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subtlereferencetomyinterests · 4 years

Text

Hypothetically,

Ao3, MasterPost

Relationships: Romantic Intrulogical, Platonic Logince

It is about! Damn! Time! That I wrote some Intrulogical! Also, y’all already know my stance on platonic logince,,,, guys they ARE best friends i’m sorry I don’t make the rules.

Warnings: Angst (with a happy ending). mentions of stuff like autopsies and nuclear explosions in the context of like experiments- they do stuff in The Imagination, basically. Panic attack (?). Hurt/comfort. Pretty heated kissing; It’s more intense makin’ out than I usually write but it isn’t anything explicit at all, don’t worry! ADHD Remus and Autistic Logan. Cursing- like So Much Cursing. Mentions of space, deep sea, etc. Food mention.

Word count: 6,769

There was a conundrum.

A., Logan needed to use the Imagination. B., He could not use it on his own, considering that he was Logic. C., Roman was nowhere to be found. The answer to what was frustrating Logan at that moment would be all of the above.

To be clear, he didn’t like going into the Imagination. It was simply the only suitable place to perform his ‘experiments’. His very necessary, very distracting experiments. But, as stated, Roman was God-knows-where doing God-knows-what.

Logan sighed at the door, as though it was the inanimate structure’s fault. The cracks gleamed obnoxiously bright, golden light pouring out from behind the door in a somewhat eerie manner. It was a nonsensical, unrealistic, completely insignificant place, and he wanted in.

Logan was contemplating asking Janus for help (lies took imagination, right?) when, out of nowhere, an arm was thrown around his shoulders. Literally an arm, disembodied and oozing sick-smelling blood onto the carpet. Ah. Wonderful.

“Hello, Remus,” he pulled the appendage from around him, holding it at arm’s length (no pun intended, dammit).

“Hi!” Remus took his arm back and reattached it with a disturbing crunch, a grin stretching his face. He sidled up to Logan, imitating the side’s stance in front of the door.

“Can I help you with something?” the logical trait tilted his shoulder away from where Remus had pressed against him.

“Not unless you’re willing to get really messy- but I can help you!”

“I’m afraid I don’t know what you’re implying.”

The Duke rolled his eyes, promptly flinging the door to The Imagination open. An encompassing energy radiated into the common room, corrupting the usual neutrality of the space. It didn't last long before Remus grabbed Logan’s wrist and dragged him along through the entryway, movements as sporadic and fast-paced as everything else about the creative.

“It’s not very logical to just stand there staring at the door all day, in my opinion. I dunno what you need Imagination for, but whatever it is, I can help! My half is much more interesting, anyway.”

“Oh,” Logan blinked, narrowly ducking his head under a branch as he was pulled forward, “Thank you, I suppose.”

He politely didn’t mention that he doubted Remus’ capacity for helpfulness. Beggars can’t be choosers, after all.

The door from the commons was quite a walk from the darker half of The Imagination, but at the pace its owner had them going they were there in minutes. The border was marked with tangles of densely thorned shrubbery, which parted for them, as if they sensed the approach. Logan just barely avoided snagging his shoe on one as they passed.

There was forest, twisted and shadowy, for only a minute. After that, they were in a city, with tall buildings and winding streets and dark alleys. Another switch, they came into what seemed like an amusement park. Nothing was consistent in theme, and none of the scenes held up for more than a minute or two. Remus shook his head and tisked. With a snap, a good portion of the ever-changing scenery was erased, leaving blank white space. The Duke turned to look at Logan with a satisfied smile.

“Ta-da! What do you need?”

Logan blanched for a moment, surprised at Remus’ willingness to completely delete Imaginings without a second thought. It usually took Roman ages to find a spot that he was okay with giving up on for Logan’s “projects”- which he always had thought was a little silly, seeing as he could bring it back when they were done. The change of pace was a pleasant one, though, so there was no need to dawdle for long.

“I need a miniature fully-functioning model of our solar system. If it’s not too much trouble.”

“Oh, totally,” Remus waved his hand and the request appeared suspended in the air, spread out to be the size of a dining table. All was accounted for- sun, moons, eight planets plus pluto- orbiting and spinning around each other. Imagination, by nature, had no real limits, but the detail was still a sight to behold every time. Logic smiled, surveying the set-up, before gesturing to the edge of their blank section.

“Thank you for the help, you may go.”

“May I now?” Remus conjured a seat for himself, staring at Logan with his chin resting on his hands, “You’re not even going to tell me what this is for? That’s just rude.”

Logan glanced up from the tiny earth he was inspecting, tilting his head to the side in confusion.

“You are welcome to stay, if you wish, but your brother usually leaves at this point. He says my experiments are-” he summons his notebook, “‘Bore-ifying’, which I assume is a portmanteau for ‘boring’ and ‘horrifying’.”

“Roman’s a big baby!”

Logan shrugged, not disagreeing, and resumed his careful observation of the tiny model earth. Remus made no move to go, wheeling his chair even closer. The scientific side carried on before his new audience of one, hovering a hand over the little planet. Abruptly, it stopped spinning. Logan made a gesture with his hand that magnified the model significantly.

The results were immediately catastrophic. Logan jotted a few observations down in his notebook, watching closely at the ways torrents of wind ripped up trees and buildings. In the back of his mind, he was faintly impressed by just how well-rendered ‘Dark’ Creativity’s earth was, down to the individual humans, brutalized by the storms.

“Whoah, what the fuck?!”

Logan looked up briefly to see Remus craning his head over the destruction of the stilled planet. His eyes were wide and bright with curiosity.

“Oh- I should probably explain. I come here, usually, to run some improbable scenarios as a sort of stress-reliever. Specifically, this one is what would happen if earth stopped spinning on its axis. As you can see, due to the earth no longer rotating at its usual speed, the wind would continue on at-” he cut himself off abruptly, sensing the beginnings of a ramble, “I’m sorry, I’ve been told that I have a tendency to ‘go off’ when a subject particularly interests me.”

Remus rolled his chair even closer, looking much like an excited animal (more so than usual, anyway).

“Well then, go off! Don’t leave me hanging! Is that really what would happen, just if it stopped?” He gestured enthusiastically to the way that the oceans had begun to crash against and consume shorelines. He looked interested- genuinely interested.

Logan bit back a smile. He didn’t have to be told twice.

It was one of those particularly restless nights. For no foreseeable goddamn reason, Logic’s mind had become alight with enough half-formed thoughts and barely sensible ideas to fill a very, very weird book. The Imagination did wonders when he got like this, but it usually wasn’t two in the morning when he needed to use it. That wasn’t to say the circumstance was unheard of, but all times prior he could push the urge to investigate away with the reasoning that he could just ask Roman in the morning, and that the Creative side needed his ‘beauty sleep’, as he called it. There wasn’t anything he could do about that, was there?

Tonight was different. Logan could hear the occasional snap or tear or cackle from the room across from his. Remus’ room.

It had been less than a week since The Duke let him use the darker half of the Mindpalace, and that was pretty much the only meaningful interaction they’d had in as many days. They weren’t close, Logan wasn’t even sure if they were friends (not that he was a good judge of that, given the first time Roman referred to them as ‘besties’ he had all but cried), but Remus was at the very least an option. He was also unlikely to mind, given that he was already awake and had exhibited excitement previously.

Logan made up his mind after yet again failing to fall asleep. Quietly, he opened his door and took the few short steps across the hall, raising his fist. Remus’ door was open before his second knock.

“Oh, hey! What are you doing, coming knocking at this hour?” he didn’t even try to whisper, accompanying his statement with an over-exaggerated wink. Logan didn’t waste his time trying to shush the side.

“Good evening, I hope I’m not interrupting anything-”

“You know I don’t mind your ‘interruptions’, Twunk-y Megamind!”

“-But I was wondering if you would… Help me, again. I seem to be having a hard time getting to sleep, and I think that getting out some of my ideas could help.”

Remus’ face lit up dramatically.

“Oh hell yes! Are we gonna blow up more planets?”

“Something like that,” he kept his voice monotone, disguising the relief and hint of pride at such a positive reaction.

“Well, come on!”

Logan let himself be dragged into Remus’ room, barely having time to make note of the surprisingly organized layout before he was pulled through a sleek black door.

“But you have to tell me about it,” he ordered, twisting them through narrow paths in his half of The Imagination. Logan suppressed a smile.

“If you want to hear it, then I’m happy to.”

Without warning, they stopped the breakneck pace that Remus moved at. The trait seemed appeased with their surroundings, though as far as Logan could tell it was just another piece of ever-shifting ominous landscape.

Remus snapped his fingers. The scene remained intact.

“Sorry,” he glanced around nervously, “Things get stuck in my head sometimes. Can’t get ‘em out. I’ll get it, I just-”

“It’s no trouble.”

Logan rolled up his sleeves. He didn’t like using his ‘abilities’ much, as every side had some set of special skills, and all of them were much too ostentatious. But they were helpful, at times. He waved a hand, gesturing carefully so that he didn’t dismantle any more of The Imagination than was absolutely necessary. With a small stutter, the landscape shifted to a blank slate.

When he looked back up, Remus’ expression was not unlike that of a Cheshire cat.

“What was that?”

“I am Logic, therefore it follows that I am the antithesis to any Imagination creations. It’s very easy to erase them with just a bit of rationality.”

“No clue what a lot of those words meant, but it’s still cool that you can destroy shit.”

Laughing was unbecoming, to say the least, and so the logical trait tended to avoid it at all costs. The snort that escaped him was entirely involuntary.

If Remus noticed the noise, he said nothing about it. He was too busy bouncing from foot to foot, expectantly waiting for instructions. Logan cleared his throat of the outburst and clapped his hands together.

“Alright, let’s start with something simple…”

At his request, Remus would construct immaculately detailed creatures, settings, and models, watching gleefully at the ordeals Logan put each one through. They tested various and progressively elaborate ways to sink populated cruise liners, they simulated the effects of falling from the Empire State Building, dissected approximations of obscure marine animals (a shared special interest of theirs, apparently), and any of the other unrealistic questions that occurred to the typically rational Logic.

The only way to get such questions from his mind, he’d found out a long time ago, was deconstructing them one step at a time, to see them in their full ridiculousness.

It was also, he was coming to realize, incredibly fun.

Before the two knew it, the already late hour had turned unreasonable. Logan blinked owlishly at his watch, distracted from the tiny supernova that he’d created.

“Oh, I must have lost track of time,” four in the morning. Four in the morning!

“Aw, does that mean we’re done?” Remus whined, yet he still began unmaking his small star system.

Logan was suddenly very aware of the heaviness of his eyelids and a rubbery feeling in his limbs. God, was he tired.

“I’m afraid so. I really should’ve gone to sleep hours ago.”

“Fine,” Remus dragged the word out with a groan, “But let me know next time you wanna fuck with space, or deep sea stuff, or anything like that.”

Next time.

As much as Logan adored Roman, there was something very nice about having the more grim brother help him out with these experiments. For one, his creations were often much more accurate to the real world- likely because gore and destruction were that much more impactful when they were realistic. For two, he actually seemed to enjoy the work.

Logan’s deliberation was brief.

“I will.”

As it happened, the night spent delving into dozens of ideas had purged Logan’s need to use The Imagination, for the time being. Clearly, Remus was not patient enough to wait for him.

He popped up, unannounced, in Logic’s room.

“Lo!!!”

The trait in question fell out of his office chair in a very undignified way. Not that there’s a particularly dignified way to fall out of a chair, but if there was, this definitely wouldn’t have been it. He ‘ate shit’, as the saying goes.

Out of pure embarrassment, Logan made no move to get off the floor.

“Hello, Remus,” he greeted, “How may I help you?”

The Duke laughed raucously, sprawling into the now-unoccupied chair and leaning over him.

“You’re a riot, Dork,” then, added with glittering eyes, “Did you break anything?”

“No. Given that I am metaphysical, I’m not sure that I have bones.”

“I have bones!”

“Are they your bones?”

“They are bones and they are in my possession, yes.”

Logan let the subject drop and repeated his first question.

“Right, I forgot! I have an idea for an experiment!”

Logan thought that, despite his mild humiliation, it would probably benefit the conversation if he wasn’t lying on the ground, so he stopped doing that. Brushing mostly imaginary dust from his clothes, he shot Remus a bemused look.

“That’s nice. But I was asking you why you were here.”

The Duke’s face fell, almost imperceptibly.

“I thought you’d wanna know, because of what you said last time. Isn’t this, like, a thing we do now? You know how shit works, and I know how to make that shit, and then you can tell me about it!”

Oh.

“Remember when you were talking about radiation the other day? You can’t just say stuff like that and then not expect me to want to try it out, so really this is on you. It’d be dumb not to let you in on it.”

Oh.

He’d been listening to that rant? Moreover, he’d remembered it, and now had his own ideas and follow-up questions about it?

Logan felt light-headed.

“You’re probably too busy with work, huh? I guess my explosions don't have to be accurate, if you’re set on being boring,” Remus’ tone was nonchalant, but he was obviously lingering for attention. Logan then remembered that words are a thing, and people use them to communicate.

“No! I mean, yes- I mean, I’m not busy. I can join you, I- I’d like to, even,” the intelligent side heard a small voice in his head, his own miniature Virgil, screaming- what the fuck was that, get it together, Jesus, because he, despite what his fellow sides insisted, was absolutely nonfunctional when trying to form a friendship.

Remus didn’t seem to notice or care much past his own cheer.

“Cool!” he, yet again, wasted no time in seizing Logan’s arm and yanking him away, “I wanted to see what would happen to animals and plants and stuff bunches of years after lots of radiation! Do you think they’d mutate? Get all twisted and fucked up so that they aren’t even recognizable as, say, a dog?”

Logan considered the question as he was led through the Mindpalace.

“Well, nothing would be able to live there at all. Additionally, anything within a little under a mile of the nuclear fallout- depending on a few variables- would be completely incinerated upon impact.”

“Like, flesh-melting incinerated?”

“More like vaporized. The fireball would burn 10,000 times the heat of the sun.”

Remus went starry eyed, bringing them to a halt a mere five feet from the door.

“I wanna see that,” he waved his hands around at their surroundings, “Can you do the white-out thing?”

Logan, much less hesitant than last time, obliged. A small smile escaped him at the wondrous look on The Duke’s face. It was another form of expression he didn’t particularly care for, but containing his emoting was more trouble than it was worth by now. He couldn’t find it in him to care much either, for once.

“Where do we start?” Remus prompted.

“You tell me. I will help you make it as accurate as possible, and provide any insight that you want, but it is your idea,” and he wanted to hear more about those ideas. Odd and violent, mesmerizing and clever. There was so much that he wanted to hear about, to talk about, to puzzle out together.

Logan couldn’t remember the last time he’d had someone to share such interests with. Maybe, despite how deeply he cared for his ‘family’, as Patton called them- maybe it was never.

Remus chattered as he worked, disrupting the train of thought. Logan almost tuned it out- after all, everyone had grown perfectly used to The Duke’s rambling- but he caught himself. That was hardly how he should treat the side that was so strangely considerate to him, wasn’t it?

Logan listened from then on. He began to add on to the conversation, corrections and elaborations and actual questions, because he actually didn’t know some of it. He didn’t regret the choice.

By the end, Remus and Logan were sitting together in the smoldering ruins of their make-believe test town, exchanging notes for different variables they could use in the next trial. They only stopped when Logan was abruptly summoned away by Thomas. He excused himself, a bit apologetic, promising to visit again soon.

As he helped Thomas (with what really should have been a simple task, honestly), Logic wondered briefly about the origins of the hollow feeling that grew in his chest. Something distracted, longing, and unfamiliar.

And then the oven caught fire, and the only thing he felt was annoyance with the man that he was somehow a component of.

So, that was that- Logan and Remus were friends, now spent regular time together, and shared interests. By all accounts, it was a simple and obviously positive development.

But then there was Roman.

“What’s wrong with my work? You’d really prefer whatever edgy 12-year-old DeviantArt account nonsense that he thinks up?”

Logan set his book down with a sigh and looked over to his doorway, where Roman stood with his hands on his hips.

“Come in, Roman, and thank you for knocking,” he snarked. The Creative side made a vaguely sassy noise, trotting right in and flopping backwards onto the bed. Without closing the door, the monster.

“I thought that building your Weird Science contraptions was our thing.”

Logan made a show of standing up and manually shutting his door before responding.

“You don’t like my ‘contraptions’, as you call them.”

“Yeah, but I still made them for you! Because we’re friends, but I suppose you’ve forgotten all about that!”

He really should have expected the melodrama. And yet, Logan had lived in a delusional world where he didn’t care about the most Extra being on earth.

With an eye roll, Logic dropped down beside Roman on the bed- though he wasn’t half as flamboyant about it.

“I can have more than one friend.”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be your favorite! We’re supposed to hang out together! Do the friendship bracelets I made mean nothing to you?”

He flung his arm across Logan’s chest, a ‘friendship bracelet’ clearly visible on his wrist (a loose usage of the term, given that it was a solid gold band with inlaid sapphires, because of course it was).

Logan held up his arm as well, showing that his (silver with inlaid rubies) was still very much in use, despite his distaste for jewelry.

“We hang out plenty. It wasn’t my intention to hurt your feelings by spending time with your brother. My reason for doing so is that he seems to take active enjoyment in building and learning about these things with me. He also makes very good conversation, in regards to the more, ah, eccentric experiments.”

Roman tossed his head to the side to watch Logan with narrowed eyes. After a pause, he linked their arms at the elbow.

“Yeah, you would think that. You’re secretly just as much of a weirdo as him.”

“I wouldn’t go that far.”

“Oh please, I can barely keep up with a word that either of you say,” Roman headbutted Logan’s shoulder in what was likely another of his odd displays of affection. He let his head rest there for a minute, a rare instance of peace before he inevitably resumed talking.

“Anyways-”

“Anyway,” Logan corrected.

“Anyways, if you nerds wanna talk about your weird, creepy experiments, then I guess that’s fine. But he isn’t allowed to co-opt anything else that we do together that we both actually like- no making fun of movies together, no Crofters jams, and no poetry-slash-rap battles.”

“Of course not, Roman. You will always be my favorite person to disagree with.”

“Love you, too,” Creativity bumped him again, then sat up to stretch. Logan snorted a laugh and considered shoving Roman off the bed, watching as he raised his arms up and straightened his back. Before the trait had the chance, unfortunately, his friend was already standing.

“Leaving already? Weren’t you just going on about spending time together?”

“Nah, that was all I wanted to yell at you about for now. I’ve gotta go help Pat with dinner.”

“Well, don’t let me keep you.”

“Thanks, I won’t.”

“I hate you.”

“Ditto.”

Halfway out the door, Roman threw a glance over his shoulder.

“Oh, and whatever you two end up doing, do not give me the details. Please.”

Okay, finally, that really was that. Friendship established, blessings given, the end. A simple symbiosis.

Logan was thinking about the practical uses of medieval torture devices? Remus. He wanted to see exactly how long it would take your average healthy adult to succumb to drowning? Remus. Logan wanted to just rant, about anything and everything, his brain moving a mile a minute? Remus. They spent an inordinate amount of time together.

Occasionally, when he didn’t even have the energy to converse, he would sit down with a book in the commons when he knew Remus was there and let the trait’s never ending word-vomit wash over him. It was an odd sort of intimacy, but that fit within the theme of their dynamic. Like he said, simple symbiosis.

And that was when the not-very-platonic fondness grew. And Logan, to his own surprise, allowed it to.

After deep consideration he had seen no reason not to; Remus wouldn’t judge him, not ever. It put a name to the hollow longing that occurred whenever he, eventually, had to get back to work and part from their talks.

He hadn’t sorted out what to do about the feeling yet, but he felt no urgency.

Logan’s book lay forgotten in his lap, that morning being one of the quiet ones as he reflected on his unfamiliar emotions. It was almost nice, letting such affection curl up in his chest and settle there.

His contemplation was broken by a sharp jab to his shoulder.

“Are you listening to me?”

He tilted his head at Remus.

“Sorry, I got distracted.”

“What were you thinking about?” his eyes lit up, very obviously hoping for it to be something disgusting. Logan glanced away, given that he didn’t even like eye-contact in the best of circumstances.

“Nothing important. You have my attention now.”

Remus rolled his eyes with a huff, apparently genuinely irritated.

“Well now I forgot what I was saying.”

“Let’s backtrack: what were you talking about before?”

“I don’t know.”

“That’s fine, we can talk about something else.”

The irritation had grown to something unrecognizable to Logan- frustrating, given how closely he tried to study body language. He felt a stab of guilt as Remus stood up from his spot.

“It probably didn’t matter. I’m gonna go annoy Janus.”

“Oh,” Logan’s voice was small, “Alright, then.”

He was already gone.

That was… concerning. Not to mention bewildering; Remus didn’t just pass up opportunities to talk! He didn’t just leave, not even when he wasn’t wanted! Logan really hadn’t thought his zoning out would earn such a reaction.

But he was far from perceptive about emotional problems. There was no way to know if it was anything to throw a fit over. For all he knew, it was just an off-day. He couldn’t always expect his friend to be rambunctious and energetic, even if that was a big part of his personality.

The issue would likely resolve itself.

The issue did not do that. It did the polar opposite, speeding from mildly concerning to downright frightening at a whiplash-inducing pace.

Remus barely asked questions and almost never offered insight, as he usually did when they spent time together. In fact, his contributions had become rare and unenthusiastic enough that he could have passed as neurotypical, however disturbing the thought was. And that was when they did end up spending time together, which was becoming less and less often, much to the dismay of one significantly smitten smart side.

Something was very clearly wrong with Remus. Not the demented, destructive, mildly endearing and unhinged sort of wrong. It was the wrong sort of wrong.

Logan was hesitant to confront him outright. After a couple weeks of careful consideration, a more subtle solution occurred to him, as he idly flipped through a very graphic murder-mystery late into the night. Something bloody, and awful, and very much Remus’ taste. He set the novel down, knowing full well that his friend would be wide awake as he made his way across the hall.

“Remus?” he knocked at the side’s door, wearing a smile much wider than he usually liked. He was more than willing to express exuberance, if there was even the slightest chance that it would be infectious.

The door decidedly did not fly open. Rather, after a good deal of wrapping at it, Remus slowly pulled it back and poked his head out.

“Oh. Hey.”

Logan didn't dwell on the concern that reaction brought. He had something that would cheer Creativity up, of that he was sure.

“I have a test tonight- it’s going to be very messy,” he began, searching the impulsive trait’s eyes for any signs of interest. There was the slightest glint, but not much more.

“So, you want me to make stuff for you?” His speech was monotonous.

“Yes, that was the idea. It’s going to be gory.”

Hardly a reaction. All Remus did was open the door the rest of the way to allow Logan inside. Clearly, he had underestimated just how poorly his friend felt.

“Alright, I’ll set it up for you. Just don’t take too long, I was actually hoping to use my part of the Mindscape today.”

Logan nodded, very taken aback. He couldn’t ignore the slight hurt at the cold, dismissive tone (the irony of that wasn’t lost on him).

They stepped foot into The Imagination and immediately Remus stopped, destroying whatever had been in front of them- which was usually fine, it was just how he operated, but normally out of enthusiasm, not apathy. Maybe this was more than could be fixed with some blood and guts.

“What do you need?”

Logan conjured a tiny notebook, giving a tentative smile. Still, he was giving this plan a shot.

“Operating table,” one appeared before him, sleek metal with rolly legs, “A standard set of surgical tools,” he looked up to gauge Remus’ interest, but his expression still hadn’t changed as he continued to create, “A human corpse, and then we can get started.”

With a wave, a perfectly generic body fell onto the table, but Logan’s attention remained on The Duke.

“Great, have fun, let me know when you’re finished.”

Logan faltered, watching him turn to leave.

“You- you aren’t going to stay and do this with me?”

“You want me to?” Remus crossed his arms over his chest and fixed Logan with a gaze that could (figuratively) wilt flowers.

“I- Yes? If you aren’t at all interested right now, then I can save this experiment for another day?” Yeah, this wasn’t working, but Logan had no backup.

“No, no, don’t wait for me, you’ve already got everything you need, right?”

“I mean- technically, yes, but it- it wouldn’t be the same.”

Remus cackled, sounding quite like the cartoonish villain that he often acted as. It hurt to listen to.

“So that’s what this is about! Let me just fix you up, then!”

He snapped, and a blank humanoid form appeared at his side. It tilted its faceless head curiously at Logan, who recoiled.

“Not good enough? Is a hunk of nothing too unrealistic for you?” he snapped again, and the being suddenly transformed to match its creator exactly.

Nearly exactly: it wore an enthusiastic grin, eyes wide and sparkling, rather than the steadily building fire that raged in real-Remus’ eyes. It spoke in a disgustingly cheery tone.

“Wow, tell me more! Show me that again? What happens when you do that? You’re just so interesting, Lo!”

Remus watched the creation, a look of one part pride and a million parts resentment.

“Is that what you want? It’s just like me, but without any of the hassle of being another person that you have to deal with! And this one, you really can get rid of whenever you want, isn’t that great?”

Logan looked between the two, a fearful understanding creeping up his spine. There was something he was missing here, wasn’t there?

“No,” he muttered, half to the fake-Duke and half to the real one.

“No?” Remus spat, circling his mirror, “No, of course, you’re so right. This isn’t nearly enough.”

He made an elaborate gesture, and about a dozen more Creativities appeared, surrounding them. Logan stumbled back from them, nearly tripping on the operating table that they’d previously made. When he looked up, the real Remus was approaching him with an expression that fought its way between guilt and indignation. It was all at once heart-wrenching and frightening.

Logan tried to right himself, tried to look unaffected and certain of himself, as he raised his voice. He would not let this go a step farther, despite his confusion.

“Stop,” and with that, a wave rocked across The Imagination, and all was erased. In the aftermath he stood before a teary-eyed Remus (just the one, though), uncharacteristically looking like a stiff wind would knock him right over.

“What’s wrong? I gave you what you wanted!”

Logan reeled.

“Why would you think I wanted any of that?”

“You wanted an experiment, I gave you one! You wanted a willing audience, I gave you twelve! But I guess I just get everything wrong, right?”

“You know that isn’t true,” Logan felt choked, his words clumsy. It was foreign and horrible and disgusting, but he’d trudge through it all if it meant fixing whatever he’d done wrong. It couldn’t have just been him losing focus once? Could it?

“Oh, of course, I do just enough to be useful. So I’ve got that right; I’m a good utensil. Is it so much to ask that people would care about me, not just what I can do?” he posed a rhetorical oozing with vitriol, but it quickly evaporated into something much more desperate, “What if it’s my fault? It was my idea, I wanted to help. I don’t know why I thought you’d care past all that, did I give you a reason to? I can’t remember. It might make more sense that way, if I were the problem, wouldn’t it?”

Logan was running out of time to fix this, watching Remus curl in on himself, barely keeping from falling to the floor. He had no clue how The Duke had reached the conclusion that he didn’t care about him! They spent nearly all their free time together: sitting next to each other just to have the company, throwing each other tricky and often troubling questions to answer, constantly toiling away at things in The Imagination. Sometimes, they didn’t even need to talk, they just worked together in rapt silence; Remus did the creating and Logan arranged his work just so, and- Wait. Wait. Wait.

Logan didn’t need to talk, or touch, for that matter. Perhaps it was a mistake to presume the same for such a needy, affectionate, boisterous side?

No, not perhaps, it was a huge mistake. A major fuck-up, if you will.

He’d thought, if the blunt side had needed such comforts, surely he would initiate it? He hardly shied away from anything, except, well.

Except. Feelings.

God, he was the dumbest smart person in the world.

“Oh, Remus…”

The Duke’s head jerked up, continuing his back-and-forth of desperation and rage.

“I don't need your pity!”

Logan sighed, twisting the end of his tie in frustration.

“That isn't what I'm offering,” he took a breath before continuing, linking the words together so it would come out right. “I'm so sorry, I didn't take into account how you would interpret our interactions. I thought it was obvious that I cared for you, that I didn't need to say it outright. Clearly… I was wrong. So, if you need more than what I previously expressed- which I'm now realizing was very little in the eyes of someone who is not me- then I am happy to provide that for you.”

Remus was shaken, a good deal of his ire slipping away. Whether that was good or bad remained unclear.

Before it could be overthought, Logan crossed the remaining few feet between them and brought his arms around The Duke in his loose approximation of a hug. The trait froze, but he didn't pull away.

Physical affection, check.

“I value your companionship more than I'm entirely sure how to verbalize. You understand me in a way that most others don’t seem to. While your ability to make detailed creations is very helpful, it is hardly the only thing I appreciate about you.

“For one, you make me laugh. A lot. More than I'm used to. Additionally, you can easily match the pace with which I speak, or change topics! And, you are so much smarter than you make yourself out to be,” Logan finished the spiel with a smile, genuinely proud at his ability to articulate such… sentimental things, with relative ease. Words of affirmation, check.

He snapped back to attention when Remus brought shaking hands up to Logan's chest. For a moment, he worried that Remus would shove him away. The fears dissipated when all he did was bunch the front of Logan's shirt in his hands and hold on tight.

“Do you mean that,” his volume was low, “Or do you just want me to calm down?”

Logan tightened his grip around him and, following a motion that he'd seen Patton employ many times to great success, he rubbed up and down his back.

“I understand that it might be hard for you to trust me, but I promise I'm not lying to you. I would have to be pretty awful to do something like that, wouldn't I?”

Hesitantly, Remus nodded against his collar. A good sign, but there was one thing left he had to say.

“And- If you need further convincing- then you should know. I love you.”

Remus stilled. He then unfisted his hands from Logan's shirt. It was an anticipatory second before he threw his arms around the logical trait and finally returned the hug. His hold was crushing, and it was the most comforting thing that Logan had ever felt.

They were okay.

“I'm sorry I-”

Logan didn’t let him finish the apology.

“Don't be. You didn't know how I felt, because I hadn't communicated it in a way you understood. That is hardly your fault.”

Remus nodded again, remaining much quieter than he’d probably ever been in his entire existence.

They held each other for longer than either would like to admit, speaking softly.

“Thanks,” was muttered against Logan’s shoulder.

“Of course. Just so you know, I'm more than willing to do this again whenever you need reassurance.”

“It might be a lot,” his tone was turning more mischievous, more him, “Are you sure you can handle that?”

“Absolutely.”

Logan hardly minded having an opportunity to gush about Remus to Remus. Not to mention, the physical affection was even nicer than he'd imagined it being. And oh, had he imagined it.

Remus' face returned to his usual ever-present zeal, and he ended their hug to bounce in place.

“Great! I'm good now! We can get on with that autopsy you wanted to show me- there better be buckets of blood!”

Logan shifted his weight.

“Maybe we should save that for another day.”

“Oh,” Remus' face fell the smallest bit, “Okay.”

Logan was quick to amend:

“By that I mean, I have something better in mind.”

Remus curled himself up in Logan’s lap, his eyes barely focused on the TV as the side carded his hands through his tangled mop of hair. Final Destination 3 played on the television (he had assured Logan that they didn't need to see the first two, and he was mostly right), serving as an excuse for the two to drink in each other's company.

It was right in the middle of a particularly graphic rollercoaster scene that Remus took Logan's hands from his hair to hold them, twisting around to face him.

“Is something wrong, Remus?”

“You told me you loved me,” he stated blankly.

“Yes, I did.”

“I didn't say it back!”

“No, you didn't,” it hadn't been the most important matter at the time, really. “You don't have to say it. It's perfectly okay if you don't feel the s- Mmph!”

Remus smashed their lips together, holding the sides of Logan's face (disrupting his glasses in the process) and pulling him forward harshly.

Logan, for less than a second, was floored. And then Remus tilted his head to deepen the already heated kiss, and the situation properly clicked. Logan reciprocated, slightly uncertain in his movements, wrapping his arms around the other’s waist.

Remus smiled against him. He nipped at Logan's lower lip with sharpened teeth, eliciting a very embarrassing yelp. Logic let his lips part in response as his thoughts grew fuzzier by the second.

The (somewhat clumsy) open-mouthed kiss lasted right until they absolutely had to break, separating for air. Neither moved very far, letting their foreheads rest against each other and all but panting for breath.

“I love you so fuckin' much, nerd,” when Remus spoke, their lips brushed ever so slightly, “Just so you know.”

“I picked up on that, yes.”

“A little clarity never hurts, right?”

Logan chuckled at the reference to his own sentiments, but the sound was abruptly cut off when Remus kissed him properly again.

When they broke apart, he explained how 'stupid-cute' that laugh was. And Logan, only half-joking (since when did he joke at all?), said that he’d have to do it more often.

Banter came easily to them, despite the raw undercurrent that still laced their conversation. Although, neither of them had ever found it difficult to talk; talk about the first thing that came to mind and the last thing that would come to anyone’s mind, talk about exceedingly simple nonsense and topics so intricate that they wound up sounding like nonsense, just talk.

So things would stay mostly the same. They would ramble to each other when no one else could stand to hear such disturbing things. They would sit, working side by side, running through plans and ideas and results at rapid-paced speech. They’d speak, and they would listen, when even their closest friends couldn’t manage such patience.

Only now, sometimes the rushed words might turn soft. Now, all that ranting might be more substantial than anyone would at first see. Now, they’d still listen, but leaned close together, gazes impossibly fond.

But then, on occasion, they would find that there were things far more fun than talking to do together.

@shrimp-crockpot

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virtual-crisis · 6 years

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⭐Alpha Centauri⭐

Yes, you heard right, my..... Er, 43 followers [goddamnit my follower count on my main blog is the homestuck number as of writing]. I've started up a new story here, and this one's actually original [albeit dipping into a few fandoms, but it doesn't owe its plot to them]; this one's about an awkward college student that's roommates with an.... Interesting individual, to say the least. Stay tuned if this first part is engaging to you.

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Darkness. All I saw was the black of the void. It got darker in pulses for a few moments before growing light on one side. Why? Well, probably because my head was leant on my arm. I winced once more before lifting my eyes off my forearm—I’d dozed off mid toilet break… Lovely.

I groaned, sitting up. I wanted to check the time, but my phone was in my pocket, and my pajama pants were pulled down to my ankles, so I looked out the window. Solaris was pulling its lower half out of the horizon line off to the East, which meant I’d REALLY conked out, considering it was night when I’d sat down. Oh well, at least I wouldn’t have to worry about anything else having to “exit my premises”.

I stretched my arms for a moment before grabbing a long strip of toilet paper and finishing up on the toilet. After that, I skipped over to the sink to wash my hands, then headed back into my connected bedroom.

By this point, I realized while playing narrator that I should probably tell you who the Hell I am. Oops.

So, name’s Alyssa. I’m a college student at Boston University, studying software engineering with a minor in the arts. My parents encouraged me to make good use of my scholarship by going for a PhD, so I could get a really good, high-paying job relatively early on. At twenty-six years old, I’m on my third year for that doctorate, and I’m yet to see this path make itself a mistake. No dead end career, no crippling debt, none of that.

In the meantime, I’d gotten dressed: a pale blue t-shirt, with a blue plaid skirt and black shoes. Covering my legs was my favorite garment—A set of leggings patterned like a starry sky, with various blues, purples and greens under the white dots. Aside from clothes, I held a Hispanic complexion, a fuckton of freckles, and a glossy pair of blue eyes to go with my long, black hair.

As I fumbled around to get my backpack open and my phone inside, I walked myself through the past week’s lectures, mentally. Lots of boring C++ and script writing, but one can’t make the fun stuff without the bare basics.

Thinking on basics reminded me of food, so I closed my bag and headed to my dorm room’s kitchen, where my roommate was seated at the table.

Yeah, uh, my roommate. She was… Green. Bright green and glowing. Not unlike uranium, because that was exactly what she was.

While she had a form that looked human like myself, she was anything but. She said her parents call her a “uranium atronach,” but in layman’s terms, she’s a demon. From Hell.

Yes, I’m serious.

My hand reflexively went over my mouth and nose. “Hey hey, whoa, what’d I say about going all radio in the kitchen?”

The demoness—going by “Tyler” for her human guise—tensed up, pulling on the mask of a hazmat suit she wore in her “pure” form. “Oh fuck, right, I forgot about that,” she said, voice muffled by her mask as she glanced over to me. “Morning Ally, how’d you sleep?”

“Like a damn rock. I fell asleep in the bathroom.”

“Shit, that sucks. Maybe should’ve gone earlier….”

“Oi, I can’t control my ass like that.”

Tyler snorted, before chuckling under her suit. I stared blankly for a moment, before joining her as I went to grab a container of cup ramen to heat up.

“Alyssa,” she said, “do me a favor and never think before you talk to me.”

“Whoever said I did?” I quipped. “Now come on, I got dressed already. You go change into your flesh-suit-thing so we’ll be ready for class.”

Tyler sighed, getting up. “C’moooooon, I just put my mask back on,” she groaned.

“Oh hush, I took like ten seconds to wake up and get moving. That’s like, dangerously fast for me.”

Tyler broke out laughing as she stepped past me to leave the kitchen, and I laughed with her. Once she was out, I turned to the microwave, glancing at the ramen cup. “Microwave for three minutes”. Pfft. I set it to six to be thorough—never could trust the shitty appliances in these dorms.

Soon, a caucasian human girl came into the kitchen wearing a t-shirt for some dime-a-dozen death metal band and jeans she’d cut wear into herself with a knife. Tyler’s ‘human’ form, though she didn’t do a good job of staying inconspicuous with her ‘isotope-green’ mohawk flipped over on the side of her head. Like some dumb 2070’s cyberpunk hacker or something.

I stared blankly at her. “...What’s with the hair?”

She furrowed her brows, swatting a hand in my direction. “Stoooooop asking that every time I change.” she whined in annoyance. I just snickered in response.

Once my ramen was ready, I pulled it out and seasoned it to start eating. Tyler grabbed another cup from the fridge to do the same. I went ahead and headed into the living room, sitting down and flicking through channels aimlessly on the TV. Very little of interest, even on the cartoon channels. The cartoons were just a bunch of mindless pandering to kids’ amusement at randomness, and the rest was either boring news or inane soap operas.

“I wonder if that’s what it’s like to be schizophrenic.”

I blinked, looking over at Tyler. “...What?”

“...Y’know, hearing voices in your head. Or would ADHD be more accurate? Fuck if I know.”

I looked back at the TV, then her again. “...What the fuck?”

She shrugged, sitting next to me. “What’re you even on the cable for anyway? None of these shows are good.” she said, grabbing for the remote.

I held it away from her. “Nooooo, I wanna flick through them. If I watch youtube I’ll just be stuck there for hours.” I whined.

“But youtube’s actually FUN to watch. You get to see people being idiots for others’ entertainment!” Tyler whined back, putting one hand around my shoulders and trying to grab the remote with the other.

“You get that on these stupid shows too if you think about it enough!”

“But I thought you didn’t like thinking!”

“I- agh!” I yelped as Tyler toppled both of us over, flopping on top of me. Fortunately, whoever teaches demons about imitating humans doesn’t get skeletons right, or it would’ve hurt a lot more than it did in this instance. “Ugh… Get off me, fatass…”

Tyler huffed, shifting position to lie on top of me casually and snatch the remote from my hand. “Pff, or what, you’ll thump me on the head? No.” she teased. I rolled my eyes, shifting and struggling to get my legs up under hers since I was stuck there either way.

“...Whatever. Put on one of those ghost pepper challenge tags.”

“Ew, no, that’s a minefield of people like, hiccupping in really gross ways.”

“Not if you know the right channel.”

Tyler scoffed, leaning over to grab an Xbox controller off the coffee table. She used it to turn on and navigate our shared Xbox to its Youtube app, where we spent a good hour or two watching dumb videos of dumb people doing dumb things. It was amusing for the time being.

Eventually, Tyler’s alarm went off on her phone, signaling we had to get the hell out of our dorm and off to class. Tyler was quick to turn off the TV and urge me to get up, but I’d half dozed off underneath her, and my legs had fallen asleep.

“I don’t wanna go to school…” I whined.

Tyler rolled her eyes. “Hey dumbass, you’re already IN school.”

“Well I don’t wanna already in school……”

Tyler snorted in amusement for a moment… Before grabbing me by the shoulder and pulling me off the couch. “Come on you lazy ass, time to learn how to speak robot.”

I sighed in frustration, wrestling away from her and stumbling a bit as my legs got used to having to move again. “Ugh, fine. But what if I don’t wanna-”

Tyler put a hand over my mouth. “You literally asked to learn how to talk to robots.”

I rolled my eyes, pulling away from her again and turning to saunter out the door of our room. “Whatever…”

Class was uneventful. Another lecture on the inner workings of computer programs. I’d been taught a good bit of software engineering by my mom, growing up, but even she was reading the ‘For Dummies’ book on it. Something something binary, something something programming project, something something research on the developments of programming over the decades.

I elected to spend the afternoon dicking around with some old CD-ROM games that my parents had let us get a hold of to use for school stuff. ‘Us’ as in me and my little brother, Nate.

“So how do you think they programmed the shadows to move in real time? It has to generate a new silhouette texture on the ground every time the model is hit by a new light source.”

He’s about three years younger than me, so I act as his tutor. After all, he decided to take the same major as me, albeit minoring in culinary arts.

“I’m surprised it doesn’t drop the framerate when you pass between rooms, thinking on that. The shadow textures are probably really compressed, since you don’t have to worry about all the details of the actual character model.”

You can definitely tell the food-loving part from a glance—he’s more than a little chubby, same with me—though his real passion’s making new worlds through computer programming. Me, I just love turning reality inside-out through the possibilities of game design.

“Oh yeah, we were talking polygons in class last week. Maybe we should pull up a rendering program and get a closer look at it.”

Call us nerds, but we’re the kind of people that make games for people to be nerds about, so at the end of the day it’s a compliment.

“Nahhhhh, let’s go look for a video on the topic. There’s bound to be some cool stuff talking about atoms and pixels or some shit like that.”

Nate chuckled in response to my suggestion. “Okay, okay, I’ve got lessons on matter states coming up in science anyway.”

The afternoon went by as one would expect with two cheerful, get-along-y siblings like us. Of course in this, I neglect to mention my older sister, Paula. She might not’ve been there now, but she had recently finished her studies in social sciences, supporting us from three terms ahead. Nowadays, she’d be vacationing up in Europe somewhere, but Nate and I always enjoyed when she’d visit, and it’s better I mention her now than have it come as a surprise later.

Before long, we were listening to dubstep and collaborating to make a mock-up of a platformer game. It was a moth and beetle skittering and flying through the rafters of a rave venue. Lots of lights, lots of colors, and nice, complex character models to play with. Nate kept saying to make it run well in time with the music we listened to, but I complained that we’d need music of our own. He retorted that we weren’t really gonna publish it for money anyway. I said, “Fair point,” and we put in some of our favorite tunes and built levels around them. Man, I envied people with synesthesia- they’d have a field day fusing visuals and music for something like this.

As if I’d summoned her or something, Tyler proceeded to walk in on us. “Holy shit you guys, that’s like fifteen songs too many at once.”

“What?” I called, cupping a hand to my mouth. “I can’t hear you over the great-a-f music!”

“UGH.” Tyler grunted aloud, putting up her hands. “I’m supposed to be reading physics textbooks this afternoon!”

I immediately hit mute on Nate’s computer. He seized up reflexively, blinking several times in surprise. “Woah, what the f-” he cut himself off to shake his head.

“Alright, alright, go soak up the universe or whatever that prof’s got you doing.” I said in a slightly mocking tone.

Tyler scoffed, walking to her bedroom. “Yeah yeah, I’m soaking up a lot more than the universe, I’ll tell you that.”

I watched her disappear past the door, before looking to the clock on the computer. “Oh shit, I’ve got art class in half an hour.” I said.

Nate leaned back as he closed most of his music tabs and set the volume to low. “Time for me to go, then?”

I snorted, waving a hand. “Hey, miss Manhattan isn’t gonna possess you or anything—she would’ve done that to me long ago if she had any plans to, heh.”

He shrugged, switching back to his Notepad++ window to make notes on changes he was making to the program. “Eh, true. Maybe I can ask her for some suggestions here…”

“Ah, I wouldn’t bother her with it. She’s got a lot of nuclear shit to read about.”

“Oooh, I can go talk through atomic physics with her, then.”

I snorted again. “Hey, leave her alone, ‘kay? And don’t go eating our food either.” I said, getting up to go switch out notebooks in my room so I’d have my notes for art class—oh right, and my sketchbook. I didn’t use it much, but my professor would chew me out if I didn’t have something of the sort available.

In art class, a couple of my classmates I sat next to were muttering about how the professor looked like Bob Ross, lecturing about color theory. I was too busy blending neon rays and spotlights to bother with their gossip. While some of the others were painting dainty flowers and landscapes, I had dubstep coursing between my ears, translating to rave lighting painting colors on a white moth—a kind of bug I’d always adored—and marking charcoal over the negative space to give an especially blatant night atmosphere.

For a while, I could feel eyes over my shoulder. I glanced over, and one of the other girls was watching me put color to paper. She blinked, and waved at me. “Oh, whoops, didn’t mean to stare.”

I glanced away for a moment, then back to her. “Er, yeah, hey. What’cha want?”

She shrugged one arm. “Well, wanted to let you know there’s a game next week. Gotta practice tomorrow, and the captain’s been upset about you being late recently…”

I stared for a moment, before thumping my head on my sketchbook. Cheer practice. I knew I was forgetting something. Between all the academic stuff I was juggling, I was on the cheerleading team too, and oh god I did not enjoy the physical exertion. I’ve always been a lazy and sedentary person, but I direly craved the love and attention cheerleading could bring. Dad said it wasn’t a good idea for someone so averse to exercise as me, but mom said it could be a good way to get some activity in here and there.

“God, jeez, I forgot about it again, thanks for the heads up…”

“You really oughta get one of those calendar apps to remind yourself—all the rest of us use ‘em.”

“Yeah, but those take time to set up…”

“Well someone’s gotta take the time to remind you…”

I groaned. “Fine, fine, I’ll get to it when I’ve got a chance…” I muttered. That, of course, was a flat lie.

Both of us winced as the professor called us back to attention, specifically calling us two out for ‘gossiping’. Oops.

When I got out of class later, Tyler swung by to bring me to a restaurant for dinner. Nothing fancy, but it was a good quality pizza place, not some ‘drive-thru’ pizza hut. Tyler said she couldn’t tell a difference, but I for one actually had a stomach, rather than some boundless void concealed only by a sphere of whale blubber. Demons being ‘superior beings’. The one I lived with was a superior lack of standards for food.

“God, this pizza’s great. Imagine people COMPLAINING about this being unhealthy.”

“Right? Shit’s delicious, who cares how greasy or high calorie it is?”

I nodded to Tyler’s remark, glancing around. “Best part’s when they put pineapple on it. Real shame they don’t have that here.” I said aloud. I could practically feel people around us squirm.

“I thought you didn’t like-?”

I waved a hand at Tyler to shut her up, quietly shushing her. I motioned at another table with my eyes, where one guy had literally facepalmed Captain Picard style because of my lie about pineapple pizza. We quietly snickered with eachother.

I motioned a hand coyly at her after a minute. “So why didn’t you tell me about cheer practice tomorrow, jackass?”

Tyler rolled her eyes. “I already set my phone to ping you for class, I’m not your cheer team reminder too.”

I huffed, pouting and looking away. “Gee, I thought roommates were a thing to help eachother out.”

“You’re LAZY. El-ay-zee-why. When’s th-”

“I’m ALSO a straight-A student.”

“When you remember to DO your projects.”

“Which is always! I’m literally a professional procrastinator!”

“It’s not literally if you don’t make money from it.”

“Check the dictionary, dumbass, some idiots online got it changed to also mean figuratively.”

Tyler scoffed haughtily, rolling her eyes and going back to eating.

Fast forward a few days. I managed to catch a date with one of the jocks on the football team- him asking me out, surprisingly. I decided not to tell him I was leaning lesbian recently, ‘cause honestly, I was fine going either way. Though if it turned out well, I’d probably have to tell him… Well, nevermind.

The date was kinda boring. He wanted to hang out at a nice bar and grill, get a drink or two, a hearty course of burgers and fries. A great effort, considering the dumbasses he played alongside. I found it kind of dull though—only thing we could really connect over was football, me as a cheerleader, and him as an athlete. His main coursework was in economics, and mine was in software engineering, so neither of us could really make sense of the other’s intellectual interests in that regard.

We decided against talking through more… Recreational interests.

“Sooooo, how’d it go, succubitch?” Tyler said tauntingly when I got home. ‘Succubitch’—pretty obvious what demons like her thought of their lustful counterparts. Then again, she was a demoness of envy. And gluttony. But the latter’s obvious just at a glance—I call her ‘fatass’ for good reason.

“I told him it was a very nice time and that I enjoyed it.” I said, sticking up my nose at her.

“So you hated it.” she retorted, smirking and raising a brow.

I glared at her. “I did not! It was just… Kind of boring? He asked if we could go again some time, and I…”

“Spat in his face?”

I put up my hands. Tyler was sneering evilly. Even for her, this was excessively mean. “No! I told him to maybe look for a girl he can find more to talk about with!”

“Oooooh, he’s gonna be crying about that at the frat house~”

“Shut up!” I whined. Tyler just laughed.

#Alpha Centauri #I figure this'll seem a bit disorganized... It's kind of a chapter of 'mini-stories' cobbled together to paint the picture of Alyssa's life

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survivinglifescurveballs · 7 years

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Taekwondo from fun to fraud

We needed something for our youngest son to be a part of, something he could be proud of and learn from. We had previously tried soccer, but he had little interest in group sports. He had watched his older brother in Cub Scouts and had no desire to join. What else was there?

An idea emerged from a friend’s facebook post.

Tae Kwon Do? Maybe he would be interested in that. I clicked through to the website and read about the classes and the Grand Master. Grand Master Chong has trained Taekwondo to just about every kind of special forces America and Korea have. Xander would certainly like that as he is fascinated with the military.

Both boys decided to give the free class a try. When we walked in other parents warmly greeted us. Laurin, the black belt (2nd Dan) who owns and manages the school, was sitting at the desk. She gently told the boys to take off their shoes and head to the mat.

Grand Master Chong, already on the mat instructing, came over to meet them. He gave them a name tag to wear with their names written in Korean.

Free trial class experience

Class began with simple, clear instructions. A third of the class time was dedicated to stretching, followed by form work then other basic skill practice. Grand Master Chong was kind, patient, hands-on with each of the students. He often giggled when his students did silly things. They learned to stand at attention (Cha Rutt), to answer all instructors with respect (yes/no ma’am/sir), and the basics of how to properly move their bodies to kick and punch.

I watched the whole class noting my sons’ reactions, but it was difficult to tell how they felt with the amount of concentration they were giving their movements. At the end of class all the students encircled GM Chong. He secured all of their legs and the completed sit ups as a group. Each student bowed to each other and shook hands (Con Sa Hom Nee Dha), then the same to GM Chong.

Then one of my favorite things happened, GM Chong requires all of his students to hug and thank their parents for bringing them to class. What a wonderful lesson to teach the children. We are already huggers, but what mom turns away a sweaty hug from her growing young men? Not this mom, not ever. I don’t care how dirty they are, I will always scoop them up into my arms.

Both of them ran to me and asked if they could join. I had already decided I would sign the boys up if they wanted, so I met with Laurin again to talk about cost. It was $400 for three months of unlimited classes, two uniforms, and the registration fee. $200 for three months for each child didn’t seem too bad (or $68/month/child), especially considering there were classes six times a week. I had the option to pay each month, but the three month option gave me a price break. There were no required contracts, which I later discovered are common in most Taekwondo schools. Some contracts extended up to three years.

The first two months

GM Chong has found a magical balance of fun and discipline that keeps our boys excited and eager to return to class each day. He is encouraging, but firm. GM Chong can be found on the mat teaching every class and personally assisting each student. He laughs with them, but also commands their respect and is inflexible with the discipline required for Taekwondo.

The yellow belt test was quite formal with two other Grand Masters attending to watch the test. Check Chirdon and Craig Clinton. The boys modeled their basic motions, went through their form, and as a grand finale broke boards with their hands. They were proud of themselves and we were proud they had worked so hard to learn these new skills.

After two months our boys had progressed from white belt to yellow belt and are now orange belts. Their level of flexibility has drastically improved as well as their balance. While snapping some photos of them in class I was stunned by how high their kicks had become in such a short time. They had also learned to count to ten in Korean just from hearing GM Chong during stretching exercises.

My son with ADHD does great some days and others are rough, but GM Chong really pushes him to do his best. For that I am grateful. Most people with ADHD require more accountability, balanced with equal parts positive encouragement.

Month Three

Laurin and GM Chong took a week off to visit family. When they returned they announced a summer camp.

Our boys were very excited and asked immediately to be a part of the camp. After talking it over with my husband, we obliged.

One Saturday afternoon my oldest arrived in his soccer uniform coming straight from his game and GM Chong told us of how he was once on the soccer team in Korea. He told us of how competitive the players are and the difficulties he faced. With this opening I began to ask him about his life in Korea and how he ended up in the US. He spoke for a long time about the teams he had trained, athletes he had sent to the Olympics, and the Taekwondo schools he ran in Arizona for many years.

It was when I asked about how he ended up in Ohio that he became reluctant to talk. He said he had gone home to Korea giving up on Taekwondo after a bad experience with his former partner.

Chong had come to the US to visit Chuck Chirdon, a friend, who encouraged him to look for a new school location and even helped him get the building remodeled once he found a space in Pickerington.

The conversation left me with an uneasy feeling in my gut. I could tell something wasn’t right with the situation so I decided to background check GM Chong. Afterall, this man was going to be alone with my children during the day all summer long. Using Been Verified I learned that he had a criminal charge in Arizona, but no other information was given in the report. I had to send a request to the Snowflake Court of Navajo County.

While waiting for the requested public records to arrive I began to investigate both GM Chong and Laurin online. GM Chong had two schools in Arizona, LC Martial Arts, where he partnered with Master Ly Ngo. Both LC schools now show as closed. Yelp reviews for the schools were not favorable.

Hmm, that didn’t sound good. I shared the information with my husband and asked him if he thought I was just being paranoid, as sometimes I worry about little things blowing them out of proportion. Together we agreed that GM Chong had been wonderful to our boys and we were really happy with their progress so we decided to keep going to Taekwondo, not to mention we had already paid for the first three months of class plus $1600 for the summer camp.

Summer Camp

Day 1

GM Chong and Laurin ran the show and the kids had a blast. They came home and told me it was one of the best days of their lives.

Day 2

GM Chong and Laurin were not there. They had two of their black belt students runt he camp.

Day 3

GM Chong and Laurin were not there so we asked where they were. We were told GM had doctors appointments all week, but would be back Monday.

Day 5

The exterior school sign was taken down during the day. The company told the black belts it was a code violation. When the students called GM Chong he promised to call later that night with an explanation. After arriving to pick up my boys from class I realized GM Chong’s certificate was missing from the wall.

All of this was unsettling and I want to ask some others what was going on so I reached out to another adult student. This student had been running the classes while Laurin visited her father in Puerto Rico and GM Chong was at doctor appointments. Together we discovered all kinds of things that were not adding up. He said he would speak to GM Chong that night and let me know what was going on.

In the pit of my stomach I already knew what was going on, we were being taken for a ride. I again went to researching and then I found a very damning piece of evidence on youtube compiled by his former students at LC https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9bT9oLzX1E8. LC’s World Taekwondo had been the second time GM Chong had run off with people’s money and he was now doing it a third time with Lion’s Martial Arts. Wow!

I shared the video with the student who was supposed to speak with GM Chong. He was shocked and said he had spoken to GM Chong last night. Laurin and Chong promised to send an email out to all the students today and “make things right”.

Epilogue to my tale of sadness

Once I found the video it didn’t matter what Chong and Laurin had to say there was no way I was going back to that school or trusting them with any more money. I had paid the summer camp fee with a credit card and am disputing the charge for services never rendered. It could up to two months before a final decision is made by the credit card company.

The worst part of all of it, this was my children’s first lesson in scams. Someone they trusted, respected, and had learned from had cheated them.

We did receive the three months of instruction that was paid in full. The boys did gain flexibility, learn to count in Korean, and learn many techniques. They also achieved two belt ranks, although I have no idea if another school will accept them as such, if we decide to try Taekwondo again.

What we did lose was trust in our fellow man, respect for Laurin and Master Chong, $1600, and our summer childcare arrangements with no advance warning.

I believe Churck Chirdon is an honest man with a kind nature who was fooled by Chong and Laurin as were the rest of the Lion’s Martial Arts students.

It’s important to note that most Taekwondo schools are bursting with integrity. Many of other schools have contacted us offering their condolences, inviting us to give them a try for free or reduced tuition. Here is a great checklist for finding an ideal school. Wiki also has a very complete checklist. You can also verify your Master’s belt level here.

A complete compilation of evidence against Lion’s Martial Arts can be found here.

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