#hhhh i reached it like a week ago and i tried to keep it a secret and then

[ritz-writes]

So... when I said that everything was the same in spotlight au... that includes Macaque making a deal with LBD. cuz who am I if I don't have some kind of angst hehe. Though, there are a few differences. The main one being that, when Spider Queen tries to take over the city, LBD keeps herself hidden from Wukong. This also means that he doesn't leave during season 2. At least, not at first.

This is another drabble that got way to long hhhh

Words: 1128

(Everything said in this post happens about a week after the attempted city takeover.)

By this point, Macaque's friends know Wukong is the ex and still don't rlly like him, but they can see he's trying, so they r giving him a chance. But, like I said, they have their ups and downs. At one point, they have a fight. I haven't worked out what the fight is about, but they both say things they regret later and Macaque storms off to the theater, his one place of solace (he and a few other long term actors have the codes to get in and are allowed to whenever they want). A few of his cast mates were there going over lines and immediately rush to comfort him, letting him vent out his frustrations.

Here's where the angst comes in >:))

It was well into the middle of the night when the lights flicker out, a man stepping out of the shadows, purring about how "easy it was to find the lady's little play thing."

Macaque immediately backs away in terror, knowing full well what the man was there for. Or rather, who.

(Theres like 6 people there including macaque, but i dont have any names, so I'm just gonna use letters to address them lmao)

"Uhm, excuse me sir?" A said nervously. "You can't be in here, you need to leave."

The man chuckled, ignoring them completely, his eyes zeroed in on Macaque alone. "You know, if you were trying to hide, you did quite a poor job of it."

B and C move forward, the others converging to stand in front of Macaque. "Hey, back off, man." C snapped. "You need to leave. Now."

The man raised an eyebrow, then smirked. He rushed forward and in the blink of an eye, had B and C by the throat in either hand, raising them off the floor.

Macaque pushed passed the other 3, eyes wide. "Stop!! Stop, let them go, please! I-I'll go with you, okay?"

D grabbed Macaque's arm. "Mac, are you crazy?"

Macaque ripped out of the hold, moving closer. "Let them go and I'll follow you without a fight. I'll do whatever she says, just... don't hurt them, please. " His voice was shaky, as were his hands. He thought he'd gotten away from Her years ago, thought he was free despite the feeling of chains in his dreams.

He now realized just how foolish a thought that was.

The man's grin widened. He threw B and C forward, the duo crashing to the others with a yelp. Macaque moved to help, but was stopped by and hand gripping the back of his neck, sending shivers by his spine.

"And the lamp?" The man hissed in his ear, smile ever present.

Macaque was near hyperventilating. He didn't want to do this. Gods, he did not want to see her again, but he had no choice. He had to keep his friends safe.

Shit, why did he have to go and get attached again?

E stood up, seeming just as scared as Macaque. "L-Let him go!"

The grip on his neck tightened. "The lamp, Macaque."

Macaque shut his eyes, tail curling around his leg. "I-It's at my house."

"Good. Take us there. We don't want to keep the lady waiting, now do we?"

Macaque bit his lip and summoned a portal under them. He opened his eyes long enough to see the terrified expression of his friends, B and D rushing forward, arms outstretched toward him.

He couldn't let them get hurt. He could probably--maybe--fight the man off, but he couldn't risk LBD using his friends against him.

Macaque reached into his pocket and, right before he dropped into the portal, threw his phone towards the group, praying to any god listening that they'd know who to call.

And that he'd be willing to help.

---

Wukong was surprised to see Macaque calling him. Normally they went days without talking after a fight. He honestly didn't want to answer at first, but he knew that'd probably just make things worse.

So, with a heavy sigh, he swiped answer. Before he could even speak, though, the sound of loud sobbing filled his ears, the noise coming from the background. He sat up from his couch, fur bristled. "Macaque? What's going on, who's crying?"

Someone took a deep breath, then spoke. Someone who definitely wasn't Macaque. "Sun Wukong?"

Wukong growled. "Who the hell is this. Where's Macaque."

"This is B. I'm a friend of his. He... shit this dude just came in and took him!"

Wukong jumped off the couch and ran out the door, summoning his cloud and taking off toward the city. "Took him? What do you mean? Who was it?"

"It was this weird dude in a suit, he came out of nowhere. I think Mac knew him or something. The dude said something about a-a lamp? I don't know, but he threw his phone before they left. I'm assuming he wanted us to call you."

Wukong swore under his breath, urging his nimbus to go faster. "Do you know where they went? Did the man say anything else?"

"Mac said the lamp was at his house, so he took them there. Uhm, the guy said something about a lady?"

Wukong felt cold. "A lady?" He repeated quietly.

"Y-Yeah. I think Macaque knew who he was talking about? He said 'she' at one point. I-I'm sorry, it's kind of a blur, everything happ—"

"Are you sure?" Wukong repeated, voice strained. He had to be wrong, please, he had to be wrong. "He said 'she'? Do you remember what Macaque said exactly?"

B took a shaky breath. "He said 'I'll do whatever she says.' He was trying to get him to not hurt us."

No.

Gods, he was such an idiot. How did he not see it before. People don't just come back from the dead on their own. Someone brought Macaque back, someone with a purpose. Someone who was supposed to be dead themselves.

A low growl made its way past his throat.

B spoke again. "You know what's going on, don't you?" It wasn't a question.

"Yeah," he answered. "What's his address?"

B hesitated, but only for a second. "It's ______"

"Alright. Thanks for calling me. I'll handle this."

"I'll keep his phone on me. Keep me updated."

"Sure."

"I mean it," B snapped. "You better keep me updated. I want to make sure Macaque is okay. I don't trust you, but he obviously still does. Don't let him down again. Please."

--

By the time Wukong made it to Macaque's house, there was no one there, the magical presence of the lamp faded.

The next day, Monkey King went on 'vacation.' He didn't tell B about it.

[taliasburns]

FLEUR’S 10K + BIRTHDAY FOLLOW FOREVER holy shit y’all. 10K!! WOAH i’m just.... really overwhelmed. 5 years on this hellsite, 10k followers and my 20th birthday. im JUST REALLY HAPPY RN. In this follow forever i just wanna appreciate the blogs i have been following for years and the blogs i recently started following (the marvel babes as i like to call them). I also wanna thank a few people who i met on this site that have been absolutely amazing friends to me. 

THANK YOU ALL SO MUCH FOR 10K FOLLOWERS I APPRECIATE YOU ALL SO MUCH

follow forever under the cut

A few special people

@proudfanofeverything: she and her sister are one of my real life best friends. Without you two i wouldve never been able to get here (literally because you two were the ones introducing me to tumblr)

@posh-with-2-fields: ollie my babe, we have known each other for like idk ... 3 months?? but in those 3 months you have become one of my best friends. the numerous voice calls and the p much daily chats always leave me feeling happy and i hope one days soon ill get to see your pun loving soft adorable you again

@veronicaslodge @juliantinas @jenniferjareau @shawnsmednes: becca, jj, katie and cee. I may not be in the riverdale fandom anymore but honestly the .. year (i think it was a year or so) i have spent there was so much better and you babes had a big role in that. I love that even though i have completely disappeared from the fandom we still talk and im really grateful for being able to call you guys my friends <3

@karolinadean @anakins @danaryas @waverly-earp @lvrsonbrie @rizzolijane @stephanie-beatriz @gayingmantis @lyricaokana @themanstateofmind : honestly with moest of you babes i cant even remember in which fandom i followed you. Mostly because i have been following you all since the beginning of times. With moest of you i dont really talk all that often anymore but that doesnt mean i dont love and appreciate y’all. U have all been there for me at certain times and ill never forget that. i give you all my love <3

@natashasromanofff @bi-marvel @captainsstevenrogers @ironarm @starkdnvers @handsomestarlord @awstark @harrington-steve @maniron @wandasmaximoff @ellalopz @sansvstarks @padma-patil @spideyhearts @mcuhope @danversrambeau : or as i would like to call you all: the marvel bunch. In the past 2 months (almost 3 i think) i jumped deep deep deep into the trashcan that is called th marvel cinematic universe. and somewhere in that trashcan (no this is not me calling y’all trash ur all quite the opposite) i found you guys. Every single one of you has made me feel so incredibly welcome in this new fandom (this huge new fandom). and i honest to god could not be more grateful for the friendships that i have formed in the past months. Thank you all for making this whole experience such a good one ily all <3 

@abbyarcaine @josiepark @softposie @olemonade @lady-of-the-sun and my other babes from the legaycies chat: we have all become this close group of people in the past few months all thanks to that one discord server. Im so very happy i decided to download discord so i could meet all of you. Thanks for all the laughs, the jokes and thanks for being amazing fiends to me ily all <3

italics - mutuals bold - favourite blogs

A-B

@abbyarcaine ✵ @aca-trash ✵ @aka-patsywalker ✵ @alexdanveers ✵ @alexdanverxs ✵ @anakins ✵ @andthwip ✵ @anissaspierce ✵ @annakendrrick ✵ @antipulgas ✵ @antniobanderas ✵ @argentsallison ✵ @artwlw ✵ @asgardodinsons ✵ @astnkova ✵ @avasaras ✵ @awstark ✵ @beauyashha ✵ @bi-marvel ✵ @bithor ✵ @bittersweet-ritual ✵ @brianelarson ✵ @briee-larson ✵ @briel-arson ✵ @brielarxon ✵ @bridesaulniers  ✵  @briesidonielarsons ✵ @brittanysnow ✵ @brolinjosh ✵ @bucktonys

C-D

@canaries ✵ @captainsstevenrogers ✵ @captcdmarvel ✵ @captmarvls ✵ @caroljessica ✵ @carolsdanvors ✵ @carolsteves ✵ @chloebeale ✵ @chylersleigh​ ✵ @cmdrshepvrd ✵ @cptnbucky ✵ @cptniron ✵ @daisyjohnsony ✵ @danaryas ✵ @danveers ✵ @danvers-carols ✵ @danversrambeau ✵ @deckerstar ✵ @delmars ✵ @detsantiago ✵ @dianeguererro ✵ @diegohargreevess ✵ @dobrev ✵ @dykeoa ✵ @dykes

E-J

@eizagonzalezs ✵ @ellalopz ✵ @emilyjunk ✵ @emmas ✵ @enthusiangst ✵ @florencespugh ✵ @flrnceandthemachine ✵ @foggyfandoms ✵ @futurist ✵ @gamora ✵ @gayingmantis  ✵ @ginnysgardners ✵ @handsomestarlord ✵ @hasan-minhaj ✵ @heartgracie ✵ @harrington-steve  ✵ @iamiironman ✵ @iam-narwhal ✵ @ignalusa ✵ @ironarm​ ✵ @izzienewton ✵ @james---bond ✵ @jenniferjareau ✵ @jeremychetri ✵ @joe-keerys ✵ @josiepark ✵ @juleswickr ✵ @juliantinas ✵ @justdrifting

K-N

@kara-luthors ✵ @karolinadean ✵ @karolinarunaway ✵ @katebeckett ✵ @katiemccgrath ✵ @kendricks-boobs ✵ @kira-yukimura ✵ @laurasbailey ✵ @lenakluthor ✵ @lena-zorel ✵ @lesbian-marvel ✵ @letsgetdowney ✵ @lexiegrey ✵ @lgbrielarson ✵ @lizzieforbes ✵ @lovingiris ✵ @luluantariska ✵ @lvrsonbrie ✵ @lydiamartinn ✵ @lyricaokana ✵ @magunahstark ✵ @malsreginas ✵ @maniron ✵ @marvelplease ✵ @marvelsrunagays ✵ @mazikeens ✵ @mcuhope ✵ @michaelguerrin ✵ @msmar-vell ✵ @nataliarushman ✵ @natasharomanoff ✵ @natasharomanovs ✵ @natashasromanofff

O-R

@oldllace ✵ @olemonade ✵ @padma-patil  ✵ @palmsdreams ✵ @pcsie ✵ @peggycaerter ✵ @pen-park ✵ @penpcrk ✵ @pepperonys ✵ @petersbenjamin ✵ @petrxsolano ✵ @pharah ✵ @phoebetonkin ✵ @polvorosas ✵ @portiialin ✵ @posh-with-2-fields​ ✵ @proudfanofeverything​ ✵ @puppybrie ✵ @pussysideup ✵ @queeralex ✵ @queerpuff ✵ @quinntanas ✵ @rainbowkarolina ✵ @reeseewitherspoon ✵ @riseofskywalkers ✵ @rizzolijane ✵ @roberldowneyjr

S-T

@sabrinaspellman ✵ @sansas ✵ @sansvstarks ✵ @saoirse-ronan ✵ @sarcana ✵ @scarletjohanssons ✵ @sergantbucky ✵ @sharkatomic ✵ @sharon-carter ✵ @shawnsmednes ✵ @skwalkers ✵ @softposie ✵ @sophieturner ✵ @spideyhearts ✵ @stardustparker ✵ @starkdnvers ✵  @starkked ✵ @stark-tony ✵ @stephanie-beatriz ✵ @supahgays ✵ @tessatompsons ✵ @themanstateofmind ✵ @tonystarkz ✵ @tonystarrks ✵ @toodrunktofindaurl ✵ @topazlance

U-Z

@umromanov ✵ @valdescarvajal ✵ @valkyrierhodes ✵ @van-dyne ✵ @vera-farmiga  ✵ @veronicaslodge ✵ @veronicaslodges ✵ @visionmcu ✵ @wandaomanov ✵ @wandasmaximoff ✵ @wandazmaximoff ✵ @waverly-earp ✵ @weallgotcrownsxo ✵ @wlwuhs ✵ @wtchygf ✵ @zataraszatanna

let me know if i missed you or of the bold / itialics isnt right

other things i did for 10k

[goodlucksnez]

Eraser//mic

1200+ words of allergy Sh//outa Ai/zawa

idk where I got this idea to write this but i wrote it

As Shouta stumbled into the dimly lit laundromat, he thought about how he got into this situation.

On his way back from one of the local cat shelters, he heard the local siren indicating a villain attack. As he vaulted onto the nearest rooftop to get a scoop of the land, his eyes quickly spotted the villain. It was obvious he was drunk or under the influence of some kind of drug and was yelling at the local bystanders trying to escape a steaming liquid he seemed to be oozing from his body. He spotted a young girl no older than 6 hanging off of a tree, a valet attempt to escape the burning liquid but it was clear she wasn’t able to hold on much longer. As Shouta wrapped his capture scarf around a close telephone pole and swung to catch the young girl the moment her gripped failed. He had little intention of getting a direct hit from the man’s quirk that started to eat away at his black shirt, exposing the skin underneath. As the young girl hung onto him and he landed on the slick pavement his worry wasn’t on the exposed skin but the threat of the enemy. As other Pro’s quickly handled the situation and Shouta returned the girl to her very thankful parents, he saw the ooze had eaten away at most of his shirt only leaving his capture scarf shielding his boy. Luckily for him being a UA teacher had it perks with local businesses. He quickly pulled out his cellphone and scrolled until he found the name and pressed down, and as the phone rang, he stated walking to the underground laundromat.

He was pulled back from the memory as a cheery voice called out. “G’day mate, how can I help ye?” As Shouta neared the counter he saw the semi-familiar blue and gold eyes of a fairly young female. As Shouta handed over the badly dissolved shirt he replied with a voice tired and rough.

“Hello Thimble, business I assume has been alright…. you know what I like.” She quickly took the torn fabric and replied “Well if you keep bein’ a bogan I sure as hell be a’ight.” Shouta simply nodded and went to sit down as he knew it would not take long to repair the fabric. He met Thimble as a local business deal a few years back, her quick, Edgestitch, as long as there was a piece of the original fabric could replace and repair the item to its original shape and size. Many heroes whose outfits were destroyed employed her and soon she made a small shop for underground heroes. As Shouta rested his eyes and pulled out a jelly packet he could hear the nimble fingers and the sound of machine sewing at a rapid pace, and within a short while, Thimble emerged from the back with his regular black shirt neatly folded with a decorative bow on the top. He quickly thanked her, and put on the shirt, the warm fabric encased his body and he quickly smiled before turning and leaving the small shop.

As he walked back to UA, thinking about what tests he had to grade later and how late he would stay up reviewing video tapes and evidence about the attack last week in Kotsu, his eyes began to sting. He brushed this aside as dry eyes were a common side effect of his quick and as he wiped his eyes on the freshly laundered shirt, he found himself pinching forward.

“Aht’NDJSHuh!”

As he recovered from the sneeze that bended his body, he found himself oddly sniffly and wiping his nose on his sleeve, the tickle which didn’t seem to be going away sprung to life again he found himself pinching forward three more times.

 “HUH- HP’TSCHHH! Hih’tschxx- tsch, tsCHHhh”

Eyes watering and nose running he decided maybe the spring air was causing his allergies to act up and he quickly headed inside to the teachers’ lounge in search of some antihistamines as well as tissues. As he pushes the door open to the teachers’ lounge, he saw Vlad as well as All Might and Hizashi lounging on the sofa and as he entered all three heads turned to him. Hizashi was the first one to speak.

 “Yo Eraser we expected you here 30 minutes ago what took you so long?”

Eraser simply shook his head and attempted to not sound congested as he replied, “Small run in with a villain, sniff had to make a few alterations on my course here.”

His voice was gravelly and though he tried to hide his congestion Hizashi who had known him for the better part of 15 years quickly picked up on it and stood up and went to his desk side cabinet and pulled out a packet of allergy meds. As Eraser wiped his nose on his sleeve again All Might couldn’t help but comment on the act.

“As a person with health issues I understand truly I do, but please try to be more sanitary we are—"

This sentence was caught off by Eraser quickly doubling over in a fit of sneezes which rendered his body useless.

“I can’t- I—I neehhhhd t—to—HhIH’TSCHhhuu! Hah’tSCHhhu! Hih.. Hih…! G’TSCHXX”

Mic quickly ran to his side helping the hunched over Pro and lead him to the sofa. As he sat down the sneezing started to slow Hizashi quickly grabbed tissues and handed it to the sniffling man.

“Yo eraser are you okay? I’ve known you long enough to know that isn’t normal, you would never show this weakness!”

Shouta eyes were burning and his nose was still flaring an indication that the persistent tickle in the back of his nose wasn’t done. He replied with a voice rough “I bon’t know I was fided all day it’s just--dammit heh-heh ugh G’TSSCHhhhh! Hah’tTSCHHhh! I-I can’t-dTSCchh! Can’t stohihHTSCHHHhh!

Mic rubbed his back and then slowly leaned forward as if he was inspecting something. Mic then quickly turned 180° away from Shouta and sneezed very harshly into his elbow and before he could turn back sneezed three more times in rapid secession.

As he turned back to Shouta one hand pinching his nose he asked, “Are you wearing perfume it’s so strong--Huh’tschhuuh!”

Shouta hadn’t noticed but there was a faint smell of a lavender like scent that reached his nose and as he inhale deeply the tickle flare to life. Mic simply started counted.

Huh’tschhuuh!”

“Five.”

“H-Heh-! Tschhoo!”

“Six”

“—Ptschh, tschhh!”

“Eig…. Fuck is that eight or nine, I lost count, wow Eraser new record!!”

Hizashi while blessing him began to grab the bottom of Shouta shirt and while Shouta was sniffling and panting he quickly took off the article of clothing off and tossed it away.

With the shirt gone Shouta affliction seem to slowly stop and after another 10 minutes the tickle was gone and it was just his eyes that were itching and tears began to stream down his face to stop the burning sensation.

Mic asked again “are you all right now?”

“Yes” he replied voice weak “I got my shirt repaired at the Underground laundromat they must have a new detergent sniff I don’t think I’m very fond of.”

Mic pinched forward and quietly stifled as quietly as Mic could before Shouta continued “-and I don’t think you like it either sniff I’ll have to talk to Thimble about changing back, but for now sniff  I’m going sleep.”

[chemically-imbalanced-romance]

The Precious Life of Logan Sanders

    Prompt/Synopsis: “Honey, you can't reach out to an angel for friendship, that's what demons are for." 

Requested by: @mirror2thespirit

Trigger warnings: Major character death ((it’s not supposed to be sad tho, it’s of old age and the character continues on after death)), alcoholism, abuse, suicide attempt ((almost)), bullying, neglect, sympathetic deceit, implied suicide ((not the major character death)), hhhh let me know if I missed anything 

    Word count: 3204

A/N: This is a fic I wrote a while ago (Through the 4th to the 9th of November, 2018 to be specific) but it got deleted when I deleted my weekly analogical blog. I honestly think it’s pretty great, so I’m putting it back here. Mind the trigger warnings

    Reblogs > Likes

    All his life, Logan had been followed by a figure shrouded in white mist. They were more than human, and showed up every time Logan needed protection or comfort. They looked normal by all means, with rich black skin and bright brown eyes, but they never aged and a faint blue glow created a halo atop their head. Logan tried pointing them out before to his older brother, but Roman just scoffed and told him he was seeing things; the figure winked. 

    Maybe Logan wouldn’t be so obsessed with him if he had something else to focus on. His parents had chased away anybody willing to give him attention, and he disappointed anybody willing to stick around by not being more like Roman. That made sense- Roman and Logan coped in very different ways, and it wasn’t Roman’s fault that his way of coping was just better. 

    Logan liked losing himself in books, wiki pages, research. He liked to leave his body and stay somewhere else for a while. Roman liked to lose himself in other people- boys, specifically. He was constantly skipping school and staying out late, almost never around the house anymore. The first time he skipped school, their dad gave him a black eye, and then he did it again and their parents gave up. Logan tried skipping school, and his dad beat him so bad he couldn’t get out of bed all weekend. Roman stayed with him while he recovered, bringing him food and playing video games, but Logan barely looked at him. 

    It wasn’t Roman’s fault people treated him better. It wasn’t Roman’s fault he got it easier. It wasn’t Roman’s fault that Logan hated him. 

    He’d had enough.

    As he laid in bed, his eye throbbing and his chest contracting with sobs, he decided he was going to talk to this person. 

    He tried three times before he was stopped. 

    First Attempt: Caught off guard 

    Logan watched his ratty sneakers step on the cracks in the sidewalk as he made his way to school the next morning. The sun peeked over the horizon, painting the sky cerulean. The concealer and foundation Roman insisted on putting on stuck awkwardly to his face, even though Roman promised he’d get used to it. 

    He glanced up and faltered- the boy was sitting backwards on a bench facing away from him in a nearby park, his chin rested over his folded arms, smiling. Logan glanced around, but he was the only one in the street. 

He started towards him just as a half dozen books attacked his ankles. He smacked against the pavement painfully as his classmates rode by on their bikes, laughter echoing down the street. Logan glanced down- It was the book their English teacher assigned an essay on. 

    Hot shame curled in Logan’s gut, and he started to curl up with tears in his eyes when something crashed. He looked up just in time to see each bike slamming into each other like dominos, the kids laying in a pile of bruised bodies. 

    Logan looked back to the bench, but the boy was gone. 

    Second Attempt: The direct approach 

    Logan glared at his textbook, his hands curled into fists. It was close to 2am, and he was damn near ready to scream. He had a test the next day in English, and he was nowhere near ready for it. He was already failing the class. He didn’t want to know what would happen if his parents got called in for his grades. That happened one time in middle school, and they were much more lenient then. 

    Something snapped outside, and his head shot up. He leaned over his desk to peek out the window of his above-ground basement bedroom. 

    The boy drifted delicately around Logan’s front yard, moonlight sparkling against his skin, the white fabric of his dress flowing over his elbows, hips, and knees. A vibrant purple storm cloud followed, raining down on him as giggles echoed in Logan’s head, pastel blue and white dots following wherever he stepped. 

    Logan moved before his brain caught up to what he was doing; he sprinted out of the house, stopping in the doorway, and the boy looked up at him with what Logan could only describe as bliss. He started moving, bare feet crushing the wet flowers, and opened his mouth to speak- and the boy was gone. 

    Logan blinked. He hadn’t looked away or closed his eyes; he was suddenly charging at nothing. 

    Frustrated, he went back inside, but before they left for school the next morning, Roman pointed out the flowers. 

    Attempt Three: The indirect approach 

    After school, Logan sat on the same park bench as before. He put his headphones in and waited. He got halfway through the Les Mis soundtrack, the sun long since set, before he heard him. 

    “Go home,” a soft voice whispered in his ear. It could have been the wind. There was no one there. “It’s late. It’s dangerous. Go home.” 

    He didn’t move. 

    “Logan. You can’t be here. You know that.” 

    Logan squeezed his eyes shut. “Why not?” 

    “It isn’t safe.” 

    “Take me home.” 

    The boy chuckled. “I can’t do that.” 

    Logan clenched his fists; he was being mocked. “I’m not leaving until you speak to me,” he snapped. “Tell me what you want.” 

    Silence stretched out long enough for Logan to wonder whether he was even still there, and then he spoke again. “You’re very clever, Logan, but this isn’t going to work.” 

    “Why not?”

    “It can’t.” 

    Logan’s entire body tensed, his mind screaming, as footsteps sounded behind him. He was too scared to move. 

    “I’ll distract them.” 

    He didn’t look back, sprinting all the way home. 

    Attempt Four: The desperate approach 

    Logan buried his face in his hands. His parents continued screaming at each other upstairs as if they were the only ones who could hear it. He wished they’d just stop. 

    He straightened up and snatched the bottle of pills from his nightstand. 

He wasn’t actually trying to talk to Patton this time. He’d… Given up. He’d started thinking about why he was really there, and what he had done. Why he stayed, even when he didn’t want to. He couldn’t come up with any answers. 

He grabbed the bottle of vodka he’d stolen from his parents and popped open the bottle of pills. He closed his eyes, taking in a shuddering breath. 

He was very aware of someone’s presence. 

“Go away.” 

“I don’t think I’m who you think I am.”

Logan snapped his eyes open. The figure standing in front of him looked no older than his counterpart, but with milky white skin and shrouded in black dust. Little black horns stuck out from his vibrant purple hair. 

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “You’re not…” 

“No.” He nodded to the bottle of pills. “You might want to put that down.” 

Logan blinked, and shook his head. 

He sighed. “C’mon, man. Just put it down and talk to me for a moment.” Logan just stared. “Fine, keep it, if it makes you feel better. At least put the lid back on, though, yeah? It’ll at least make me feel better.” 

Logan did so, and the boy did relax a bit. The demon drifted around the room, lavender combat boots pressing into the carpet as he inspected everything. “So you’re Logan, right?” He picked up the finished Rubix cube on Logan’s desk. “If not, this is one goddamn coincidence- not a bad one, though.” 

“I’m Logan.” 

“Cool.” He set it down. “I’m Virgil.” 

Logan looked at him, beyond confused. “What are you?” 

Virgil grinned. “That’s not very nice.”

“Just tell me!” 

He sighed. “Alright, yeah, I get it. Not the best time for jokes.” He sat next to Logan on the bed, emitting frost like a freezer. “What were you doing trying to talk to Patton?”

“Patton is…” 

“Right. The guy in white.” 

“I just…” Logan blushed. “I’m sick of being alone, okay?” 

Virgil grinned. “Honey, you can't reach out to an angel for friendship, that's what demons are for." 

“I don’t understand,” he said in annoyance. 

Virgil nudged him. “Patton’s not going to be able to help you. At least not for a while, as far as I’m concerned.” 

Logan’s chest grew tight, his voice strained. “Can you just make sense?” 

He rose his hands in mock surrender. “Alright, alright.” He dropped his hands in his lap, meeting Logan’s eyes. “Do you remember when the bookshelf fell?” 

Logan looked away, guilt twisting in his stomach. “Yes,” he said quietly. 

When Logan was twelve, he got home from school to find his dad home alone, drunk. He was mad that Logan hadn’t emptied the dishwasher before he left, even though the middle school was miles away and Logan had to wake up at four a.m. just to get ready and walk there on time. He would have hit him- If the bookshelf hadn’t fallen and broken his arm. 

“That was Patton.” 

Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “What… No, it wasn’t.” 

“And when you stayed late for detention in ninth grade, because you got too many tardies? You were on your way to the parking lot when that group of juniors stopped you.” 

The kids had been about to hurt Logan, and make him late getting back home, something his parents didn’t take lightly. They didn’t get the chance to do anything, though, because a teacher leaving for the day passed them, and he was able to follow her out of the building. 

“I remember,” Logan mumbled. 

“And then, last week. With the kids on the bike.” Logan just nodded, and Virgil nudged him. “All those days you thought you’d off yourself if you had to go to school, and it was cancelled, or ended up being easier than you thought? Every time you thought it couldn’t get any worse, and then it got better. Do you remember that, Logan?” 

“It was Patton?” He asked quietly. 

Virgil smiled, a little pride in his voice. “Ever since the beginning.” 

Logan clenched his fists. “If he’s been here the entire time, why hasn’t he said anything?!” He glared at Virgil. “He can’t fix my problems by breaking my father’s arm and getting me a few days off school!” Logan jumped to his feet, throwing the pills on the bed. “I didn’t want much, I just wanted someone to talk to! Why couldn’t he just do that?!” Logan whipped around. “Why is that so much harder?!”

Virgil was unfazed. “He can’t get near you.”

“Why?” 

“Because it’ll kill you.” 

Logan blinked. He swallowed. “I don’t understand.” 

Virgil clasped his hands together, playing with his sleeves. “Patton… He’s been protecting you, yeah. But if he can’t protect you anymore, then it’s time for, well, for you to go. That’s his job, too.” 

“What are you here for, then?” He quickly realized he wasn’t dying tonight.

Virgil gave a lopsided smile. “We’re kind of a duo. And since I won’t kill you by talking to you, and since I’ve kind of got a better grip on things, I can come in for a more direct approach.” 

Logan eyed the bottle, nauseous. 

Virgil stood, gripping Logan’s shoulders. “Listen. Patton wouldn’t let me come in here if he thought there was no chance. He would give you your do over and move on.” He bit his lip, hesitating. “Some people don’t get a happy ending. But they get to try again- everyone does, as many times as they want. But I don’t expose myself to people just for the hell of it. I didn’t come in here just to let you give up at seventeen fucking years old.” 

Logan squeezed his eyes shut as they filled with tears, gripping Virgil’s hands. “I don’t think I can do it.” 

Virgil eased Logan back onto the bed, kneeling between his legs. “Logan. Look at me. What do you want? If you just went to bed, what would you want to do when you woke up?” 

“I don’t know.” 

“Yes, you do.” 

“No, I-” 

“It doesn’t have to be realistic. It can be anything. I don’t care if you want to live on fucking Mars. Why are you here?” 

Logan cracked his watery eyes open. “I just don’t want to be alone anymore.” 

“Then make sure that happens,” he insisted. “It won’t be tomorrow, or next week, and it’s not going to get any easier any time soon. But Patton can be pretty stubborn, and next time you pick up those pills for any reason other than a headache, he’ll smite you.” 

Logan laughed weakly, wiping his eyes. “Isn’t that counterproductive?” 

“Hush. You’re not going to be alone forever, Logan. Because you aren’t a bad person.”

“Does everyone have… You guys?”

“They do.” Virgil winked. “They’re just not all clever enough to see them.” 

Logan glared. “Are you flirting with me?” 

He stood. “Absolutely not. We may not be human anymore, but Pat and I are as monogamous as they come.”

“Will I ever meet him?” 

Virgil shrugged one shoulder. “When you’re ready.” 

The chill of the room began slowly seeping out, and Logan panicked, jumping up and crying, “Wait!” 

The frost settled back into the room, Virgil looking at him curiously. “What?” 

“I…” He slumped, looking away. “I don’t want you to leave just yet. Please?” 

“Alright.” Virgil settled himself on the bed, against the wall. “You put that shit away, I’ll stay right here, okay?” Logan hesitated. “Go on. I promise.” 

Logan gave in, snatching up the pills and the alcohol, rushing to sneak upstairs, put them away, and come back down. Virgil was still right where he left him. 

They laid down a few inches apart, facing each other. Logan shivered as he slowly fell asleep, Virgil’s presence reminding him of safe things. 

He woke up the next morning with the sunlight streaming through his bare window. He rolled over in his empty bed, blinking in confusion at his nightstand. He ran his fingers over the carvings, reading Don’t fuck me over xx. 

It was Saturday morning. 

He could do anything. 

He went to the library. 

xxx

Logan was well into his nineties when he finally met Patton. Too young, Virgil said, although he said that with everyone. At Virgil’s suggestion, Logan had dedicated his life to teaching, to discovery. His research led to several breakthroughs in medicine, and he discovered several highly effective means of therapy for those with social disorders. 

While he was dedicated to academics, he didn’t forget why he stayed. He made an effort not to be such a recluse, something that hurt him at the start- the kids in his hometown weren’t kind. 

So he moved. He went to the city, the same one that held the college he got a scholarship for. He knew the likelihood of there being nothing at all for him was low, and found a book club for mystery readers that met every Saturday. It was awkward, and painful, but he got used to making conversation and having positive attention on him. 

On campus, he met Remy when he nearly spilled his coffee all over Logan first thing in the morning. Logan quickly learned that Remy was addicted to coffee, largely because of his insomnia, and always had on a pair of sunglasses due to his photophobia. He was… Interesting. 

At first, they were hesitant acquaintances, but after Logan effectively helped Remy through a panic attack, Remy latched onto him like a koala. Remy was loud and funny and forced him to eat, and Logan helped him with his homework and kept him company when he couldn’t sleep. 

Two years later, Logan met Emile in his psychology class. He almost didn’t believe it would happen, but after a while, he didn’t feel lonely anymore. He still had to deal with intense abandonment issues, but Emile and Remy never let him deal with it alone, and Logan would be damned if he didn’t give them the same treatment. He wanted to help people, and that included being the best fucking friend in the entire world. 

A few weeks before graduation, he got a call from Roman, whom he hadn’t spoken to since the day before Roman turned eighteen. Logan met him in a coffee shop. 

Roman hadn’t gone to school- he couldn’t afford it and skipped too much, slacked off too much to get any kind of scholarship, and he wasn’t too interested anyway. He told Logan he went straight into working and doing theatre on the side, and was in the city for his first movie audition. Logan told him about school, and his job, and Roman was just as surprised as he was when Logan told him about Remy and Emile. 

“Well I have to meet them!” He cried, then hesitated, remembering he’d practically abandoned Logan. “If you want, that is.”

Logan nearly laughed; he’d never seen Roman look so pitiful. “Yeah, sure. We can all go out to dinner or something.” 

Logan was in his mid-twenties, and working under a medical apprenticeship, when he met Seth at the book club he was now the president of. The first thing Logan noticed about Seth was the bright pink patches of eczema sprinkled all over his otherwise dark brown skin, and the second was that he was a compulsive liar. Sometimes Logan didn’t even realize Seth was lying, until he was stumbling over himself trying to correct it, flustered and embarrassed. 

Logan admired him. They stayed talking in the library even after everyone else in the book club left, and Logan learned he was in therapy for compulsive lying, anxiety, and depression. While Logan and Roman both left home when they were eighteen and never even thought of turning back, Seth was tentatively trying to mend his relationship with his parents after they cut him off for lying. 

They fell easily into a relationship. It just made sense; they were comfortable with each other and understood each other a lot better than most people. Remy and Emile understood Logan’s trouble with feelings, and could temporarily soothe his abandonment issues. But Seth didn’t just understand, didn’t just tolerate it- around him, Logan was comfortable enough to express his emotions, and the things Seth said actually stuck. Remy and Emile had to come running again and again, but Seth’s voice rang in his head any time he felt insecure. 

One night, in their fourties, Logan admitted to Seth while they were laying in bed at night that Patton existed, this person he’s seen his entire life who watches out for him. Seth didn’t mock him, like Logan feared. He wanted to hear all about it. Logan had never felt as relieved as he did in that moment. He’d been dragging this along throughout their entire relationship, and they both noticed a difference afterwards, how much lighter he felt. He could finally put his full trust in Seth. 

He went with Patton without any struggle. Virgil, whom he hadn’t seen since that night when he was seventeen, clapped him on the back and congratulated him.

Patton offered him the warmest smile- he was made of sunlight. “Logan Sanders,” he said, his voice made of wind, “would you like to go again?”

[vintagemiserie]

hhhh sorry for posting this without a readmore but i just finished it aldjskdkfdj. scroll fast if u dont care. jazz au babes

~~

Patrick struggled slightly too much in closing the car door and buckling himself in. It was his last day in LA that year, and while he supposed it wasn't as horrible as usual, he felt almost suffocated in having to spend so much time with Andy while only getting time to call Joe once over the whole two-week period. "I'm gonna try to sleep on the plane," He said, trying to control how shaky his hands were. Andy nodded and started up the car.

"That's good. I packed ibuprofen if you get a headache."

"I've had a headache for as long as I can remember."

"I know."

Patrick turned up the radio, not caring about the station as much as the noise it provided, and settled his head against the window despite the bumpiness. Things stayed like that for a little while, the radio loud but everything else quiet, but Patrick found himself rather bored after fifteen or so minutes of sitting in traffic. Plus, his mind began reminding him of how horrible his life had been up until that point, and how he truly could never escape from himself. "When did you find out..?" He asked, pulling his head from the window after a particularly bad jolt.

"Be more specific, I've found out a lot about you," Andy said.

"About the drugs, and stuff."

"Oh." Andy looked over at him for a moment, giving him a look, as if it was obvious. "You weren't subtle. I'm pretty sure you told me a month after you started on whatever he was giving you. I knew about it before you started taking stuff to get through shows."

"Was I even seventeen at that point?"

"Yeah. I think everything went to hell a few weeks after your birthday..? Don't quote me on that."

Patrick laughed, a stupid chuckle that he wished he could just get rid of. "I'm kinda glad I got so messed up. It's nice to only have a few bad memories, y'know, even if my therapist hates me for not knowing shit I should know. I know it's against, like, recovery, but I'd be content without any of the nerve and brain stuff ever getting fixed. I can't imagine knowing more about myself, how awful that'd be… don't comment on that, I already know how much you hate me for thinking that."

"I don't hate you."

"Yeah, but I—y'know, it feels like it sometimes."

Andy changed the station and the conversation was over. Patrick returned his head to the window, trying to decide how he'd ask for ibuprofen once they got to the airport.

Even once they got there, the air seemed tense, with Andy entirely unreadable. Patrick felt horrible, knowing he didn't mean what he said earlier but not knowing how to mend things. He pulled his suitcase along and tried to get his vision to focus. Andy kept a hand on his arm, making sure he didn't stray too far, and they got to the terminal with ease. Patrick sat down almost immediately, feeling more and more dizzy as they walked. Andy started digging through his bag once they sat down near their gate.

This airport was nice, big windows letting the cool morning light through to dapple the carpet, but this did nothing but make Patrick's head hurt. There were restaurants and shops along the side of the walkway, and he tried his best to imagine which one Joe would go to if he saw Patrick in the sorry state he was in. "I'm hungry, could you..?" He mumbled, the room spinning when he looked up to Andy.

"Don't want to get up?" He sounded amused.

"I 'unno, I feel… not good."

"I'll get you something, Patrick. What do you want?"

"Don't care."

"Okay. I'll—I'll see what I can do. How about you have water, too?" He pulled a bottle out of his suitcase, and Patrick took it without hesitation. That was probably the cause of the dizziness, he thought, watching Andy walk off to one of the restaurants. He drank the water and relaxed his posture, trying his best to keep down the usual panic of plane rides that was now paired with a rather bad headache.

Andy came back with some sort of pastry in a bag. "Are you mad at me..?" Patrick asked as he took the bag. Inside was a chocolate croissant, warm to the touch.

"Why would I be?" Andy sat down beside him, pulling his suitcase between his legs to keep looking through them. "Have an ibuprofen once you're done eating that, okay?"

"I—yeah, okay. I just… I didn't mean what I said about hating you. I mean, I do feel like that sometimes, but it's not because I hate you, it's more… I dunno. I guess I'm just, like, helpless sometimes, and it makes me frustrated that I need you, or something."

Andy nodded, but didn't immediately respond. Patrick, frankly, hated the second where he didn't speak, wishing Andy would just be less thoughtful and say exactly what he thought. "You'd never tell me this a year ago," He said. "Keep eating your croissant, Patrick, you'll feel better once you do."

Patrick took a bite of it. "When's the plane taking off?" He asked, figuring Andy wouldn't want to hear more of his whining.

"Boarding's in half an hour, I think."

"Cool." He took another bite and reached into his suitcase to find the book he'd been struggling through. His hands had started shaking again, sometime after they got to the gate, and he could barely read a word due to the jitter despite his attempts at subduing himself. "I'm so glad you deal with me," He said, setting down the book after rereading a paragraph a few times without understanding it at all. "I can't imagine being here alone. Do you think Joe or Pete'll meet us at O'Hare?"

"They probably will, I doubt they wouldn't." Andy adjusted himself. "Joe called last night, by the way, but you were asleep. I would've told you earlier, but I forgot."

"Oh, what'd he say?"

"Just 'hi,' and that he missed you."

Patrick took a bite of his croissant. "I wish I could've said hi. Glad you didn't wake me up, my headache would probably be a million times worse if you did."

"You still want ibuprofen?"

"I… yeah."

Andy handed him the bottle.