#tho I do think in this fandom the ones whose faults are discussed the most are like

[turtleblogatlast]

No but like every time I think about Splinter and what he had to go through just to keep the boys alive, my heart hurts for him so badly. Is he perfect? No not at all, but none of them are and by god does he love his sons.

The fact that all of them are alive, and grew to thrive despite the circumstances surrounding them is a testament of how much Splinter loves his boys. He raised four babies following the most traumatic time of his life, all alone with nothing but the sewers to house them (to hide them.) I feel like he’s not given the credit he deserves for all he’s done.

And I get that it’s easy to hold up his flaws and faults when it comes to parenting, I myself like looking into them because flawed characters are super interesting and said flaws make them more realistic and engaging, but he tries, and again, so many others would have given up on the boys or failed along the way but Splinter didn’t.

He’s their father, for all his faults he did his damndest to make sure they survived.

[jowritesthingss]

Un-Convention-al

Fandom: Sanders Sides

Pairing(s): Logince (Logic | Logan + Creativity | Roman)

Rating: Teen (for swearing and Remus being Remus)

Content Warning(s): some swearing, a couple of typical Remus-like comments (nothing too bad here tho), food

Length: 3,679 words

Brief Summary: Soulmate September, day one! While at a convention, Roman ponders his rather unconventional soulmark. And maybe, just maybe...he might find the person whose name is encoded onto his arm.

TS Masterlist + AO3 Links

*

“Heyy, Spock!”

Roman rolled his eyes as his brother raced over to a black-haired, pointy-eared cosplayer. This had to be the stupidest thing he had ever done, and this wasn’t the first time Remus had dragged him into weird shit, so that was really saying something.

Watching as Remus spoke excitedly with the dude, Roman couldn’t help but wonder why he had allowed his brother to drag him to one of his nerd convention thingies. The only acceptable thing about this was that this Captain James T. Kirk character was obviously exactly like him, so even if he was acting as some geeky TV show character, at least it was a valorous protagonist, he supposed.

Roman tapped his foot impatiently, looking around the hotel lobby at all of the booths advertising anime and mango and cartoons and whatnot. Yeah, yeah, he was supposed to be supportive of his brother and whatnot after everything, but couldn’t he have held off the supporting thing until tomorrow, at least? Roman could’ve—should’ve—been across town, meeting that famous soulmate linguist guy that was in town, but nooo.

Remus snagged the cosplayer by the wrist and dragged him over, grinning madly underneath his facial prosthetics. Which, of course Remus had to choose one of the weird characters to cosplay—what was his name? Wolf? Wharf? “You two match! We gotta get a picture!”

“Very well.” Sighing and rolling his eyes, Roman acquiesced, moving over to the poor kid. He slung one terra-cotta arm around the kid’s shoulder, striking up a pose. Best to let Remus have and do what he wanted without fighting too too much; then maybe he’d get tired sooner and they could leave sooner.

Remus backed up, bringing out his phone to take the picture. “All right, say tribble!” Remus called to them.”

“Say what?” Roman puzzled, while the cosplayer said, “That is highly nonsensical and—”

The flash of the camera interrupted them both.

“Fuck yeah,” Remus enthused. He looked appraisingly between Roman and the other cosplayer, and nope, Roman did not like that look one bit. Remus always got that look when he was up to no good. “Say, Spocksie,” he drawled, “if you’re not meeting up with anyone, wanna hang with us today?”

“I could’t possibly intrude in such a manner,” Spock tried to politely decline, weakly attempting to disentangle himself from Roman.

Wait but no, that was actually a good idea for once. If this guy stuck around with them, Roman wouldn’t have to deal with Remus on his own. He could share in the shame.

“Oh, but I insist!” Roman said quickly, tightening his hold ever so slightly. He winked, hoping his stunning self could win over the nerd. “As your captain, I command you,” he joked. Wait, uh. Kirk was Spock’s captain, right? Gosh, there were too many Star Trek series to keep track of. How did Remus do it?

“I...very well, if you insist,” the cosplayer said carefully. “If you truly do not mind.”

“Of course we don’t mind!” Roman let go of the guy to splay a hand across his yellow-clad chest. “I’m sure you’ll love the chance to bask in my glorious presence.”

Spock turned to look at Remus, who was practically vibrating with energy. “Tell, me, is he in character or is he always like this?” He raised an eyebrow. “I do not recall Captain Kirk being so...self-absorbed.”

Roman squawked as beside him Remus howled with laughter, and maybe this wasn’t such a good idea after all.

---

To retaliate for the whole “self-absorbed” comment, Roman sentenced the Spock cosplayer to sitting in a panel for an hour with Remus, while Roman aimlessly played on his phone outside the auditorium, thankful that they only had two tickets and that the rest of the tickets had sold out before they got there.

Judging from the smile on the kid’s face as he and Remus walked out of the door, debating amongst each other, he realized that sitting in a stuffy, crowded fandom panel was probably paradise for a nerd, not a punishment. Ah, well. At least he’d had time to try looking up some new online translators, even if he’d had no luck actually translating what he’d been trying to translate for five years now.

As he stood to meet the two, Roman’s right hand slipped over to his left wrist, where it slipped under the sleeve of his sleeved yellow command shirt and unconsciously began rubbing at the characters tattooed across his skin.

Soulmates were something that everyone had, and without fail, the name of your soulmate appeared on your wrist at thirteen, so there was nothing to be confused about there. And there were so many different languages and writing systems out there that having a name written in a different language or in different characters wasn’t out-of-the-ordinary, either.

What was out-of-the-ordinary, however, was that nobody could decipher the characters written across Roman’s arm.

Five years since he turned thirteen, five years since those weird-looking letters appeared on his wrist—five years of family and friends and schoolmates and teachers and even linguists gaping at them, five years of not being able to figure out what they said, what name and secret they held.

And who knows? Maybe if Roman had gone to meet that linguist instead, today could’ve been the day he finally figured it out.

But no, that wasn’t Remus’ fault. Remus had planned on this con for over a year now. He couldn’t take his frustration out on Remus.

“Did you have fun, nerds?” he asked as he strode up to them.

“I got to ask about pon farr.” Remus grinned leeringly, and Roman wasn’t exactly sure what he was talking about, but he was fairly certain that he didn’t want to know. “And Spocky-wocky here totally nerded out about Klingon.”

“Oh. Uh. Excellent,” Roman said jerkily. Did he want to know what that was, either?

His grumbling stomach made the decision that no, he most decidedly did not. At least, not for the moment.

“Why don’t we find something to eat?” Roman asked the two. “I don’t know about you two, but I myself am famished.”

Remus immediately turned and flounced away from the two of them. “Sounds dee-lightful to me, broski. I saw this stand selling astronaut food!”

Roman and the cosplayer—Roman really would have to ask his name at some point, he couldn’t just keep calling them “Spock”—hurried after Remus, and soon enough, the three were eating (more like gagging on) freeze-dried ice cream, animatedly discussing Kirk and some gal Uhura who apparently had been part of the first interracial kiss on television (“Could be gayer,” Roman said. “Could be gayer,” Remus agreed, staring mournfully at the empty packet in his hand. He had been the only one to actually enjoy the space food.)

The conversation had moved to Kirk and Spock, Remus adamantly insisting that the two had been more than friends and coworkers. He and the Spock cosplayer had a rather lively debate over it—none of which Roman understood in the slightest, so he let himself get distracted. He couldn’t help but wonder what the cosplayer would look like beneath the cosplay. The guy’s bright eyes were mighty pretty while he argued with Remus.

Mid-sentence, Remus’ eyes drifted over to Roman, and he looked away, hoping his staring hadn’t been caught. He wasn’t one to look at people that weren’t his soulmate—all the same, when you didn’t know what your soulmate’s name was, it was quite hard not to. If Remus got any ideas, though, Roman was doomed.

Sure enough, That Look appeared in Remus’ mischievous brown eyes, and he abruptly interrupted the debate to announce that he was going to go buy some more food, racing off before either Roman or the Spock cosplayer could respond.

Roman and the cosplayer instinctively turned to exchange a glance with each other, then Roman quickly looked away, flushing. Now he’d realized that the dude was kinda attractive for a nerd, he couldn’t stop thinking about it.

Great.

“So,” Roman said awkwardly in an attempt to break the awkward silence between the two. He fought the urge to run a hand through his hair, reminding him that Remus’ soulmate would murder him if he messed up the borrowed blond wig.

“So,” the Spock agreed. He paused before continuing, glancing between Roman and Remus. “The two of you are...friends? Boyfriends?”

“Ew. Oh, god, no.” Roman gagged. “Ew ew ew.” He looked across the floor at his brother, standing in line to buy some odd foreign candy or something. “He’s my brother.”

Spock nodded sagely, staring as Remus paid for a handful of...something. “Your brother?”

Roman watched Remus shove the entire handful of candy in his mouth, gagging. “...He’s adopted.”

Roman caught Remus’ eye from across the room, and Remus grinned at him, his deep brown cheeks puffed out like a chipmunk as chunks of something slipped out of his mouth.

“Very adopted,” Roman emphasized.

The cosplayer let out a light chuckle, and oh, that was a nice sound. “You’re clearly out of your depth here. You are a good brother for indulging him in this.”

“I...suppose,” Roman said slowly, tamping down on the sudden rush of guilt over having wanted so badly to leave the convention. “So, do you have any siblings?”

The Spock nodded. “I have a younger brother of my own. Unfortunately, he lives across the country with our mother, so he could not come today.”

“Oh.” Roman blinked. Oh, shit. Had he just brought up a sore subject? Shit. “I’m sorry.”

“It is quite all right,” the cosplayer said mildly. “When we graduate, we have plans to attend the same university, and we see each other enough on holidays.”

“That’s good! That’s good,” Roman said. Oh, by Zeus’ thunderbolt, why were his attempts at maintaining conversation so miserable today? Usually he was so good at this.

Across the floor, Remus seemed quite content eating on his own, not coming back to the two of them standing so awkwardly together. He couldn’t rely on Remus to figure out some dorky topic to talk about.

Finally, grasping at straws, Roman lowered himself to asking about nerdstuffs. “So what was that thing Remus you were talking about during the panel? Cling wrap?”

The cosplayer looked mildly affronted, and dammit, if Roman fucked up again—

“Are you referring to Klingon?” he asked, cocking his head slightly to the side.

“Yeah! That!” Roman rushed out. “What’s that?”

The Spock gazed at him in wonderment. “You truly know nothing about Star Trek, do you.”

Roman shrugged helplessly.

“Klingon is a species of alien, alongside a language,” the cosplayer said, moving his hand up to his face and jerking it away at the last second. “Apologies, I forgot that I was wearing contacts for this cosplay.” He cleared his throat. “Your brother is cosplaying as one of the few Klingon characters, Worf. The Klingons are portrayed largely as bloodthirsty antagonists throughout the series.”

“Ah.” So that was why Remus had chosen to be one of them.

“Personally, I myself am more fascinated in their language than I am anything else,” the Spock explained. “They actually hired a linguist to create an entire language and alphabet for the series. Klingon is one of the most widely-spoken fictitious languages.”

Wait. Roman frowned, confused. “People speak fictitious languages?”

“Well, yes, of course,” the cosplayer said evenly. “All language is made-up, and besides, it is logical that dedicated fans would pick up some throughout the television shows. I myself speak a bit.”

Roman snorted. “What do ya know.” Maybe that’s something he would have to add on his list of language to look up—he had almost exhausted dead languages and alphabets, might as well see if his stupid soulmark matched a fake language. It wasn’t like it could hurt anything; he wasn’t going to find them regardless.

“Aw, you’re not making out?” Remus was back, standing in front of them once more.

“I—no, of course not!” Roman blustered.

“Why ever would you think—” the cosplayer stammered at the same time.

Remus grinned widely at them, flashing a pearly white, seemingly threatening smile.

“Wow! Would you look at the time!” Roman exclaimed loudly, not looking at all at the time. “Why don’t we go and look at some of the booths and tables, Commander Spock!” He grabbed the other cosplayer’s hand and rushed the two of them away as a snickering Remus followed from a distance.

As the trio navigated the crowds of people and tables of merch, Roman ignored the fluttery feeling in his stomach and the childish glee over how the cosplayer had yet to pull his hand out of Roman’s.

---

Before Roman knew it, the end of the day had reached them, and they were ushered out alongside other convention-goers. The rest of the day had passed much more quickly than he had expected, with someone else to share his grief over Remus being Remus, and good hour or two he had completely forgotten why he’d been sulking about going in the first place.

Roman, Remus, and the cosplayer that Roman still hadn’t gotten the name of lingered on the sidewalk outside of the Marriott. There was no real reason for them to stay, but despite the Spock cosplayer’s nerdiness, Roman had discovered a shared interest in Broadway and analyzing Disney, and he almost wanted to ask for the guy’s number, awkward and embarrassing as it was.

But Remus thankfully beat him to the punch. “Say, Jabberspocky, can I get your number? My brother over there is too boring, so he never likes to talk about nerd things. I could use more cute geeks in my life!”

The Spock nodded. “That would be amenable,” he agreed. “It has been most invigorating to discuss the intricacies of the Star Trek universe with you.” The cosplayer swung around to look at Roman, looking almost...nervous? “Would you like to exchange numbers as well? You are a worthy debate opponent when it comes to Disney media.”

“Oh.” That was a compliment, right? Well, Roman was taking it as a compliment. He preened. “Of course! It would be an honor! ...For you, of course.” He grinned jokingly.

The cosplayer rolled his eyes good-naturedly, fishing his phone out of his back pocket, unlocking it, and handing it to Roman. “If you wouldn’t mind filling out your contact information, please.”

“Most certainly!” Roman pulled out his own phone and tossed it at the Spock cosplayer, who just barely caught it with his fingertips. Aw, cute, the nerd was clumsy. He focused in on the phone in his hands, typing in his name and his phone number. “There we go.”

When the cosplayer took his phone back, he glimpsed briefly at their contacts in his phone, then glanced away.

He froze.

Baffled, Roman watched as the cosplayer’s wide eyes retrained themselves down on the cell phone screen.

“Is...is everything all right?” Roman asked, feeling a spark of worry. Did they somehow know each other from elsewhere? Had he or Remus done or said something in the past?

“Oh, my,” the cosplayer said in a slightly-strangled voice. “We...I never asked what your names are, did I?”

“No, I don’t think so.” Roman mock-bowed. “Roman Sanders, at your service.” He gestured over at his brother, grinning. “And that oaf is Remus.”

“Oh, my,” the cosplayer repeated, breathless. He looked almost anxiously up at Roman. “My name is Logan Lehrer.”

Roman smiled reassuringly. “A most lovely name!”

“Is it....” The Spock cosplayer—no, Logan—hesitated. “Is it, by any chance, a familiar name?”

Furrowing his brow slightly, Roman pondered it. “...I don’t believe so,” he said at long last. “Why? Do we know each other from elementary school, or middle school, perhaps?”

“No, I just—” Logan sucked in a breath. He fiddled with the hem of his blue science shirt. “May I—” he said haltingly. “May I see your wrist?”

“My wrist?” Roman tilted his head, bewildered. He held out his right wrist. “Why?”

“No, no, I mean your—here.” Logan reached out a shaky hand, gently grasping at Roman’s left wrist. And—oh.

Oh.

Roman held his breath as Logan slowly tugged back his sleeve. There was no way—was there? Or...maybe?

Logan stared at the white symbols etched across Roman’s tannish brown skin. The five symbols, Roman now realized. Five symbols, five letters...just like Logan’s name, maybe?

Then Logan began to laugh.

Roman blinked. He had only known the guy for, like, six hours, max, but the quiet, reserved nerd he had seen so far did not seem like the type to burst into mad fits of laughter.

“Are—are you all right?” Roman asked, totally lost. What was happening here?”

“Oh my—” Logan wheezed, and Roman now was genuinely concerned. Should he call an ambulance? Should he go back inside and find the medics they had at the event?

“Whatever is going on that’s so funny?” Roman questioned.

Trying and failing to speak through the chuckles running through his body, Logan rolled up the sleeve of his shirt and practically shoved his wrist in Roman’s face, still trembling from laughter and nearly whacking him in the face.

“Oi—” Roman prepared to snap, mildly offended, but the name written across Logan’s wrist caught the words in his throat.

Roman.

Sweet Sif, Roman was Logan’s soulmate. That meant—

That meant Logan was Roman’s soulmate. That mean that, whatever language it was written in, Logan’s name was written on his arm. Logan’s. Logan.

“It’s,” Logan wiped a tear of mirth from the corner of his eye, straightening up and slowly composing himself again. “Th-that is my name on your wrist, Roman.”

“It is?” he heard himself say dumbly, as if from a distance away, still not sure that this was really happening.

“It is,” Logan confirmed. He carefully lifted Roman’s wrist to his face and traced the characters with a thin fingertip.

Roman bit back a whimper. Oh, god, he never wanted Logan to stop touching him. Hell if that sounded inappropriate.

“This is my name,” Logan said, struggling to maintain a straight face, “in Klingon.”

Roman was silent for a good minute, processing this information, until finally he realized, “Wait, Klingon? Like, that made-up alien nerd language?”

Logan’s cool facade cracked, and he grinned down at Roman’s wrist, cheeks a rosy red. “Indeed, it is ‘that made-up alien nerd language’ Klingon.”

“Why the hell...?” Roman wondered, bemused.

“I am afraid that I have no idea,” Logan informed him, still scrutinizing Roman’s wrist. “There have been records of soulmate names being written in Ancient Greek and the like before, but I don’t think anyone has recorded any in Klingon before.”

Roman could have puzzled over this for ages more, but as it finally occurred to him, this was his soulmate standing in front of him. Shouldn’t he do something about that?

Wriggling his left wrist out of Logan’s loose grasp, he cupped the other teen’s face gently in his hands. Logan’s pale whitish green makeup was coming off in his hands, and the two of them no doubt looked ridiculous from an outsider’s perspective, but he found that it didn’t matter to him in the moment.

“I must say,” Roman said quietly. “While unexpected, this is most certainly not an unwelcome development.” A suave grin danced its way across his face. “I’ve been eyeing you all day, cutie.”

Logan’s breath puffed out softly against Roman’s face. “I....” The loquacious cosplayer seemed lost for words again as he pressed closer. “I—”

“Oh, go get a room already!” a warbly voice interrupted them.

Roman and Logan sprang apart, their cheeks heating up equally in embarrassment.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Remus grumped. “I’m still here.” After a moment, though, he brightened. “Oh, wait! This means you two can go on double dates with me and Janus and we can make out and embarrass you!”

“Please, do not,” Roman groaned, He reached out for Logan once more, reveling in the tiny squeak he let out, and he buried his face in Logan’s hair. “You ruin everything, asshole.” It was a playful jab, though; without Remus there to drag him to the convention, he might not have ever even met Logan.

So it had been a good thing after all that Roman had gone with Remus to this geeky convention thing, instead of to hear that linguist’s lecture. All the linguists in the world couldn’t have helped him beyond deciphering the words on his wrist. All the linguists in the world couldn’t have quite literally grabbed his soulmate by the arm and dragged him over, like Remus did.

“Thank god!” Remus realized, gleeful. “This means you’ll finally stop complaining about being lonely forever!”

“We’re soulmates,” Logan realized, sluggish. “We—I have your name on my wrist. You have my name on your wrist.”

“Oh my god,” Roman realized, dismayed. “This means I have a nerd language stuck on my arm for the rest of my life!”

Although, if it meant being with Logan for the rest of his life...perhaps a permanent nerd tattoo was a small price to pay.

Roman untangled himself from Logan and pulled away, biting back a grin when Logan instinctively chased after him. “Wanna come get milkshakes with us?”

“That would be satisfactory.” Logan nodded his assent. “However, we might want to take off our cosplays first.”

“Nah,” Roman dismissed. As a theatre kid he’d been to plenty of Steak ’n Shakes in full stage makeup, and he was pretty sure all the local Cookouts knew his order by heart at this point. “That’s part of the fun!”

Roman reached out and grasped Logan’s hand in his own, pulling him with as Remus began honest-to-god skipping to the car. The three broke into easy banter about the best milkshake flavors, and this time Roman couldn’t hold back the grin as Logan passionately decried the practice of dipping fries in shakes.

A small price to pay, indeed.

Fin

Day 1 || Day 2

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Day one of @tsshipmonth2020​ ’s Soulmate September! I’m almost an hour late in my time zone, but hey! It’s still September first in Alaska, so this totally counts as on time! ...Right?

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