of hitchhiking and a three hour walk behind me, I was finally closing in on Cassilis.

Not that there was much here. Most of the houses, as sparse as they were, were nothing more than glorified tin sheds, the majority of which looked abandoned. It seemed pointless even thinking of it as a town; the whole place felt dead and forgotten. No wonder my parents thought Zia was dead. I couldn’t imagine anyone living here.

My phone chirped in my pocket. I pulled it out and opened the Maps notification, following its instruction to turn up the next dirt road. Large gum trees lined the road, their canopies blocking out the sun, and I shivered at the sudden temperature change. Overhead I could hear a helicopter, the noise loud enough that I was sure it was only just above the trees, and it was only when the noise faded into the distance that I realised I was holding my breath.

As I approached Zia’s driveway my heart started pounding. I shouldn’t be here. Mum was right, me confronting Zia was a terrible idea. I should have left it to her, like I said I would. But I was here now. This was what I wanted, what I’d worked so hard to discover, and I couldn’t turn back. I just needed to be cautious. If only I knew what caution looked like.

And I wasn’t sure whether I should be less or even more cautious when I saw what Zia’s home looked like. Because it wasn’t the scary, dilapidated building I’d been expecting.

The setting sun cast a rosy warmth over the pale grey weatherboards and clean white trim of the cottage, its surrounding picket fence, and the neat, lush garden. It seemed far too pretty for the evil mage that haunted my nightmares.

The gate that led to the path up to the house was even oiled, hardly making a sound when I pushed it open. I fixed my ponytail, retying it to trap the long white strands that had escaped, then took a couple of deep breaths and walked through.

The gravel path crunched under my sneakers as I headed towards the front door. I focused on the noise, hoping it would serve as a distraction from my desire to run away.

At the front door I paused, my finger hovering centimetres from the doorbell.

What was I meant to say once she answered the door? All my times daydreaming of this day had left me unprepared for this moment, especially because I’d never once considered Mum’s suggestion that Zia might just un-curse me to kill me. Making my curse last twenty years was surely to make me and my parents suffer; killing me two weeks early would surely only add to that pain.

But I was here, with or without backup, and the only answers I had a chance to gain were inside, so setting my nerves aside I pressed the button.

After a few minutes of waiting I pressed it again, listening out to hear if it was chiming inside. Nothing. I tried knocking on the door instead.

“Hello?” I called, when no one answered. “Are you there? It’s Beth—Bethany Norton? I was hoping we could talk?” I cringed at the sound of my voice. Confident, I reminded myself. You were meant to sound confident, not like a scared child.

I knocked once again, then shifted to the window next to the door to peer inside. All I could see past the glare of the low-angled sun was the lounge and a hallway to the back door. My heart sank. She wasn’t home. I’d travelled all this way, and the mage who’d upended my life barely after it started wasn’t even home.

[coconut-cluster]

The church bells used to ring in the morning. 

Roman remembered them clearly, even now, even after everything. He remembered waking up - always before Remus and their parents, sometimes before the sun rose - and eating breakfast on the porch, closing his eyes to feel the morning breeze brush his face, and in the distance, at six and noon on the dot, the bells would ring out from the church a few blocks away. It was an old church, with bells you had to manually pull ropes to play. The sound was almost haunting when the rest of the world was silent, but Roman liked the way it carried across rooftops to him; it was like a song played just for him, a way to know that no matter what, someone was out there ringing a bell to tell him a new day had begun, that everything would be alright.

But things hadn’t been alright for a while now - he didn’t need a song to know that. 

They hadn’t thought much of the floods when they started. Roman had no trouble recalling their casual dismissal; it was only near the coasts, after all. He and Remus made jokes about vacationing to kayak down the streets. And then they got worse, and then it was only near the oceans and nearby rivers, then only in the South, and then only, only, only- and then they were everywhere, and there was no ‘only’ anymore. He remembered the day he saw water trickling down their street despite the lack of rain for weeks; he’d turned to Remus and joked they could use those kayaks about now. In the end, he hadn’t really been wrong. 

The storms weren’t treated so lightly. Those started right in the middle of the country, and they almost fell victim to the same dismissal - they’re in tornado country, Roman’s mom had assured him when he frowned at the news report, it’s fairly common over there - until they started spreading farther and farther every night, impossible to ignore. The floods weren’t kind, but they weren’t disastrous for most, just a trash can floating down the street and, at worst, a car or two following behind, albeit the water damage in homes too low to avoid it. But the storms were a rude awakening. The thunder was loud, louder than any Roman had ever heard, and the lightning seemed to choose its targets with purpose: cars, houses, telephone poles. Roman remembered lying in bed late at night, listening to rain pound against the roof, counting seconds between the blinding flashes and deafening cracks. He remembered the night his father went to check the generator and Roman sang to himself as he waited for him to return. He didn’t. 

And then the storms stopped, seemingly at once. He remembered sitting in a blanket fort with Remus - a blanket fort, like they were ten again - and writing messages to each other on a notepad because their whispers couldn’t be heard over the rain, and then everything was quiet. They crawled out from between the draped blankets, staring at the windows, at the still world beyond them; their mom came running into the living room to pull the curtains wide, her face, scarred by creases of week-long worries, exultant as she watched the sun peek out from behind the clouds. Roman remembered padding down the sidewalk and studying the charred remains of trees and cars, of his old bike in the backyard and their picket fence. In the wake of the storm, their world was silent and burnt. 

They thought it ended there - the floods caused the storms, his mom had guessed, shrugging off Remus’ disbelieving scowls and Roman’s confused frowns. His mom always loved sunshine, and she was eager to just embrace its return. She dismissed their complaints of evening heat, of sweltering afternoon sun, of nights too warm to sleep in. She refused to leave when Roman and Remus told her it was getting worse; Roman remembered sitting in front of her one evening as she fanned herself and read one of her dime novels, begging her to come with them to their friend’s cabin in the north where they would be safer from the heat. He remembered Remus grabbing his arm and dragging him out to the car, remembered stifling his tears the whole drive because he couldn’t afford to be dehydrated, remembered a burning hope that his mom was at least happy when she went, happy in her sunshine. 

She wasn’t at home when they returned, and they’d had to return only a few weeks after arriving at the cabin - the temperatures up north went lower and lower as the days passed, and Patton had told them his little cabin just wasn’t prepared for that kind of cold. He’d be fine, he assured them, his parents had a house farther south that he could go to, but they needed to go back home and be safe. When they arrived, the house was empty. They didn’t talk about it. 

They didn’t talk about when the temperatures started dropping in their town, either. They just got towels and stuffed them between the floor and the doors, insulated the windows, gathered blankets and food and the space heaters from the shed. They hoped and prayed the cold wouldn’t last as long as the others - they weren’t sure they had the supplies to make it that long - but in the end, they just waited. Roman remembered being curled into a ball in a pile of blankets for hours, his legs and back cramping as he put his face between his knees in an effort to warm his frozen cheeks and nose. He and Remus were the lucky ones that time around; he heard crying from the streets one night, a night he’d never forget, howls of pain and anguish that led him to conclusions he hadn’t ever wanted to imagine.

When the cold passed, the relief never came. It was only fear, a trembling anticipation that gripped the heart and throat and held on tight, promising some vague terror just around the corner - but for a while, nothing came. Roman and Remus watched the skies, checked temperatures, listened at night for thunder or waves or an unimaginable plague to tap at their windows, but the world was quiet, peaceful again. Roman remembered almost feeling hopeful. 

And then, one day, he saw water trickling down the street, and he felt nothing at all. 

Weeks, months, years passed, and the cycle returned again and again. They knew not to question it anymore; no one had answers, and no one had time to find them in between storms and heat waves and frosts. Roman watched as his neighbors’ lights began to flicker off and stay off. Sometimes he’d hear crying in the night again - sometimes it was difficult to tell what was real or a memory - and it told him he and Remus were one step closer to being the only ones left, the only ones alive to watch for water or count the seconds or drive up north or seal the doors. He stopped listening to those cries at night. After a while, they stopped coming, anyway.

Now, here, today, it was morning. The neighborhood was silent - the city was silent, and deep down he knew it was because there was no one left to make a sound - and Roman had bundled himself up in a coat to fight the oncoming chill as he sat on his front porch. He remembered his mom watching him and Remus play with the neighborhood children from the same spot; he remembered waving to his elderly neighbor a few doors down as she watered flowers in the early afternoon; he remembered tossing soccer balls back to the boys who lived down the street; he remembered when he saw couples jogging together and people walking their dogs and kids riding their bikes down the sidewalks. He remembered when the world was bright and full of the sound of people living their lives. He hoped he never remembered this antithesis. 

And it’s there, as he’s sitting on his porch in the early morning, hoping for his memories to be full of song, that the church bells start ringing. 

[scarcrossedheartdust]

A Madness Shared By Two Siren Battle

Spoilers for A Madness Shared By Two. Under the cut TW for self harm mentions and blood

A haunting song filled the night air as most people slept. Brown eyes opened and without a second glance to the sleeping form next to him he started to head to the sound. It belonged to a red headed woman standing by the lake. "Hello Petey."

"Such a good boy Petey coming out here to see me. Although it pains me to know you're married now you won't be for long you'll be here with me. "

"Over my re-dead body bitch! Get your slutty hands the fuck away from him!" Her blue eyes looked and was met with a pair of icy blue eyes that didn't look too happy about being awake.

"Patrick?! You're supposed to be dead!"

"I am and I'm going to prove to you my song is stronger than yours!"

"So you really wanna battle a siren Pattycakes? You know what will happen and then Petey will be mine anyways."

"Don't call me that and don't call him that. I'm going to win this or die trying."

“You? You never liked to sing you’re too shy and you probably can’t sing but go ahead try.”

The both of them started belting out Hallelujah. Pete’s brown eyes were glazed over still and in his minds eye he saw blue eyes but who they belonged to he couldn’t quite place….

Halfway through Patrick’s knees started to wobble and fell down starting to vomit. “Give it up Pat you can’t beat a siren I don’t know how you’re back but I was the one that convinced Gerard to kill you so I COULD have Pete.”

Blue eyes flickered yellow before lighting up in angelic blue/white glow. “You just signed your own death certificate.” Wiping his mouth on the back of his hand Patrick started to sing again…although the song was different.

“It's all a game of this or that, now versus then

Better off against worse for wear

And you're someone who knows someone who knows someone I once knew

And I just want to be a part of this

The road outside my house is paved with good intentions

Hired a construction crew 'cause it's hell on the engine

And you are the dreamer and we are the dream

I could write it better than you ever felt it”

Pete’s hands started to twitch the image behind his minds eye started to develop. He still saw blue eyes but the red hair was fading and turning more strawberry blonde..

“So hum hallelujah, just off the key of reason

I thought I loved you, but it was just how you looked in the light

A teenage vow in a parking lot, 'til tonight do us part

I sing the blues and swallow them too”

 Pete was still by Ashlee’s side and she was singing too. Patrick knew battling a siren could make him sick..but he didn’t care this was for Pete the only anchor to this life he had…besides the kids which he wouldn’t have if not for Pete.

“My words are my faith, to hell with our good name

A remix of your guts, your insides x-rayed

And one day we'll get nostalgic for disaster

We're a bull, your ears are just a china shop

I love you in the same way, there's a chapel in a hospital

One foot in your bedroom and one foot out the door

Sometimes we take chances, sometimes we take pills

I could write it better than you ever felt it”

Patrick looked at Pete and he was still next to the skank. Patrick could feel the vomit rising in his throat again but yet he still sang..hoping the next part would get his husband back.

“Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelu-

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelu-

(Hum hallelujah, hum hallelujah, hum hallelujah, hum hallelujah)

A teenage vow in a parking lot, 'til tonight do us part

I sing the blues and swallow them too”

After the last line Patrick was keeled over in the bushes vomiting again. Gods it was worse than morning sickness he had with all the kids (well maybe not the twins) put together. When he felt a hand on his back he looked up and baby blues met wide eyed browns.

“Trick? You okay?”

“Yes and no.. I feel like shit but..you’re here. So that’s a plus.”

“HOW HOW COULD YOU CHOSE HIM OVER ME?! HE’S FAT AND UGLY! YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO BE MINE PETE!” She fired  an energy orb at the pair and Patrick’s eyes widened in his current state there wasn’t much he could do…

Before the energy orb could hit them an energy beam countered it. “Don’t you EVER EVER call him fat and ugly again. He’s perfect in every way. Selfless,beautiful and overall a perfect pure creature. He’s a lot stronger than you and he held back. He held back because he knows I don’t like to see him get consumed by his rage.” One of Pete’s arms was around Patrick the other outstretched where he had fired the energy beam from.

“Come on Petey come back to me.” She started her siren song again and once again brown eyes started to glaze over.  Patrick pale and blue eyes lacking their normal fire stood up.

“Really we’re doing this again? I beat you once I’ll do it again!”

“You can’t beat a siren..Tricky.”

“Watch me. “ Again he took a breath and shakily started to sing.

“Don't panic

No, not yet

I know I'm the one you want to forget

Cue all the love to leave my heart

It's time for me to fall apart

Now you're gone

But I'll be okay

Your hot whisky eyes

Have fanned the flames

Maybe I'll burn a little brighter tonight

Let the fire breathe me back to life

Baby, you were my picket fence

I miss missing you now and then

Chlorine kissed summer skin

I miss missing you now and then

Sometimes before it gets better

The darkness gets bigger

The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger

Oh, we're fading fast

I miss missing you now and then”

He wobbled and looked over at Pete whose eyes snapped back to normal at the sad melody. This was what Patrick and Pete always sang to each other when the other down.  

“Making eyes at this husk around my heart

I see through you when we're sitting in the dark

So give me your filth

Make it rough

Let me, let me trash your love

I will sing to you every day

If it will take away the pain

Oh and I've heard you got it, got it so bad

'Cause HE IS the best you'll never have

Baby, you were my picket fence

I miss missing you now and then

Chlorine kissed summer skin

I miss missing you now and then

Sometimes before it gets better

The darkness gets bigger

The person that you'd take a bullet for is behind the trigger

Oh, we're fading fast

I miss missing you now and then“

Tears pricked at the corner of Patrick’s eyes as he finally started to collapse forward. He would’ve hit the ground if Pete hadn’t dashed forward to catch him. “Okay that’s it we’re done here. Stop trying to lure me away from him…he needs me and I need him. We’re soulmates you stupid cunt. You could’ve asked me out in school but you didn’t you were a bitch then and you’re a bigger bitch now. Having a pretty face and voice doesn’t mean you can lure anyone in. Patrick’s got a PRETTIER face and ANGELIC voice and he doesn’t need it to seduce me. He does that by being himself.”

From Pete’s arms Patrick groaned. “Shut up..I do not.”

With a fast shimmer they were back home and Pete carried Patrick up the stairs. “Pete..baby you don’t have to do this I can walk.”

“Nope absolutely not you exhausted yourself in that battle.”

“I absolutely did not.”

“You’re being stubborn and won’t admit it.”

Patrick pouted but didn’t protest when Pete laid him down in the bed especially when he laid next to him.

“Now lets go back to sleep especially since I know how much you hate being up early.”

A kiss to his nose and a low grumble that sounded like shut up as Patrick snuggled into his arms.

Patrick wasn’t sure how long he was asleep for when he heard it…the haunting siren call. Blue eyes glazed over as he untangled himself from Pete and slowly started to head towards the source of the noise.

Pete was a much lighter sleeper than his husband and felt him get up. He assumed maybe Patrick was going to the bathroom or maybe to check on Mycah. But either way he shouldn’t be walking alone..he was still weak from his battle with the siren. And that’s when Pete could just faintly hear it….that bitch was going after Patrick..

When Pete had found them Ashlee was singing by her lake and Patrick…Patrick was crucified against the tree..blue-silver blood dripping from his wrists and his head hanging down against his chest. “WHAT THE EVER LOVING FUCK DID YOU DO TO HIM?”

“Who says I did it darling? I’m just singing my song..for a lonely broken heart…yours.”

“My heart isn’t broken..its filled with rage that I’m going to kill yo—“ He was cut off  by Patrick’s shrill screech as she sliced her nails down his arm causing more of the blue-silver blood to flow.

“Come on Petey you’re a vampire aren’t you and this one..he’s the head white angel how  tempting that must be for you. I promise I’ll take care of you just come kill him like a good vampire.”

Vampires were naturally drawn to white angel blood it was like catnip to a cat to them. Patrick wasn’t just a white angel..he was the head white angel so his scent was one million times more alluring than any of his followers. Throw in that Patrick was well Pete’s other half and it was infinity more times alluring than any scent in the world. Pete’s eyes flashed red and his fangs extended. He ended up biting his own hand first. “I won’t hurt him… I hate drinking his blood. Leave him alone…I’ll go with you.”

“Pete…no..” Patrick’s eyes were becoming more focused and the cuts on him had vanished. Pete didn’t know his husband could heal without using his hands. He did however know how strong Patrick was so he wasn’t surprised to see him break free of his binds once his cuts were healed. “I can beat her I just need the energy…I need you.”

“You’ve tried Tricky and you failed. You gave in so NICELY when I was torturing you earlier.”

Patrick frowned as he saw what had transpired before Pete got there.

“You came I didn’t think I could lure a celestial being such as you..usually it’s creatures of the night. We’re going to have some fun before I kill you.” 

Next thing Patrick knew he was crucified against the tree tight wire digging into his wrist causing the blood to start dripping.  The pain was excruciating and it reminded Patrick of his past..his dark past that almost cost him Pete. 

“Thinking of him? Don’t worry he’ll come then he’ll be mine.”

“I don’t care what you do to me…leave him alone.”

“Whats on your mind Tricky? Mean little ole me could fuck your mind better than Gerard ever could..or what about your dear old parents?”

Instantly Patrick froze and went completely rigid. Memories of curling in the corner hiding while adults screamed saying magic was make believe and to grow up to be a real man not some fag waving a wand flashed into his head. Pale white hands covered his ears and he started to rock back and forth.

Pete was at a loss..he had never seen Patrick like this…what did this devil woman do to him? “WHAT DID YOU DO TO HIM?”

“Nothing..yet he’s weak Petey how can you expect him to protect you?”

“I don’t need him to protect me! Leave him alone!” 

“Why? You’re going to kill him.” With a few words a wall of water rose up and lifted Patrick in the air before freezing so it imprisoned him. Ashlee hopped up to him cutting his shirt down with her nails and then dragging her nails over his right shoulder where the tattoo of Pete’s name was.  Blue eyes opened wide and he started to scream again thrashing against his icy binds as the ice dug into him and more blood started to pour out of previously healed wounds.

Pete followed her because he needed to wake Patrick up there was no way he could win this fight alone.“Patrick! Patrick wake up I’m here…I’m right here Trick… and I am so so so sorry.”

“He can’t hear you. As far as he knows he’s this scared little teenager again that was hopelessly in love with his best friend that was just out of his reach.  So since that’s true..I’ll make sure to erase his memory of you permanently.” She finally reached down to his left hand where streaks of blue-silver blood trailed and almost helped lubricate his ring finger allowing her to pull off the silver band.

When Pete saw her remove Patrick’s wedding band the bloodlust in his subsided but the anger rose to a fever pitch. He would never forget the day him and Patrick got married. Bathed in the warm glow of Patrick’s angel palace a place that Pete by all regards didn’t belong. But Patrick was firm and said for the light to exist it needed a little dark.  That was what was engraved on those wedding bands. Alongside the date and a brief signature.  He remembered dipping Patrick all the way down to kiss him in front of all their friends and how Patrick despite turning a beautiful shade of pink (it clashed with the all white that he was wearing) allowed it and even was the one to attempt to deepen it. The way they had waltzed around to their wedding song was magical. 

Pete was at a loss. He didn’t know how to save Patrick. If roles were reversed Patrick would’ve had him safely in his arms by now.Even when Pete was named head vampire Patrick didn’t bat an eyelash about going to the vampire kingdom with him for the coronation ceremony.Even though it put him in extreme danger given how attractive a white angel’s blood was to a vampire. But no Patrick this pure and beautiful selfless creature walked confidently hand in hand with Pete and smiled when Pete was told it was him, he was the new head vampire.  At that moment he finally felt worthy of Patrick. Even though he was older than Patrick he always felt like Patrick was out of reach, he was smart, he was strong and he could command the white angel army easier than he could fall asleep. Pete sought out Patrick’s advice about ruling a species and Patrick just shrugged and gave him that smile with those blue eyes. “Just be yourself.”

Ashlee had raised the prison even higher and sent a wall of water crashing into Pete knocking him back down to the ground.Fists clenched after looking down his left wrist where Patrick’s name was inked into his skin forever.  Using his super ability to jump fifty feet in the air he landed on the ice prison where Ashlee was still clawing her nails into Patrick who wasn’t screaming anymore and was just staring straight ahead like he was…oh god he couldn’t be.

“Get your fucking disgusting hands off him and I won’t punch you hard enough to make your ancestors feel it.”

“Awe but Petey….I’ll comfort you..sorry for the loss of your sweet sweet husband but face it. He was a little geek and you two just didn’t fit together. You’re better off without him—“ The punch when it came was hard and Pete felt like he was borderline going feral.  “Give me his wedding band RIGHT NOW OR I’LL TEAR YOU APART PIECE BY PIECE.”

The next bunch of events happened so fast it was a blur. The two of them were wrestling and Pete had to admit she was strong considering his super human strength. Dear gods Patrick couldn’t really be dead could he?

Her sharp claws dug down his arms and he screamed at the pain and slashed at her with his own claws.

“Ice carcerem!” Now Ashlee was imprisoned in an ice prison just like she had done to Patrick and Pete was grateful he remembered a few spells from his school days.

“Now I am going to tear you apart limb by limb. You’ll pay for what you did to him. I don’t know how to destroy a siren but I’ll figure it out!”

“You? You were too busy banging Gabe to pay attention how did you ever pass scho—“

Pete wondered what made her stop talking even as he pressed his hand to skin trying to stop the bleeding. If he had fed he’d be self healing but he hadn’t eaten in awhile.

“Oh, the things that you do in the name of what you love

You were doomed but just enough

You were doomed but just enough

If you were church, whoo

I'd get on my knees, yeah

Confess my love, I'd know where to be

My sanctuary, you're holy to me

If you were church, yeah, I'd get on my knees

I love the world but I just don't love the way it makes me feel

Got a few more fake friends

And it's getting hard to know what's real

And if death is the last appointment

Then we're all just sitting in the waiting room

I am just a human trying to avoid my certain doom”’

Pete heard the haunting melody and it was a call like another siren…dear gods Ashlee was bad enough.

“I didn’t know there was another siren nearby…but still they can’t have you. I claimed you first Petey..” She started to wail as the mystery siren’s song changed to something darker…

“All the writers keep writing what they write

Somewhere another pretty vein just dies

I've got the scars from tomorrow and I wish you could see

That you're the antidote to everything except for me

A constellation of tears on your lashes

Burn everything you love

Then burn the ashes

In the end everything collides

My childhood spat back the monster that you see

My songs know what you did in the dark

So light em up…ignis anguis!”

That last bit was not a song..it was a spell..a spell Pete remembered being cast the year they all got snowed in at the magic school.  The fire snake wrapped slowly around Ashlee’s ankles.  Her ice prison was melting and the collision of heat and steam made it hard to see. 

Pete sighed softly and just started to sing softly trying to comfort himself for dealing with the after math of this battle.

“The tombstones are waiting

They were half engraved

They knew it was over”

Pete didn’t know how he was supposed to deal with losing Patrick again…

“Just didn't know the date”

He jumped about ten feet in the air when he heard someone singing with him.Was it the siren that had helped him? Were there good sirens? Maybe this one didn’t attract married men…so maybe Pete was safe, for the moment.

“And I cast a spell over the West

To make you think of me

The same way I think of you

This is a love song in my own way

Happily ever after below the waist”

And now the siren’s voice sounded familiar and Pete slapped himself. It wasn’t a siren’s voice it was an angel’s voice…his angel’s voice and he barely had time to process that when he felt lips on his. 

“How did you get out of that mess? I thought you were dead!” Not caring about covering each other in their own blood the pair found themselves in a vice grip hug. “We’re connected love as long as you live I’ll find a way back to you. Plus well I can heal myself you know. Now then.”

Pete watched as Patrick stood up and faced Ashlee. Despite being tortured he stood strong. “I believe you have my wedding band give it back and maybe I’ll remove the flames. Tell me Ashlee am I more than you bargained for yet?”

“Hey Trick? I’m glad you’re okay but I can’t get my arm to stop bleeding think you could?”

“Oh God…I’m sorry Pete..but I’m not going to heal you. You’re going to heal yourself.”

“You know I can’t…OH!”

Brown met blue (although Patrick’s eyes were more green from using his angelic siren powers) and Pete saw Patrick’s plush pink lips curve into a smirk. He walked behind his husband and held him by his waist nuzzling into his neck. “I still feel bad…”

“Sush and just bite me.”

“Trick baby..don’t you think you’ve lost enough blood..”

“I swear to fuck Peter if you don���t bite me…trust me…I know my body…and I need you.”

If there was one thing Pete couldn’t refuse it was when Patrick’s voice went low and raspy. It was like his voice dripped of sex,which right now Pete reminded himself it probably was.

~#~

Having retrieved his wedding band back from Ashlee Patrick smirked looking at Pete. “Well put it on and kiss me.”

“Babe you really want me to kiss you? My mouth is tainted with your blood and my own.” The ring was slid onto Patrick’s ring finger and he sighed softly however…

“I don’t care kiss me now so help me—mmmph!”

His hands tangled in Pete’s hair and their hips crashed against each other’s before Patrick broke the kiss leaving Pete confused. “Wait here..I’m gonna make sure she can’t bother us anymore.”

Patrick couldn’t jump as high as Pete could but he could fly and was up at the top of Ashlee’s slowly melting ice prison the clashing of his and Pete’s fire and ice spells. “Well well well what have we here?”

Ashlee looked at him and gasped. “You…you look different…you’re not fat like you were in school and you’re glowing.”

“I know and I haven’t been for awhile. You were just too blind to see.  I’m going to sing you one more song and then we’re done.”

“So wear me like a locket around your throat I’ll weigh you down,I’ll watch you choke you look so good in blue.” Closing his eyes and repeating in his head that this was for him and Pete he locked his lips on hers letting the combination of the mixture of his and Pete’s blood flow into the open cut on her lips. He pulled back smirking the spell was complete.

The fire started to rise and she started to screech. “What did you do to me?”

“Killed you with the power of love sweetheart now if you don’t mind I’m washing my mouth with soap and going home to bang my husband until the sun rises. Toodles!”

"See Ashlee i would say thanks for the memories even though they weren't that great but Pete tastes like you only sweeter...much much sweeter."

Once he was back on the ground with Pete no words were exchanged just  strong embrace. After a moment Patrick spoke up in his low, husky voice. “Can I take you home Pete?”

“Do you have to ask Trick?”

With a flash of blue they disappeared just as Ashlee turned to dust.

Pete was laying in his and Patrick’s bed naked minus his boxers and glanced at the bathroom door where he could see his husband also naked minus his boxers and undershirt. “Trick…you’re going to scrub your teeth away you’ve brushed them about twenty times. Not to mention how many times you washed your face..”

“I DON’T CARE THAT WAS VILE!”

[404-unfoundbymystudents]

I see people being like "trans (and lgb+) ppl have all the rights they need, it fine"

But like. My state currently requires a $150k surgery to change my gender marker on birth certificate, a surgery with a 2 year waitlist and a surgeon in another state. It is a three stage surgery with each one having a 30-ish percent risk of needing revision.

The state is voting at the end of the year to change this, and require the same thing as the federal requirement for passports (doctor signs to say this person has recieved gender drugs, or cannot receive gender drugs but is whatever gender).

But to apply to teach at a state school in my state, I need to provide either birth cert or passport. Okay that's fine, get my passport and use that.

But. But I also need to provide any change of name form, and any previous names. Which is fair for police checks (even though my working with children card remains the same number no matter what my name; even though my licence has both names in the system) but is just there on the same form as 'contact details', 'teaching areas', and 'preffered name'.

The application form says they can share my information with police, the department of ed, current and previous employers, and referees. What information? Are they going to out me to my current boss, who knows I am gay but doesn't know I am trans? Are they going to send this form in its entirety to schools, outing me to future employers.

And what can I even do? I can't refuse to put the names. It's a document that is used as part of a police check - I can't lie.

And then, I realised. I move out of home at the end of the year. Does the rental agreement want my previous name? Do they want my birth cert for ID? Applying for a house loan?

I had to change super companies three years ago because they refused to change my name without a change of name certificate, which I did not have (I was given the option of a birth cert or a change of name cert, and I took the former). I've got $5k in unclaimed super because this company would not accept I had changed my name, despite the department of transport being fine with my licence, the tax office being fine with my tax number.

This isn't something that's going to go away. In forty years time I will still be haunted by the name I was born with. When I am old, I can have the honour of outing myself to the retirement home when I buy my little white picket fence house in amongst the bowls club and VR system.

(and the other thing you could provide as evidence of name change was a marriage certificate. If you're gay and/or your partner has an obviously gendered name that indicates a same-sex pairing, out yourself on that too. It may be a lower position at the oppression Olympics, but you still get to be there)

(and yes, I know. It could be worse. I have supportive family and friends, I had top surgery, I'm white, I pass, I've only had transphobia directed at me twice and it's was only verbal. But this still fucking sucks ass, and it's never going to go away)

[ladyanput]

Seeing Red Ch.6

Warning: There’s a bit of gore in this chapter, as well as mentions of sexual abuse and suicide. 

Eva awoke to the smell of something floral. She opened her eyes and caught sight of Jason setting a tray on his coffee table, a delicate tea set and a small plate of biscuits on it. When he caught sight of her, he gave her a smile and made his way to her, giving her a small kiss on the forehead. 

“I take it you slept well..” He murmured against her skin, grinning as he felt her arms wrap around his neck. His hands slid to her naked waist, pulling her body close as he began to pepper her neck with soft kisses. When he pulled back, he took in the sight of Eva, of her sleep messed hair, the traces of sleepiness in her eyes, and how amazing she looked in his bed. “I thought you’d like some tea this morning.”

“Mmm, is that what I’m smelling?” Eva purred softly as she slid out of the bed, picking up a discarded shirt of Jason’s off of the floor and tugged it on. She let Jason guide her over to his sofa, where he handed her a cup of the fragrant floral tea. “Well, Jason, I must say, you have amazing tastes.” 

Jason smiled at her in return, silently thankful for Alfred for his help in the tea selection. 

“I am going to be heading down to the training room this morning. Me and the others agree that since Cat Boy managed to kick our asses, we needed to maybe try some different types of training.” 

“Keep in mind, he was using that weird magic.” Eva pointed out, risking a glance over at where Trixx was resting, on a soft pillow on Jason’s dresser. “I probably would have been killed without Trixx there to help me. He’s a little cutie.”

“More cute than me?” Jason wriggled his eyebrows at her, causing her to grin in return.

“I’d say so.” At his stunned expression, she burst out into laughter, her shoulders shaking and her head thrown back. “I’d say you’re more rugged than cute, Jay.” 

“Well, I guess that’s an improvement. But since you’ve wounded my fragile ego, I say your punishment is that you’ve got to come work out with us down in the training center.” He took a sip of his own tea, making a slight grimace when he tasted it. He was really an Earl Grey kind of guy, but he’d be willing to deal with this stuff at least for the day. 

“Fine. But it’s a pity, I was hoping to go over the whole ‘Miraculous drama’ with Trixx, since I’m basically in the dark about the entire thing.” At Jason’s look, she gave a slight shake of her head. “I’m not asking Marinette, she’s in no way, shape, or form ready for that kind of stuff. I’ll wait until she’s.. Processed all that’s happened.”

The two were then silent for a long time, sipping tea and nibbling on the biscuits, enjoying the sight of the sun rising through the large bedroom windows, casting the room in a warm colour. Trixx sat up and stretched with a soft yawn, lazily flying over to his Chosen and taking his seat on her shoulder.

“Good morning, Trixx, how’d you sleep?” She nuzzled the little fox, who returned the gesture quite eagerly. “You’re looking quite well rested.” 

“I haven’t slept like that in a long time. I guess having such an amazing kit has its perks.” Trixx eagerly took the biscuit that Eva offered and took a big bite out of it.

"So, training today, hm? Anything else on the menu?" Eva took another sip of her tea, feeling the warmth of it spread through her body. She almost didn't want that moment to end, her and Jason sitting in his room, the peace and quiet while they enjoy the moment.

To Jason, there was something so unbelievably domestic about it. A spot of calm in the raging storm that was his life. And seated across from him was a woman he found himself wanting to have that moment with more often.

"I heard Bruce mentioning something about going down to the police station, seeing Agreste. I dunno, maybe let Marinette confront her fears." Jason shrugged.

".. Is that wise? Like, I'm not questioning your guys' judgement or anything, but that bastard only yesterday kidnapped her, basically almost killed her, shouldn't we give her some time and space away from him?" 

"He's going back to France soon, to be prosecuted there. From what I'd gathered from the friends I have at the police station, that teacher of theirs is trying to say it was all a big misunderstanding."

That brought a snort of Eva.

"That's a bunch of fucking bullshit, but no, of course Caline is going to try to get everything swept under the rug. And Adrien's fancy, rich lawyers are no doubt gonna work double time to get all charges dropped." Eva grumbled.

Jason merely sat back and watched as Eva grumbled to herself. He found it rather adorable how her brows drew together and how she was practically snarling. But what really caught his attention was the fire in her eyes. Eyes that always drew him in with how expressive they were, like some open book. He knew a hundred things about Eva, yet nothing at all.

"But I shouldn't stress over it. They're not worth it, and I'm sure that the universe is going to deliver a great dose of karma." She let out a huff, and drained her cup of her tea.

Jason merely smiled and finished off his own tea. It was going to be an interesting day.

…

A morning of being tossed around like a rag doll in the training room, an afternoon of having heart to hearts with Marinette, and Eva found herself here.

Lady Vixen knelt on the ledge of the roof she had managed to scramble to, her breathing coming out in short, fast bursts as she ran, ran as far and fast as she could. 

She had crossed a line, she had gone and manhandled Adrien, because that little bastard had reminded her so much of David, of a past she had practically fled Canada to get away from. A past she had tried so hard to hide. 

Vixen, practically blind to the world, buried her face in her hands and began to sob, unaware of the orange mist that began to swirl around her. 

The ringing of a school reached her ears. Her head snapped up to see a familiar, yet distant scene in front of her; her high school’s main lobby, the rush of student bodies, the laughter, the shoutings, the energy of the youth that was sure that they all had such bright futures in front of them.. And there she was, at the age of sixteen. Eva Bourbon pushing her way through the crowds, engrossed in her own thoughts of papers and other schoolwork that she barely noticed the guy in front of her. 

They had collided, she had dropped her books, he had dropped his cell phone. They had stumbled over apologies and had scurried to pick up their dropped items. They had made clumsy introductions, Eva to the tall, blond, handsome David with the darkest eyes she had ever seen. 

“No, don’t.. Fuck, get away from him..” Vixen croaked out as she watched her younger self, her more foolish self, flirt with David, watched as they exchanged numbers, and continued on their ways to their classes.

And her life began to rush by; David asking her out, their first date at a nice restaurant and then them going and watching an event at the town’s main park, David and Eva agreeing to go steady, David’s many lavish gifts, since the guy was rich and came from an important family that had far too much influence in the town. Vixen watched tearfully the first time Eva had slept with David; in the back seat of his fancy car, the young seventeen year old girl looking so nervous, wanting to back out and maybe try this another time, and David begging, smooth talking, wearing her down until young Eva finally gave in. She watched as Eva went home that night and cried herself to sleep, but told herself that it was fine, afterall, she and David were soulmates, she was supposed to give her virginity to her soulmate.

The two got married just out of high school, moving into a nice large house with a white picket fence, paid for by David’s father. She watched as David’s father was arrested for fraud, amongst other things, and David lost his source of money. As Eva struggled with university and far too many jobs to count, as well as keeping a nice home. As David threw a fit as the two of them moved into a smaller house, because they just didn’t have the money, as he wasted money on drugs, alcohol, reminding Eva of a monster. 

And every time she went to leave him, he threatened suicide, that he couldn’t live without her, that if he died it would be all her fault and everyone would hate her for it, so she stayed, scared for him, for her. Because, foolishly enough, she still loved David, she thought he was her soulmate.

“No, just fucking leave him..” Vixen buried her face in her hands once more, as she witnessed a scene, one of many, of David forcing himself on Eva. “Fucking go.. Fuck, leave, please.. Soulmates don’t exist, that’s fucking fairytales, it’s bullshit, grow up, grow up, grow up..”

And the day that Eva was finally fed up with David, finally let the scales fall from her eyes, and she packed her bags, shoving them into the trunk of her car. And just as she was about to get into her car, Eva heard her name. 

Vixen and Eva both turned their heads, watching as David pulled out a handgun, Eva having never seen it before in her life, and as he inserted the barrel into his mouth, and pulled the trigger. His blood and brains splattered on the white house wall.

It was a scene that still haunted Eva to this day, a scene she saw everytime she closed her eyes, everytime she went to sleep she dreamed of that. And years later, she saw clearly that he had just done that to hurt her. David had been a pathetic excuse of a man, he’d had no skills aside from spending his daddy’s money, he never would have gotten anywhere without her. 

…

Eva stepped through the front door of Wayne Manor. Everyone was standing in the front hall, watching her. She could see the questions in their eyes, see them noticing her red rimmed eyes, her rosy nose, her trembling lips. She even noticed Marinette taking a step towards her, reaching out a hand. But Jason was the one who made his way to her, and she threw herself into his arms, into a pair of arms she knew deep down would never aim to hurt her.

And a few minutes later, she was curled up in his bed, in his embrace, telling her story while he remained quiet and simply listened. Once she was done, he let out a heavy sigh. 

“If he wasn’t already dead, I’d kill him. Fuck, Eva.. I had no idea.” He murmured as he ran a hand over her hair, smoothing it away from her tearstained face. 

“Oh, you never looked into my background? Never found out I was a widow?” Eva let out a teary laugh, but it ran hollow, false. 

“I wanted to, you know, respect your privacy. I only did a background check for any arrests or if you were connected to anything suspicious.” He admitted. When Eva sat up to look at him, he cupped her face in her hands. “I guess we both have pretty fucked up pasts. I was killed by the Joker.”

“Yeah, really funny, Jason.” She went to roll her eyes, but the look on her face made her stop. “Wait.. No, fuck, Jay, are you serious?” 

And that was the night that the two of them bore the deepest parts of themselves to each other. And Eva made several appointments for Jason to see a therapist, as well as herself.

Taglist: @the-navistar-carol @chocolate1721 @emo-elaine13 @mochinek0 @drarryismylife101 @toodaloo-kangaroo @moonlightstar64 @imtryingsstuff @shamefullove

[dallonm-archive]

Lemon Teeth | Short Story Updates #2

cw for death and murder talk, and fire imagery (and one mention of sleeping pills)

Hello hello!

I’ve really wanted to share another short story update ever since I posted about Ammonite, but my process became a little ~messy~ since then and now - jumping between different projects and struggling to focus mainly, but I have a system now that’s working well. I’ve also been working a lot on redeveloping my initial collection idea from nearly two years ago. It’s been going great and I like where it’s headed, but my main struggles are a) title?? never heard of her and b) oops! I created a very broad but clear tone and atmosphere for this collection and started coming up with stories that go completely against that. I’m hoping to talk more about it in the next update as the next two stories I plan to draft next are very much in line with the idea I’m going with. But this story is as well, so for now lets talk about a house, an unhinged couple, and lemon cake! Because this post has been half finished in my drafts all month and it is! Haunting me!

In Lemon Teeth, a house narrates the nights its inhabitants decide to burn it down, and struggles to understand the human condition.

Genre: literary short fiction, might be surrealist (?)  POV: 1st person present tense / inanimate narrator (the house)  Atmosphere: TV static in the background, dusty wood, stuffy summer air, overfilled ashtrays, cigarette burns, smoke inhalation, bitter citrus flavour, lemon cake

This was originally called Lemon Cake and Gasoline and that was the title for most of the drafting process, but I’d juggled between that title and Lemon Teeth with my only rejection for Lemon Teeth being that I had No Idea what it meant. But I always found that title to be much more interesting and with a story where not a lot makes sense, it’s actually a perfect fit and I’ll use the editing process to figure out it’s full meaning. This image has been in my mind for a year and a half now, of a couple standing in front of a burning house, and it remained stagnant until I realised it wasn’t just about the fire and that the narrator was the house itself. This draft ~sucks~. Finding lines I wanted to share was really a needle in a haystack moment, but I have a lot of hope for this story and I really like it as an idea! There is such a chaotic vibe to it that I really want to highlight in further drafts. Also it is 2020 and we are loving and embracing drafts even when they suck!

I was designed for cosy Christmas mornings and ardent family dinners. For boisterous children who crayon the walls and grow up to be doctors and lawyers. But not everyone wants that. Some people thrive when they’re on fire.

(In this episode of oh my god just because the story is about fire doesn’t mean there has to be all this fire imagery but this part really cemented the house’s voice for me. This story also definitely takes inspiration from the American Dream and I wonder if the house dislikes its inhabitants not because they’re bad people, but because they reject expectations and traditions.)

The most interesting part of the process was creating a voice for the house - this is my first delve into inanimate narrators and I’m lowkey obsessed.  The house is petty, sarcastic, and looks down on the inhabitants - Lawrence and Frances. My idea was that the house’s knowledge is limited and only influenced by who lives there, but it knows everything about these inhabitants, how their minds work, and secrets they’ve repressed deep inside. I really like the cold, distance “observer” nature of the narrative, which leads the house to struggle to understand why Lawrence and Frances act the way they do, and why they decide to burn down their home. That’s where the heart of this story is: it’s full of contradictions, unanswered questions, and nonsensical decisions from the characters, and the aim is not to explain or justify any of it (not that I’d want to with characters like these two who are just. very morally fucked up).

Lawrence and Frances are awful people, but they are super fun to write.  They’re married, but they’ve known from the start that they don’t love each other in that sense. They shout, fight, challenge each other, try to kill each other, but they don’t hate each other. There is this sort of mutual respect between them, that they both know the type of people they are and have no interest in improving or redeeming themselves, so are perfectly content in this messy, tangled “harmony” they’ve found together. But also they would definitely kill each other for the life insurance?? And there’s probably an unspoken competition over who can get it first? The chaos of it all!

Frances imagines baking Lawrence’s favourite cake - her famous lemon drizzle - and pouring the contents of his ashtray into the batter. She daydreams of crushing his sleeping pills into icing sugar. She’ll collect his life insurance with a funeral veil in time for New Years and kiss the neighbour’s wife at midnight.

Frances is textbook Unhinged Gal and one of my main goals to improve this story is to really push her boundaries because she already has little to none. She locks herself in the bathroom and pretends to fall asleep so she can berate Lawrence for not checking on her, she daydreams about poisoning him with baked goods, she has an affair with the neighbours wife. That being said I don’t think I’ve figured her out on a deeper psychological level, and I plan to focus on her specifically in the edits. The house takes a particular dislike to Lawrence because he only got the house via inheritance and is again, awful. Lawrence is a liar first and a human second but it’s like he doesn’t even try  to make those lies believable, my personal favourite lie of his being when he pretended to be a war hero to gain the respect of neighbours and be invited to parties so he could steal ashtrays and other little trinkets (pack it up magpie). He gives me the impression of someone who doesn’t care if he isn’t believed, because he probably believes the lies himself. 

He grins to nobody, licks non-existent blood off his lips from non-existent prey.

My favourite part of the story is the ending even though it has been SO difficult to navigate and it needs the most work. What I love though is there’s a distinct tonal shift and it gets very intense. Not to go to town with the fire imagery but the story really feels like holding a lit match and not thinking much about it but the flame keeps growing and growing and suddenly its burning your finger and oh geez how did the fire get that big so quickly. But overall, very fun story, very chaotic, needs a lot of work. I don’t really know when I’ll go back to this, I’m lowkey dreading it, but I would love to give this messy story justice!

To summarise:

Frances: 

unhinged but it’s kinda hot?? 

good morning i am wake and ready to cause problems

literally would not endorse her in real life but like it’s my story and i’m allowed to have fun with the chaotic female characters

what if we were neighbours in loveless marriages,,,, and we are both girls?

makes a mean lemon drizzle cake tho

Lawrence: 

clown man 

literally being bullied by a bunch of wood  

was a magpie in a past life and now he’s not even that good at it

why is everyone mean to me???? all i did was be the worst 

honestly surprised he’s not dead yet either from his wife or his own dumbassery 

The House:

kinda savage

why do humans feel emotions they are so complicated and annoying

longs for the boring white picket fence but also it is a bunch of wood and cannot have dreams or desires and all of this is based on taught traditions and false ideas of worth 

??? what are the rules for when your oc is a house ???

there are none. go wild 

And that’s it for now! I would share the playlist but it is literally 3 songs, and all the moodboards are just Houses On Fire And Maybe A Lemon Tree. As I said this has post has been sitting in my drafts unfinished for most of September, so I’m just happy to get it out there. I do love this story a lot but it needs a lot of work, and I’m real excited to talk about the stories I’m working on currently and hopefully (!!) where my collection is headed. 

-Chloe