#this feels incredible. i have the vaguest of vague ideas on literally just anything more than a vague premise
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what if i put my dragon OCs into the same continuity. what if it forced me to make up worldbuilding for how the vague scraps of their stories would fit in the same world. what if.
#this feels incredible. i have the vaguest of vague ideas on literally just anything more than a vague premise#anyway yeah was doodling size comparisons and my brain was like. what if#i have a mech/robot dragon too but that one probably won't fit in the same continuity#the vibes are different#blaidd's OCs
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Perceptive Blindness
Prompt: hi can i have some hurt/comfort lamp where virgil gets the others together and pines maybe? im feeling down and need to see virgil pining. ps i love all your fics (especially Is It Enough?)
Thanks to the nonny for this prompt! I hope it's what you wanted, I had fin with it. I love writing in Virgil's voice so much because I don't have to try and rein in my natural snark as much.
Read on Ao3
Pairings: LAMP babeyy
Warnings: our buddy V has a panic attack but it’s not super explicit
Word Count: 4814
It should’ve been easy, right? To see it coming?
Listen, Virgil’s job is to be observant, to pay attention to shit. Just because he’s notoriously, um, overreactive doesn’t mean he’s bad at paying attention. He sees a whole lot of shit and hey if you saw as much shit as Virgil did you’d be freaking out too, yeah? Okay, great, got that sorted.
So. Here’s the thing.
When Roman starts sitting a little closer to Patton that he used to on the couch or offering to help him cook and clean when they all know Roman would rather do anything else, Virgil notices. When Roman starts getting up earlier and earlier so he can beat Patton down to the kitchen so they can do it together, Virgil notices. (It’s not like he sleeps, he notices this shit when there’s not supposed to be people up and at ‘em for another half-hour.)
So yeah, maybe he sinks into Princey’s room one day and smirks when Roman startles terribly coming out of the bathroom.
“Hey there, Princey.”
“Don’t—goodness, Stormcloud,” Roman huffs, getting his balance back, “don’t do that. Haven’t you ever heard of knocking?”
“You were in the bathroom, you wouldn’t have answered.”
“How did you know I was—you know what, it doesn’t matter.” Roman shakes his head. “What do you want?”
“What, I can’t just pop my head in and say hi?”
“I’ve never in my life heard you say ‘pop my head in’ and I never want to hear it again.”
“That’s where you draw the line?”
“Everyone has a line, Dark and Stormy.”
Virgil shrugs, smiling when Roman glares at him for curling up on his bed. Which, alright fair.
“So.”
“You’ve yet to explain why you’re in my room,” Roman reminds, sounding less upset than confused.
“Just thought I’d say hi.”
“Yes, sure, that’s it.”
“What, you don’t believe me?” Roman just stares at him. “Okay, okay, I...may have an ulterior motive.”
“Aha!” Roman points at him victoriously. “I knew it! Now tell me, you fiend.”
It’s only the slight uptick of Roman’s mouth that lets him know that’s probably supposed to be a term of endearment.
“Oh, nothing much,” Virgil sighs, “just wondering about your sleeping habits.”
“Considering you’re the only one in the Mindscape who gets less sleep than me, you’re in no position to—“
“I’m not here to yell at you, Roman,” Virgil says quickly, relaxing a bit when Roman’s shoulders slump, “I just…you know, I hear you when you get up.”
“That’s…kind of creepy.”
“It’s my thing, Roman,” he sighs, “I pay attention to shit and it’s not like I’m asleep.”
“I know, I know, I didn’t mean it like that.” Roman sighs, scrubbing a hand over his face. “Are you asking why I’ve been getting up earlier?”
“Yup.”
“It’s nothing bad, Virgil.”
“Never said it was.”
Roman sighs again, more dramatically this time, flouncing over to his desk, definitely not pouting. “Virgil…”
“What? If it’s not bad, why don’t you wanna tell me?” Virgil’s eyes widen. “Ooh, is it a secret? Are you keeping secrets, Roman?”
“Shut up!”
“No!” Virgil lobs a pillow at him. “Tell me!”
He ducks quickly when another one flies back at him.
“Hey!”
“You threw it first!”
“Yeah, and!”
“Gah!” Roman throws himself up out of his chair, trying to hide how red his face is. It’s not working. “What do you want?”
“I told you, Princey,” Virgil grins, “I want to know why you’re getting up earlier and why you don’t want to tell me.”
“Because I want to!”
“And why do you want to?”
“No,” Roman insists, pointing his finger at Virgil, “I told you, that’s what you wanted.”
“Giving me the vaguest answer that doesn’t actually answer the question is not an answer.”
Roman stares at him for a second. “We’ve said the word ‘answer’ too many times. It’s not a word anymore.”
“Pity.” Virgil shrugs. “Guess you’re gonna have to just tell me.”
“That’s not—how does—“ Roman pinches the bridge of his nose. “That is not how this words. Works.”
Virgil snickers.
“Shut up.”
“You’re so flustered, Princey. I haven’t seen you like this in ages.”
“Leave me alone, Virgil.”
The note of genuine irritation in Roman’s voice is enough to give Virgil pause. He slides off the bed and walks over to Roman, shoving his hands in his pockets and rocking back and forth on his heels.
“You mean that, Roman?”
Roman looks at him from between his fingers, then looks away. “…no.”
“Okay.” He bumps Roman with his elbow. “Sit down, Princey.”
He winces when Roman lets his knees buckle and just collapses onto the floor.
“I didn’t—okay fine.” Listen, Virgil has no respect for ‘normal’ sitting places at the best of times. He sits next to Roman and watches the prince worry at the cuffs of his sleeves. “Roman, you gotta��you’re gonna fuck them up.”
“It’s fine,” Roman mutters absentmindedly, “I’ve done this before.”
“…not exactly reassuring me here, dude.”
“No, not—not this, I just meant the—my sleeves, they’re…they’re not…it’s fine.”
Virgil nods, frowning as Roman starts to fidget a little more.
“…Princey—“
“It’s Patton,” Roman blurts, his face flushing even brighter, “I—that’s why I’m waking up earlier.”
Something in Virgil’s chest twists.
“I figured,” he says instead, bumping Roman’s shoulder again, “you, uh, you had that look about you.”
“What look?”
Virgil tilts his head a bit. “You…you do know what you look like when you’re in love, don’t you Princey?”
If Roman’s eyes could go wider than when Virgil said he knew what was going on, well, they do.
“I—I’m—wait, what?”
“You’re romance, aren’t you?” The corner of Virgil’s mouth tugs upward. “Passion, desire, romance, all of that, right?”
“I am, but—“
“You—alright, I gotta figure out a way to say this without being sappy as shit,” Virgil grumbles, looking away for a moment. “Okay, uh—you’re—there’s no way to say this and not sound absolutely ridiculous, but um…your color’s red, right?”
Roman nods, still staring at him.
“You…your eyes turn red, Roman,” Virgil mumbles, “like…you know how cartoon people get like…hearts in their eyes?”
“I get literal heart-eyes?”
“Kind of?” Virgil waves his hand. “You just—you’re—your irises go red and like…sparkly.”
“They do?”
“Have you seriously never noticed?”
“No!” Roman looks like someone just told him Thomas got another Disney job or something. “I—oh my goodness, this is incredible! How can I see this!”
“Here’s a tip,” Virgil snickers as Roman’s cheeks start to color again, “next time you’re in the kitchen with Patton or something, look at yourself in the mirror or something reflective right after you look at him.”
“O-okay,” Roman mumbles, “okay, okay, I can do this, I can do this, I can do this—“
“Hey—“ Virgil prods him— “you’re supposed to be downstairs in ten minutes anyway, just go now.”
“Right!”
“And…he’s gone,” Virgil sighs, getting up and sinking back to his own room. He pulls on his headphones and turns up the music.
Had Roman…really never noticed his eyes did that? The dude’s had eyes for—well, as long as you have eyes for. Has he never looked at himself when he’s working before? Jeez, and here Virgil thought Roman was looking in a mirror every two seconds.
Well, it wouldn’t be the first time he’s noticed something that none of the others did. But still, what with how…obvious Roman can be sometimes, had the others really never noticed this either?
As it turns out, the answer is yes, but also no.
They’re in the living room a few days later and Roman’s bouncing off the walls, as per usual, as Logan looks up every so often from his book, and Patton giggles. Virgil is decidedly not paying attention because of course he isn’t, curled up on the floor out of the way of Roman’s bouncing.
“Watch where you’re going,” Logan scolds when Roman almost brains himself on the banister, “you’ll hurt yourself.”
“Pfft,” Roman blusters, “I haven’t paid attention to a single thing in my entire life and I’ll be damned if I start now.”
Virgil snorts. Patton makes a vague noise of concern. Logan just sighs.
“Roman, you are clearly intelligent enough to demonstrate that you do pay attention to things.”
“I dunno,” Virgil says, “he didn’t notice his heart-eyes when he’s in love until I told him about them.”
Roman sticks his tongue out. Virgil sticks his out back. Then they notice that Logan and Patton are quiet.
“Guys?”
“Roman has what?” Logan closes his book. “I…I was also not aware of this.”
“Hah!” Roman points at Virgil. “See, it’s not just me!”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever.”
“Patton? Did you also know this?”
“Y-yeah,” Patton manages, his voice strangely quiet, “I mean, I knew about Roman’s eyes, but…doesn’t he have that all the time? Not just when he’s in love?”
Oh.
Oh, shit.
Roman freezes, his mouth opening and closing without making sounds. Logan looks quizzically back and forth between the two of them until Virgil clambers to his feet and knocks his elbow.
“C’mon, L, let’s go somewhere else.”
“Why?”
“You’ll see.”
Sure enough, after a few minutes of them walking away to give Roman and Patton some privacy, Logan makes a small ‘ah’ sound.
“Yeah,” Virgil sighs, “took them long enough.”
“I am pleased to say that this I did notice.”
“Right?”
“I mean it’s not like it isn’t obvious.”
“That’s what I said.”
“Honestly, did they believe we couldn’t see?”
“I don’t think they knew until like, ten seconds ago.”
“They truly are a bit oblivious, aren’t they?”
“Oh, hell yeah.”
Hey, you know how sickeningly adorable Patton and Roman are normally? You know how much more sickeningly adorable they got after this happened?
Great.
Now double that.
Now you have like, some idea of what Virgil’s going through.
Dates. Kisses. Flowers. Baking together. Sitting on top of each other. Whispers in the corner. Curled around a phone so tight they can’t tell whose legs are whose.
All.
The.
Time.
Is Virgil happy for them? Yes. Absolutely. Great for them. Is he also about to down a bottle of soy sauce to even out the amount of pure sugar he’s being forced to consume? Pass that salt factory over here, please, pronto. That’s probably why the feeling that twisted in his chest hasn’t gone away any.
“Seriously,” Virgil huffs to Logan after the two of them vanish from the kitchen, “Thomas is gonna have so many cavities.”
“That’s not how it works, Virgil.”
“But it fucking could be.”
“I must say I think this has had a…positive impact on Thomas,” Logan says instead, “that his heart and his ego are so…compatible.”
Virgil snorts. “That’s one way to put it.”
“I suppose it makes sense.”
“Yeah, yeah, it makes sense. Right brain boys, we get it. Doesn’t mean I don’t feel like I’m drowning in a gallon of vanilla syrup every time I walk into a fucking room.”
“Alright, enough,” Logan says, giving Virgil a reprimanding look that’s just this side of too smiley to be effective, “I need more coffee.”
“Ooh, get me some too?”
“I have a better idea: why don’t you come with me?”
Virgil groans. “But that requires moving. And effort.”
“You have legs.”
“But—“ Virgil wriggles down into the nice little divot in the couch cushions— “comfy.”
Logan sighs, shaking his head in what might be fond exasperation. “Very well. Hold this.”
“Okay,” Virgil mutters, taking Logan’s empty coffee mug, “what are you—hey!”
Logan, because apparently none of them have noticed that he can apparently do this, simply tucks Virgil under his arm like a sack of potatoes, conveniently ignoring the fact that Virgil is, you know, a fucking heavy-ass person, and walks off toward the kitchen like this is absolutely fucking normal.
“Do I even weigh anything to you?”
“Your weight is not insubstantial.”
Well, judging by the way Logan’s just walking, like a normal person, uh, it doesn’t seem like it.
“How—since when—what?”
“Articulate as always, Virgil,” Logan remarks, stride never faltering, “I do seek to maintain some level of physical fitness.”
“Some level of—Logan, you’re carrying me like it’s nothing!”
Logan glances down and raises an eyebrow. “Is there a problem?”
Nope. Absolutely not. Not from this angle. Holy shit.
“No,” Virgil squeaks, “no, nope. I’m good. No problems.”
Logan hums and looks away, easily setting Virgil back on his feet once they get to the kitchen.
Yeah, yeah. Everything’s fine right now. Everything’s so fine. Everything’s so fine and good right now in the way that it’s happening. It’s never not been fine. Virgil’s never been more fine in his fucking life.
Holy fuck.
Okay, so Virgil was not observant enough to pick that up the first time around—get it? No? Fuck you, that was funny—but he does start noticing it more often. How Logan can just sigh and pick up the couch to grab his pencil, or how he never balks at having to put away the really heavy dishes that Patton struggles with. It’s—okay. Yep, he can deal with this. Totally.
Virgil just sees a lot, okay?
Which means that he can see how Roman and Patton react when they first realize how strong Logan is.
Patton’s looking for something in the top of the cupboard, straining on his tiptoes. He sighs and starts to try and climb the counter.
“Patton!” Logan rushes into the kitchen past Virgil who sits back to watch the show. “Don’t do that, you know how dangerous it is.”
“I know, I know, but I can’t find the brown sugar, I think I pushed it back too far!”
“Just get the step stool, you know where it is.”
“But it takes so long to reorganize the closet to get it out,” Patton protests, “and I know where it is, it won’t take long.”
“We do need to fix that, don’t we?” Logan sighs. “Alright. You say you know where it is?”
“Yes! I can see it, I just can’t reach it.”
“Alright. Ready?”
“Ready for—oof!”
Patton squeals when Logan just…picks him up and holds him by the cupboard, clutching Logan’s arms like he’s going to fall.
“L-Logan!”
“Can you reach it?”
“Y-yeah, I can probably—oh my goodness, Lo, you’re strong!”
“I’m not going to drop you, Patton, just grab the sugar.”
“Okay, okay, I, um…” Patton fidgets, still clutching Logan’s hands. “Gosh!”
“Patton? The sugar?”
“R-right!” Patton pulls the bag of sugar out of the cupboard as Logan lowers him gently to the ground. “Wow, thanks, Logan!”
“Of course. Though we really must get the closet reorganized, the step stool does not good if we can’t easily access it…”
Virgil snickers as Logan goes off about the closet. He knows damn well Patton is not paying any attention to what he’s saying. He catches Virgil’s eyes and just mouths ‘wow!’
Virgil responds with a shrug of ‘what can you do?’
“Virgil?”
“What’s up, L?” He cranes his neck back to peer up at Logan.
“Patton has requested that we all come to stay in the kitchen,” Logan says, offering a hand to pull Virgil to his feet. Virgil briefly entertains the idea of making Logan pick him up again when he decides against it.
“Okay…?”
“Do you happen to know where Roman is,” Logan asks as he pulls Virgil up, “or no?”
“I think he’s in the Imagination?”
Logan rolls his eyes. “Then you may as well come with me. We’ll have a better chance of finding him.”
Virgil tips Patton a lazy two-fingered salute as they make their way up the stairs. Sure enough, the bright red door to the Imagination is ajar, and as Logan steps through, Virgil spots a castle, a briar garden, and many many cloud fortresses above.
“Well,” Logan huffs as Virgil closes the door, “he’s not running out of energy any time soon.”
“Good.”
“Quite.” Logan glances around. “Well, we’d better start looking.”
Virgil’s about to agree when he hears something whistling above him. He looks up and squints.
He takes two steps to the left.
“Virgil?” Logan turns around. “What’re you doing?”
In response, Virgil just points up.
Logan follows his finger, his expression changing from one of confusion to that familiar fond exasperation again. Virgil expects him to glance around for something soft, or squishy, or at the very least move out of the way.
Instead, Logan simply sighs, takes two steps closer, and holds out his arms…
…and catches Roman effortlessly in a princess carry.
“Hello, Roman,” Logan says like he didn’t just fucking do that, “Patton wants everyone downstairs.”
“I don’t think Roman’s got speech right now, L,” Virgil snickers.
Indeed, Roman—which, hang on, let’s preface this by saying this is a reasonable reaction, okay? Logan just fucking caught him after falling from god knows how high like he weighs less than a fucking pillow, this is not something that just happens—is staring open-mouthed at Logan, panting heavily, frozen in Logan’s arms. Logan tilts his head.
“Roman? Are you okay?”
Virgil snorts when Roman suddenly flails and tries to struggle out of Logan’s arms.
“Roman,” Logan says sternly and holy fuck, “if you want me to put you down I will, but if you do that you’re going to hurt yourself.”
“Yep,” Roman squeaks, “you can—you can put me down, I can walk, you can put me down.”
“There we go.” Logan puts him down only for Roman to quickly brush himself off and dart toward the door. “Where are you going?”
“Patton! Downstairs! Forgot! Bye!”
“Well, he seems to be in a hurry,” Logan sighs, adjusting his glasses, only to frown at Virgil when Virgil just bursts out laughing. “What?”
“No, no, you gotta—holy shit!” Virgil doubles over, still cackling. “Oh my god, his face.”
“I don’t understand what’s so funny,” Logan says a moment later when Virgil’s wiping tears from his eyes, “did I do something wrong?”
The concerned question sobers Virgil, at least enough to stop dying. “No, no, L, you’re fine. Roman’s just…having a moment.”
“Because he forgot about Patton’s request,” Logan nods, “and does not wish to offend him.”
“…yeah, that’s it.”
“Well,” Logan says, dusting himself off, “let’s not be late too, hmm?”
“Sure, L.”
Logan might not know why Roman and Patton are muttering furiously to each other and spring apart the second they appear around the end of the stairs, but Virgil does. He just chuckles and winks and settles in to watch a dinner of the three of them being absolutely idiots.
It’s fine.
It’s so fine.
It’s probably because he was laughing so hard that his chest still hurts.
This lasts for like a week, and Virgil’s fucking face hurts from laughing at their fucking faces and trying to hide how hard he’s fucking laughing. And yeah okay Virgil’s in no position to judge, he’s got no idea how ridiculous he looked when he got jump scared by Logan’s freaky strength.
And it’s just not fucking fair because if it was Roman, they’d all expect it. He’d be sweeping them off their feet every two seconds and they’d be used to it by now. If it were Patton, he’d just pick them up and hug them and be the best dad ever and that would be great. But no, it’s Logan.
Logan who’s…Logan. Who can calm them all down better than anyone else but also has that sharp-as-hell tongue and quick wit that runs circles around them. Fuck. He’s just—gah.
Okay, at least Virgil’s not alone here. He’s seen Patton fumble through his words around a surprisingly patient Logan for ages now, and watched Roman stand way too close to Logan too. And yeah, okay, he’s seen the way Logan looks at them too.
So much so that he bites the bullet one day and sighs, tugging Logan out of the living room and to his room.
“Virgil? What’s going on?”
“What’s going on,” Virgil sighs, “is that if I have to look at you pining over them for one more second I am going to scream.”
Logan, to his credit, doesn’t try and deny it. Instead, he simply adjusts his tie and glasses, studiously avoiding Virgil’s gaze. “I suppose it really is that obvious.”
“To me, yeah, to those two, not so much.”
“I will get over this, I’m working on it.”
“God, no, L, that’s not what I—“ Virgil pinches the bridge of his nose. “Just talk to them, okay?”
“Are you certain? But you’d be…okay with this?”
Virgil levels a stare at him. “Dude, have you not seen how they look at you?”
“…no?”
“What is it like for you guys? It must be so boring.”
“I can assure you,” Logan says wryly, “I can see perfectly well.”
“Sure, Specs.”
“Alright, that’s enough.”
“Yeah, uh-huh. Sure.”
“Virgil!”
“No, no, I’m just saying it’s interesting that—“
“That’s enough.”
Virgil gulps. “Mhmm. Okay. Yep. Got it.”
He wisely does not go into the living room for the rest of the day.
There’s a lot Virgil sees. He sees the way Logan makes two extra mugs of coffee, sits just so on the couch, touches the small of Roman’s back or the crook of Patton’s shoulder. He sees the way Roman smiles when he looks at Patton the way he doesn’t smile any other time, wraps his arms tightly around Logan’s waist and hooks his chin over his shoulder, keeps his door cracked a little more than usual. He sees the way Patton fusses over the cookies, making sure they’ve always got Roman’s chips and Logan’s pretzels stocked, walks in the middle of the two of them with their hands swinging.
He sees a lot.
And, uh…he realizes something.
Remember that, uh, funny feeling in his chest that he totally thought was from somewhere else?
Listen, just because he sees a lot of stuff doesn’t mean he’s the best at recognizing it.
So yeah. He’s, uh…
You know.
Don’t make him say it.
As it turns out, that can make you blind to certain things. When he’s hyper-focusing on the things he knows he’s going to see, he doesn’t really have the space to realize there’s a whole host of things he doesn’t see.
He doesn’t see the way Patton’s smile drops when Virgil declines his invitation to movie night, saying he doesn’t wanna crash or invade. He doesn’t notice the way Roman makes a point to ask permission to hug Virgil too, cradling him with a tenderness he doesn’t notice that he’s only seen for the others. He doesn’t realize how much Logan’s behavior toward him is how Logan treats Roman and Patton now.
He doesn’t notice much past the ache in his chest.
Then he has a panic attack on their date night and the pain sharpens to an unbearable whine.
They’re not coming. They’re not coming. There’s no one here to help him, he’s alone, he’s always going to be alone, in the dark, in the shadows, away from the light. They’re not worrying about him, why would they? They’ve got each other, they don’t need him, they’ve never needed him, not like he needs them, he’s—he’s all alone, he doesn’t have anyone, no one wants him, he’s going to die like this. He’s alone. It’s cold. The cold is painful. His chest burns from how cold it is. He can’t breathe, it’s so cold.
“Virgil?”
No one is here, no one is coming.
“Roman, can you—?”
Something bangs in the distance.
“Virgil!”
Strong arms wrap around him and pull him into something warm. More strong arms cover his hands and gently pry them away from his face. Something soft rubs his face and strokes over his back.
“I need you to breathe with me, kiddo, come on…”
“We’re right here, Stormcloud, you just calm down now.”
“It’s okay, Virgil, everything is okay.”
They’re…here?
No, no, no, they’re not supposed to be here, it’s their date night, they—oh, god they’re missing their date night for him and he’s ruining it and they’re going to hate him now and—and—
“Shh, shh,” comes Logan’s voice from somewhere above him, “hush now, Virgil, it’s alright. We’ve got you.”
“You’re safe, sweetheart,” Patton coos, “I promise. You just sit with Logan for a minute, okay?”
“I’m—I’m so—sor—sorr—“
“None of that, shadowling,” Roman murmurs, brushing—wait, what?—brushing his lips over the back of Virgil’s shaking hand, “it’s not your fault.”
The ache in Virgil’s chest expands and collapses in on itself again.
Logan makes a comforting noise, tugging Virgil gently this way and that until he’s square in Logan’s arms, his head pillowed in the crook of Logan’s neck. Roman’s hand cards through his hair. Patton taps the 4-7-8 rhythm gently on his arm.
“Virgil, honey?” Patton reaches up to dab at his damp cheek when he mumbles a full apology. “Are you okay, sweetheart?”
“Yeah,” Virgil manages, “y-you can go now, ‘m sorry.”
Roman chuckles. “If you think we’re leaving you, little demon, you’ve got another thing coming.”
“B-but you—“
“Shh, shh,” Roman says quickly when Virgil’s breathing starts to pick up again, “take it easy, V, it’s okay, we’re not in a hurry.”
“It’s your date night,” Virgil blurts, the words clumsy and too loud in his mouth, “you—you shouldn’t have to be here. W-with—“
“…with,” Patton prompts gently, “with what, kiddo?”
“…with me.”
“Oh, kiddo…”
“If you think,” Roman says quietly, “that we’d rather be anywhere else than right here, with you, at any time, you’re sorely mistaken, V.”
Wait.
What?
“B-but we’re—you’re—I’m not—“
“Not what, kiddo?”
“…yours.”
Saying it out loud punctures his chest again. Tears well up in his eyes as he buries his face shamefully in Logan’s neck.
“…oh my god,” he hears Roman say faintly, “it happened!”
“But I thought we—we were being more obvious!”
“I know! I thought we were too! But this happened! It’s just like the stories, oh my goodness—“
“Oh, kiddo…”
Virgil can’t process any of that right now, thank you very much, because he’s currently hiding in Logan’s embrace and would rather never emerge again.
If he had, well, he may have been a little more prepared for Logan to cup his face with one hand and pull back enough to look him in the eyes.
“Virgil,” Logan whispers, “we thought you already were.”
Stop.
Wait.
Pause.
Go back.
Rewind.
“What?”
“Surely you’ve noticed, kiddo, haven’t you?” Patton squeezes his arm. “We love you, Virgil.”
“B-but—you—“
“Stormcloud,” Roman whispers, brushing his lips over Virgil’s cheek, “we do, and you’re ours as much as you’d like to be.”
“I—I—Logan—“
“Patton’s right,” Logan says, still cupping Virgil’s face as he wipes away stray tears, “to be honest, I….well, I thought you and I were in a relationship long before Patton and Roman.”
“You what?”
In response, Logan leans forward and kisses Virgil’s forehead.
“You don’t think I’d do that for just anyone,” he whispers, too quiet for the others to hear, “do you?”
Hello, yes, hi, Virgil has precisely zero idea what’s going on right now, so uh, if everyone could just hold the fuck on for two seconds it would be greatly appreciated.
“Aww, Left Brain boys!”
“Shh!”
Virgil isn’t interrupting date night.
The others care about him.
The others love him.
The others want him to be a part of their family.
Logan thought they were in a relationship already.
“Shh, shh,” Logan shushes, his thumb stroking Virgil’s shaking cheek, “you don’t have to say anything right now, darling. This is a lot, I’m sure.”
“Logan’s right.” Roman ruffles Virgil’s hair. “We’ll be here for you, Stormcloud.”
“And that’s a promise.”
Yeah, Virgil’s brain is way too fried by all of this to process any of it. But he does know that Roman’s hand in his hair is warm and soft and perfect. He knows that Patton’s murmuring something quietly that’s lulling him right to sleep. He knows that Logan is still holding him tightly, his lips pressed to his forehead, whispering how much they love him.
“Go to sleep, darling,” Logan whispers, “we’ll be here when you wake up.”
“…rude?”
“You’re not being rude, kiddo, promise.”
“Close your eyes,” Roman calls softly, his fingers scratching around Virgil’s head, “and you’ll see, Stormcloud.”
As Virgil’s eyes drift closed, maybe…maybe they’re right.
Maybe it’ll be a little easier to see that way.
General Taglist:
@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes @iminyourfandom @bullet-tothefeels @full-of-roman-angst-trash @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83 @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious @firefinch-ember @fandomssaremysoul @im-an-anxious-wreck @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch @enby-ralsei @unicornssunflowersandstuff @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @private-snippers @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @elizabutgayer @i-am-overly-complicated @annytheseal @alias290 @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @such-a-dumbass
If you want to be added/taken off the taglist please let me know! ^_^
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different anon, but heck yeah u should definitely infodump about lucid dreaming!! im really interested in it
aaaaa okay !!! uh hold onto ur ears yall im abt to talk em off lmao
so !! if u didnt know, lucid dreaming is basically when you become aware that you’re dreaming while youre in a dream. once you’re aware, you can take control of the dream in literally any way u want — u can do anything, go anywhere, meet anyone, all with the knowledge that nothing can hurt u and nothing can stop u
its a fascinating concept and, the feeling when u actually become lucid for the first time? its better than anything else in the world. its the most invigorating thing u can ever feel, i think. but actually becoming lucid is, ,, , , hm. a time and a half.
putting the rest under a cut bc, hooooo boy this is gonna get long
first things first! you absolutely have to keep a dream journal. forgetting ur dreams is all well and good when ur not trying to accomplish anything in them, but if you become lucid and then wake up with only the vaguest memory of what you actually did? thats painful.
u can either go all out and get a fancy journal and write them down physically each morning, or u can do what i do and just download an app. i personally use the app Dream Catcher, which lets u tag ur dreams for easy organization. just get in the habit of writing down your dreams every morning, and if you really, really cant remember anything, just write down that you didnt dream anything that day. you’ll train your brain to remember your dreams better
secondly! reality checks! are absolutely imperative! the idea behind them is that, if you do something throughout the day that “proves” your reality, eventually you’ll start doing it in your dreams as well. for example, a common thing in my dreams is that i’ll have extra fingers, so i check my hands a lot throughout the day.
it can’t just be a casual thing, too. if all you do is glance at your hands and b like “yo looks normal, we gucci”, then you’ll do the same in your dreams even if you have Weird hands. trust me, Dream-You is an idiot, you gotta be obvious with this stuff. take a few moments, look at your hands, count out your fingers, and really think to yourself “am i dreaming?”
try to get in the habit of doing that at least 15 times a day, and eventually you’ll start doing it in your dreams too.
now, if you just stick with doing those two things — which is what i’m doing right now — your chances of becoming lucid will raise astronomically. even just those two tiny things can train your brain into realizing when the world around you is real and when it isnt. you can also attempt something really easy called a MILD — a mnemonic-induced-lucid-dream — which can help your chances even more without upping the effort
whenever you go to bed, just take a few moments — even just five minutes can help — and just. lay there. and think to urself, again and again “the next scene will be a dream” or “i will become lucid in my dreams tonight” or something similar. get ur brain really focused on lucid dreaming right before you fall asleep and chances are, those Vibes will bleed over into ur dreams and you’ll become lucid
practice those three things consistently, every day, and pretty soon you’ll start becoming lucid. it takes time, though! dont be discouraged if you end up not becoming lucid for the first few weeks, or even months. sometimes your brain just needs a bit of extra training
that’s what ive been doing for the past year or so — bc damn do i Not have the energy to actually put in too much effort — but!!! there are other techniques!!
my personal favorite is the WBTB, or wake-back-to-bed method. with this technique, you set your alarm for roughly 5-6 hours after you go to sleep so you’ll wake up inside of one of your REM cycles, specifically one where your dreams will be the most vivid. dont do anything, just roll over and go right back to sleep.
you can even use a MILD along with this, repeat whatever mantra u usually use as you fall back asleep. you should start to see hypnagogic imagery — blobs of color and vague shapes floating before your eyes. just observe them. at one point, they’ll start forming more familiar shapes, and places, and maybe even people — and there should be a moment, a snap, where you go from observing these images to actually being in the scene. you literally build the dream around yourself, its magical
i have read that WBTB can cause sleep paralysis, but i’ve never personally experienced any problems with it, aside from the fact that im always tired the next day.
another thing that could severely increase your chances of being lucid but also involves Effort — meditation. specifically mindfulness meditation. the act of bringing full awareness to your Existence, honing in on just Your body, Your mind, Your breath, will make you a more aware, mindful person, which in turn makes you more perceptive of dream signs. also, the ability to clear your mind and center yourself with a moment’s notice really comes in handy when the dream becomes destabilized and you have to take control
if ur an adhd lad like me — or neurodivergent in any way, really — the idea of meditation can be,,,, terrifying. honestly, i havent meditated in like six months now, because it really wasnt?? doing anything for me?? mostly because im absolutely incapable of sitting still for that long without Something to stimulate me
so! loophole! guided meditations. having someone else guide you through the process can make it a bit easier to focus. just find one that works for u on youtube. there are even guided meditations made specifically to prime ur brain for lucid dreaming!
so thats how you get lucid. now for when youre lucid
at first, lucid dreaming is going to be extremely hard. dreams fall apart very easily — if you get too overexcited or if a dream-character looks at you the wrong way or if you cant seem to do what you want to do, your lucidity can fade and you’ll either go back to being your normal dream self or you’ll wake up. dreams are volatile and hard to control, and even harder to master
thats where meditation comes in handy. youll have a much easier time controlling your dreams if you can look at the world around you, take a breath, center yourself, and know that you can control it. that being said, you can absolutely learn to take control without ever having meditated a day in your life. its all about your mindset!
you have to go into it with confidence. the key to controlling your dreams is knowing that they’re your dreams. you cant forget that you’re in control. thats why i feel like learning to lucid dream doubles as a lesson in self-confidence — you have to learn to trust yourself, trust that you can handle any scenario thrown at you and come out on top.
if you can achieve this mindset, you can literally do anything. ive had maybe 50 lucid dreams since i started learning about them — which… is honestly a really low amount, but. i havent really had the time/energy to really throw myself into it as much as i want to. but just in those dreams, ive flown, ive shapeshifted, ive met my sides, ive teleported to vast, gorgeous lands and seen some of the most beautiful things ive ever seen. anything is possible in a lucid dream; thats why its so worth it to put in the effort
but when youre first starting out, itll be extremely hard to maintain that mindset. like i said, Dream-you is dumb as shit — you’ll forget youre dreaming, you’ll be unable to control anything, you’ll wake up before you manage to accomplish anything. more often than not, the dream will destabilize, which is Not Fun
if the dream starts to destabilize — basically, if things start going fuzzy or vague, if you suddenly cant see, if you can feel ur body in bed, basically anything that points towards you waking up — there are ways to fix it. literally just spinning around helps for some reason? spin around, fall down, run ur hands along anything u can find and feel the texture, or just demand that the dream stabilize itself. most of the time, thatll work
and if it doesnt, dont be discouraged. theres always another night to dream
so basically: start a dream journal, do reality checks, mmmmaybe meditate if youre up for it, and your dreams will become like. at least 10x more interesting. trust me, try flying: its literally the best feeling in the entire world
its just !!! such a huge, incredible thing, and its so fascinating to learn about too. all the different ways you can train your brain, all the different things you can do, all the studies done on the subject. i suggest reading about Steven LaBerge or keith hearne. hearne led the study that proved lucid dreaming existed in the first place! he got a lucid dreamer to signal to him that he was conscious while asleep using REM (rapid-eye movement), because lucid dreaming happens during the REM state. also, robert waggoner’s book Gateway to the Inner Self is really fascinating too!
hm wow i really went ham here lmao
thanku for giving me a chance to infodump im very happy rn
#me: /spends a full half-hour infodumping abt something most people havent even heard of/#now if only i could remember this much when it comes to schoolwork lmaooooo#ty for the Infodump Permission im !! vibin rn#lowkey highkey this makes me wanna get back into it. . . might do a wbtb tonight...#personal#logan talks#lucid dreaming#Anonymous
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Fanfic Author Meme
Tagged by @diligent-thunder and @rockmarina =)
Okay, so I’m me, and I talked way too much, so I’m putting this under a cut to save your dashes. You’re welcome 😘
Please do not reblog this post.
Author Name:
Fleetofshippyships + Knowyourincantations + Legendaryroar
Fandoms You Write For:
(in order of decreasing # of fics) Harry Potter, Voltron, Merlin, Yuri on Ice, Star Trek, Star Wars and then a few one-offs that aren’t really worth mentioning.
Where You Post:
AO3 primarily, Tumblr, trying to post more on Pillowfort, I also post on a couple of sites for knowyourincantations
Most Popular One-Shot:
Fleetofshippyships: Potter’s Insatiable Cock (Drarry, Explicit (duh XD), 20k (viewable only for logged-in AO3 users)).
Knowyourincantations: A Decent Start to Things (Pansmione, Teen, 7k)
Legendaryroar: Finding Time for Rest (Sheith (Voltron), Teen, 3k)
Most Popular Multi-Chapter Story:
RestraintNone of my old multi-chapter fics are available to read at this time and I don’t really write multi-chapter fics anymore.
If oneshot/drabble collections or two-shots count, then:
Fleetofshippyships: Vanilla and Sweet Spices (Drarry, Explicit, 2 chapters, 20k)
and this really doesn’t count, but technically it has multiple ‘chapters’ soooooooooo
Legendaryroar: Kinktober 2018 (Multiple ships (Voltron), Explicit (duh), 31 ‘chapters’, 26k)
Favourite Story You Wrote:
I don’t think I ever have a static favourite, I’ve just written too many things, I too quickly move on to the next (and frequently forget some of my own fics exist XD), but recently I re-read In Pursuit of Red Wine (Dreville, Teen, 29k) and really enjoyed that again, and I am really attached to it cos it was my first longish rarepair fic, kind of proving to myself that I can write longer rarepair stuff.
I also recently re-read Unburdened (Merthur (BBC Merlin), Explicit, 2k) and really enjoyed that too, had a total disconnect from having written it since it’s been so long, so I was able to read it without self-judging, and oh boy that was nice.
I’m also quite proud of Healing What’s Left (Parkgrass, Teen, 2k) for some reason, I dunno, maybe the dark political backdrop of the fic, or maybe just cos it’s the first time I’ve written Daphne as the main character and I’m happy with the result and now have some headcanons about her rather than her being an unknown blank character to me.
I also binge read a lot of my Voltron stuff recently and had big feels over that so....I also specifically enjoyed re-reading The Perks of Skincare (Klance (Voltron), Explicit, 3k) again cos I dunno, I like how I wrote Lance XD and also the Sheith fic I linked earlier is a fav for sure. Shiro/Rest is the ultimate OTP.
It really depends how soon after I write something or when I go back to re-read it as to what my fav is at any given time (or people commenting on it and hyping me up for it again).
Story You Were Nervous to Post:
Everything. But most recently I was terrified out of my mind before posting:
Friday Night by the Fire (Harry/Neville, Teen, 583 words) because I have a lot of fears about screwing up trying to write ace characters and somehow not even making that a focal point of the drabble made it even more terrifying,
No More Waiting (TianShan (19 Days), Teen, 2k) because it was a new fandom to write in,
Harry Potter and the Maudlin Merman series (Drarry, Teen+ Mature, 3k +6k) due to my feelings of inadequacy because it would be better as long fic but I struggle too much with writing these days to write long fics and can only manage short things. I’d rather write this as a long fic, but then I’d never finish it so connected oneshots are the best I can do right now, but I still feel it’s not good enough and have a meltdown whenever I post one. And speaking of which, I’ve been sitting on the next one for months and should probably just fucking post it already.
Actually, most recently: Minding One’s Limits (Cho/Ginny, G rated, 1.5k), because I gave Cho a disability modeled off my fibromyalgia and wrote a scenario similar to something I’d dealt with myself, it was incredibly uncomfortable to write in the first place, and then terrifying to post, even though it’s so short. But in the end I’m proud I finally wrote about it a bit? I dunno, might take me a while to work up the nerve again though XD (also was my first time writing that ship, so there was a lot of nervousness over that too)
Oh, and I was a super ball of anxiety posting Kinktober 2018 (Multiple ships, Explicit, 31 ‘chapters’, 26k) because for almost all of those it was the first time I was writing those kinks (and some were kind of squicks for me but I wanted to see if I could write them anyway cos I’m dumb like that) and in a lot of cases those ships were completely new for me to write too, in addition to trying to write and post 1 a day, so...yeah. Also that was my first time writing tentacle and human/werewolf smut so...yeah. I was an absolute mess that month and not in a fun way. But I’m still really glad I did it, it was fun =D
In summary, I’m always an anxious mess posting anything, but most especially if it’s something I’ve not written before or is personal to me XD
How Do You Choose Your Titles:
Most of the time I’m staring down the empty title field in AO3 cursing like a fucking sailor when I choose titles XD Sometimes it’s a line/theme/feeling from the fic. Sometimes it’s totally random and just comes to me. Sometimes I just grasp the first thing that I can no matter how stupid it sounds cos it’s been three days and I still don’t have a title and I’m over it and ready to post before I lose my nerve.
And tbh, it’s only getting harder to think of titles as my number of fics increases, and I’ve now started thinking of the perfect titles only to realise I already have a published fic by that title so....TITLES CAN DIE A FIERY DEATH
Sometimes, not so much anymore, it would turn out that I would give a wip doc a name just so I’d know what it was, sometimes as a joke with whoever was reading it and cheerleading while I wrote it, and then I would refer to it by that and think of it as that so much that when it came time to actually give the fic a title, it was too late and I could not think past that stupid file name, and that’s how Potter’s Insatiable Cock happened, and how I very nearly called a Merthur fic Arthur’s Wanking Tower (saved that one at the last moment thank god cos the tone of that fic is actually really serious and emotional and wtf was I even thinking with that file name and actually I linked to that fic above XD it ended up being called Unburdened).
Potter’s Insatiable Cock slipped through cos it’s actually relevant to the fic content and I could live with it.
But needless to say, I don’t give my wip docs joke names anymore XD
Do You Outline:
Only if I never want to actually write the idea...once I outline, it’s over. I can’t write to a detailed plan. It stifles me. I’ll always get stuck having to try and think ahead to the plan, and then I lose the flow and nothing works because I’m a pantser/intuitive/instinctive writer not a planner. Sometimes I jot down ideas but in like, the vaguest of ways, usually more focused on emotional development than actual scenes or events or anything because then I won’t be able to write it (and I rarely stick to those vague ideas anyway).
I can really only write when I’m staring down a blank doc with no idea where it’s going and discover it as I go (which is why writing is so fun for me). I can only finish a fic if I don’t think too hard about what’s going to happen next and just let it happen as I write.
This of course means that editing is a fucking bitch when I finish anything, beginnings often get totally re-written, but if I plan, it just doesn't happen at all, so I’ll take the extra editing if it means I manage to write something.
I do have a lot of detailed plotty fic idea outlines...and I mourn them cos I’m never going to write them now, but they’re so goooooooooood XD
Complete:
Online (across all 3 accounts): 381 (incl. my hidden drarry fics as they are technically online just hidden, not incl. individual oneshots/drabbles in collection ‘fics’, of which there are ridiculously many).
Offline: 20 (I have the worst habit of just sitting on completed fics and I really need to stop)
In-Progress:
Too many to name, last time I counted it was ~60 but that wasn’t even including my vld wips so...I don’t actually know. I hoard wips and just switch up what I work on all the time depending on mood/interest levels/effort required.
Current main focuses are a 50k+ plotty Drarry (*fingerscrossed* cos this is my first time seriously attempting something long (will probably reach 80k at least) in a very long time and I put it down for a few months and thought that was it but then I picked it up again recently, yay!), and re-writing some hidden fics I can’t put them back up in the quality they’re in, I just can’t guys, they’re awful.
I’ve been thinking a lot about working on the longish 8th year Pansmione fic I started for the wlw big bang before I had to pull out of cos stupid life stuff. I might pick that up again for a bit too, couldn’t be more different from the Drarry one so it’d make a nice focus break =)
Coming Soon/Not Yet Started:
I don’t even plan fics I’m writing, I sure don’t plan ahead to stuff I haven’t even started XD The only think I can think of for this category would be me re-writing my hidden long Drarry fics.
Oh, and there will be a Merthur oneshot coming (hopefully) soon, because @april-thelightfury115 won my custom fic giveaway with a merthur idea. Just waiting for my brain to cooperate so I can start that and not suck XD but I’m so fucking excited to write some Merthur again, you have no idea.
Oh, and lots more Sapphic September drabbles coming too, I’m way behind and only just posted day 11 cos this month is literal hell for me, but I am still planning on finishing the prompt list, no matter how long it takes, but no plan for those, not even which ships, I just sit down with the next prompt and a blank doc and see what happens.
Do You Accept Prompts:
Yes, I love writing to prompts, I’m take them via google form here, but I’m in such a bad space with my health I’ve been really struggling with writing lately, managed to do a bit of editing (fuck knows how), but writing new stuff is so hard, so there’s a long wait while I wait for my fibro fog to ease off to the point I can write new stuff with more regularity (and less stupid errors I have to edit out later).
Upcoming Story You Are Most Excited to Write:
Again, I so don’t plan. But I really want to be making more progress on the long plotty drarry wip I’m trying to write. I’m still not sure I’ll have the guts to post it even if I do finish it, given its subject matter (it would make a great careers or consent fest fic tbh), but damn I’m really excited by it. Not sure I can maintain it being plotty and not revert to focusing on the relationship (which is easier for me), but I can only try and see what happens. (trying to write a non-relationship plot without planning is a nightmare but I don’t have a choice if I want to write it at all XD)
I’m also now excited for my longish pansmione wip too actually, just because it’s already longer than my Dreville long-ish fic and it’s exciting and scary to do longer rarepair stuff. I’m way out of my comfort zone with the fic itself, but I dunno, I re-read some recently and fell in love with it all over again, like, flustered lesbian-awakening, disaster for Pansy (but sure she still hates her) Hermione? YES PLEASE! and also, I am guilty of not writing female characters as much as I should because, well, canonically, they don’t have much depth and I’m very meh about them, but in this there’s a huge focus on them because they’re all determined to band together for 8th year and Hermione is making friends with them (Parvati is like, dragging her along all the time XD) where she once dismissed them so it’s scary but exciting =D I’m getting more practice with all the sapphic I do over on knowyourincantations, so I feel more confident working on this wip now =D
I’m also kind of excited about re-writing my old long fics, because they’re all 3 years old now, and my writing tastes (and skill, yikes) have totally changed, so it’s like I’m writing the story again but how I would write it now while maintaining the overall same plot, so it’s really interesting, like discovering the story all over again. Like in one (Making Malfoy Blush) I’ve gone as far as introducing a new side character to replace another’s parts because I no longer feel those parts are in character for them. It’s super terrifying, but it’s fun at the same time =) it’ll take me forever to do these though, so I dunno about ‘upcoming’ really, I only chip away every now and then when I’m unable to write new stuff but am still coherent enough to do something.
Eh, it is what it is, I can’t write like I used to, hence me being inactive more than active these days, but I’m trying to work within my new limitations instead of getting frustrated with them and just giving up entirely =)
---
Now, who to tag....I think anyone I would tag has already done it, and if not..I blame the fog if I’m forgetting someone obvious, if you wanna do it just say I tagged you so I can be nosy and take a look =)
Again, please do not reblog this post
#*#tag meme#tag game#about me#hope i don't regret linking to my other ao3 accounts#but i'm at the point if I get more bullshit like before i'll just abandon fandom entirely rather than shift to one of my other accounts#they served that purpose well when I needed it but the reasons for having to do it are not a problem anymore#so i'm tentatively linking to them for anyone who wants to read my other works#and hoping no one is mean about it#and please don't reblog this post in case I have to delete it to cut the link
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Possess Me Daddy||Owen&Leo
The fact that this wasn't the weirdest bet Owen had ever accepted spoke volumes about his betting tendencies. It was however, the vaguest one so far. There had to be some reason he was being 'summoned' to this stuffy looking mansion in the middle of nowhere, which he'd reluctantly used his newly acquired, shitty little Toyota to get to. This Leo hadn't seemed like the type to be looking for a fight or to secretly be a serial killer but you never knew. What a kick he would get out of this guy turning out to be a Hannibal Lecter type. Either way, Owen was driven on by his curiosity and inability to turn down a bet, shady or not. He didn't care about the prize (whatever was in the guy's pockets? Most likely just lint), the bet itself was the real fun. And so was winning. Knuckles rapped on the big front doors, wondering if he'd been sent to some random address. That could very well have been the catch to this bet, honestly, and Owen chuckled to himself at the thought. A nice practical joke; but one he'd have to get back at Leo for if that was the case.
Who in their right mind came to someone's house so late at night? Leo glanced at the clock, running a hand through his hair and muting the silly game show he'd been watching on TV, finding his way to the front door carefully. The brand on his back was still angry, pulsing even when he laid still, but he no longer wanted to curl up and die when walking, so there was definitely improvement. Hand on his hip, shuffling like he had the sore body of an elderly contortionist who'd been stuck in a small box for ten hours, Leo swung it open. A man stood on the porch looking slightly lost, but at the same time, devious and hungry, as if waiting for Leo to step outside and be eaten alive. He was also incredibly handsome, he realized, struggling to stare at something other than his lips, which were about at eye level thanks to his slouched posture. Leo cleared his throat and stood up straight, ignoring the fire up his spine. Crap, had they met before and now he was going to look like an ass for not remembering his name? But no, the man wasn't initiated, with no link to speak of. He also didn't seem to be there to drag Leo out of his house and demand he give back someone who'd... well, he couldn't quite recall exactly why the vampire and werewolves had come to his property, but he knew they were trouble. Why was this new person here after dark? If he could calm down and remember his manners, maybe the answer would come. Sticking out his hand to shake, he grinned, this time able to make eye contact without shying away. "Hello, I'm Leo. I don't think we've met. How can I help you?"
The door finally swung open and Owen wasted no time in sizing up up his betting companion for the evening. Taller than he'd expected, obvious despite his awkward posture, and a bit ruffled. Oh dear, was it late? He'd just shown up straight after work, not really taking notice of the time. Leo finally straightened out, a crying shame since Owen had been pretty damn amused by the other man's awkwardly wandering gaze, but at least he could now see the panic behind the dark orbs. Worry that Owen had actually taken the bet and driven up or just plain confusion? The latter, it seemed, as Owen was offered a casual handshake and a cheery greeting. Oh, man... "I take it back, you're definitely just as adorable as I first pinned you to be." His hand clasped the other's, grin matching Leo's and beating it by a landslide, green eyes lit up with amusement. "I'm Owen. Here to claim..." His gaze trailed down, a second once over that was much slower and more visibly deliberate than the first, ending around Leo's waist, "whatever's in your pockets, I believe?" He shifted his stare back up to meet Leo's, finally letting go of the man's hand.
Oh. This was the guy who wanted his... betting virginity (he still shuddered to call it that). Thank god. But also, what the heck was he doing here so soon after making the deal? Would he just show up anywhere with no warning if it was staged like a bet? And why'd he feel the need to keep calling Leo adorable? "Shut up!" He shot back, because how could be possibly accept the nickname from this handsome fiend? Again, he scrubbed a hand through his hair, mouth twisting into a wide grin despite himself. As soon as Owen's heated, deliberate gaze flew up and down his body, he took the hint and joined him on the porch, shutting the door behind them so the Family or, god forbid, Dharm woke up and came to see who was here. "Owen," he said, less than enthusiastic. The bet... Well, in that moment, Leo thought he was clever, as his off hand had been resting in his pocket during the exchange, so he offered it back, palm facing up, trembling slightly, and probably sweatier than it had any right to be. "Here's your prize. My hand was in my pocket when I made that bet with you, so for now, it's yours. There's also a piece of hard candy if you feel like something sweet." Crap, as soon as the words left his mouth, he felt awkward, cheeks mantling with color, but it was too late to take them back (not that he really wanted to). Leo shuffled, glancing into the darkness and again at the door to make sure they were truly alone. They were. He wasn't sure if he should feel grateful or hunted. "Did you find the place okay?"
It was definitely amusing, seeing the guy get all flustered when Owen had just barely scratched the surface. He already liked where this bet could be taking him; if the guy was getting all squirmy and sweaty from this two minutes exchange... well, Owen was eager to see what he could do given more time. The door into the mansion closed, a clue that there was someone inside other than Leo. Not that Owen particularly cared since his current object of interest stood out on the porch with him. Owen huffed out a laugh as the shaking hand was offered, one eyebrow quirked at the guy. Very interesting indeed. "Pretty racy thing to wager on your first bet. And I never say no to something sweet." His fingers flexed it a 'give it here' motion, eyes still reading Leo even as the promise hard candy was passed over. He carried himself in a way that indicated an injury and he looked strong, no doubt about it, but much too flustered and reserved to be part of Owen's line of work (the first idea that had popped into his head, finding an equal was always nice). "Giant house in the middle of nowhere? Kinda hard to miss." Popping the bright red thing into his mouth with absolutely no regard for the fact that it was literally candy from a stranger, Owen rolled it around his tongue for a moment; a moment that was just a little too long for comfort considering that he was just letting his eyes roam. "So, what's it do? My prize?" he finally asked, head nodding towards Leo's previously offered hand, lips raised in a smirk.
"Racy? How so?" Leo asked, coy, but the guise was easy enough to see through. He'd known exactly what he was doing bringing Owen here, and while he sometimes got a little distracted over the words and lead-up to situations like this, he was more than willing to play the game. Cat and mouse. Except this little mouse was going bring the poor cat into the ranks of his hoard. "I'm glad. It's easy to get lost out here." Thank god it'd been Leo to open the door and not some other member of the family, or things would've gotten a lot more complicated fast. In fact, Owen was either incredibly lucky or smart to have made it to his porch without spotting another initiate or ending up in a leghold trap. Probably the former, since he didn't exactly look like the type to do anything but chase prey and follow his own whim. He tilted his head to the side, taking the initiative to play with the buttons of the man's shirt. "It does whatever you want." The whole thing would've gone over smoothly if his voice hadn't cracked with embarrassment over even saying those words, much less meaning them, not to mention the fact that Owen was watching him, unblinking, ever amused as he worked the candy in his mouth, and if that wasn't intimidating enough to throw him off, Leo was a pacifist. He dropped the limb back to his side, twining his fingers together nervously and clearing his throat, gaze finding the ground.
This was a slightly unexpected turn of events, Owen had to admit, but definitely a pleasant one. Most people were so stuck up about 'getting to know each other' and what not, that finding someone who was willing to play his game at the drop of a hat was always a surprise. One that you wouldn't catch him complaining about, messy emotions always just got in the way. Leo might not have been as... polished as Owen, awkwardness constricting at the man's throat, but it would be easy work with. "Sounds perfect." The hand previously working at his shirt retreated and Leo pulled back into his shell. Alright, mostly easy. "Since I've won the bet, we can take this somewhere else than your weird mansion? I know I said I'd make you pay but I might just be persuaded to buy you a drink."
Go somewhere else? No, that wouldn't do at all. Leo wanted to stay within the Family's reach, both because he planned on calling one of them as soon as Owen was... more at ease, and in case something went wrong. Not that he thought it would, but he was injured, and Dharm liked to keep a close eye on him these days. "Another time. I threw my back out a few days ago, and as good as a drink sounds, I probably shouldn't. Sexy, right?" He laughed to drive the lie home. "But if you drove here, we can take this to your car." Despite everything, excitement was bubbling up in his tummy, Owen's masculine scent of cigarettes, cologne, and something vaguely rusty mixing pleasantly with the melting hard candy, wafting off him with every exhale. They should definitely take this somewhere, Leo decided. Was he staring?
Owen's head cocked as Leo spoke, contemplating where this nicely unexpected night was going. 'Another time' definitely didn't fit into Owen's MO of 'do now, wonder about the consequences later (or never)'. "Pity, throwing out your back was literally what I had in mind." Maybe flirting was useless if this whole thing was being postponed, or maybe it wasn't; Leo was still looking like a candidate for a late night call some days from now. Alternatively, they could just go with Leo's giddy little idea and take this to the car. A bit unusual seeing as they were standing on the doorstep of a place that looked like it hid more than dozens of rooms but whatever. Might as well but that stupid car to use. "Look at you, taking a bet and then agreeing to immorally use a car I got in a very immoral way." He didn't waver from Leo's stare, the last of the hard candy that had made this situation that much more hilarious melting in his mouth. "I'm almost impressed, betting virgin." Long legs carried him back down the first of the steps, towards the driveway and car in question. And yes, fitting the two of them inside would definitely be a hassle but Owen had worked - and succeeded - in worse conditions.
God, why did this guy have to point out everything he was dutifully trying to ignore in order to keep some semblance of his reputation intact? "Owen! Shut up! That mouth of yours is going to get you in trouble one of these days." Leo huffed, folding his arms, but turned to follow him to the parking lot. Of course, he had no plans of doing anything about the things coming from his mouth even as the dirty talk continued, much less arguing since it all sounded like fun to him, even as his nose was still scrunching up and his face was hot. Everything was going smoothly. Owen became more and more handsome the more he spoke. But, all wrong (but good) things must come to an end, and the moment expired before it'd really begun. The link behind his ears, fresh and bloated like a leech after the earlier reminder to stay in his place, vibrated unhappily, and he twitched. Dharm was awake, probably pulled out of slumber by Leo's loud, anxious excitement over Owen, and instead of following the taller man off the porch, he froze in place, staring in the direction of his dad like if he tried hard enough, he'd see him through the walls. Fuck. And here he'd been hoping to see where this bet led before the serious stuff could happen. "Actually, you go ahead. I need to brush my teeth." Leo made his excuse and retreated back into the house, barely shutting the door behind him when he nearly ran into his dad, slightly rumpled, with the lantern in one ruined, burned hand and a pistol in the other. "Leo. Don't tell me I have to put the fear of God into that boy and chase him off my property," Dharm gritted out. Exhalation burned into shame, and while he hadn't necessarily been caught doing something wrong, the intention had been there, and Dharm knew it all too well from their connection. Leo avoided eye contact like the plague, taking the gun, flicking the safety back on; better it was in his hands than Dharm's, not wanting him to shoot on sight over something as trivial as attraction. "Let's go get him. He's strong. He'd make a great addition to our numbers," Leo said, almost pleading. He didn't realize how precarious the situation would become once Owen arrived, but it'd be worth it in the end, for all of them. Dharm nodded begrudgingly, and together, the two of them set off for the parking lot, one leisurely strolling and one wincing as the movement pulled at the brand on his back. There was Owen, looking like a picture of sin seated in the vehicle, waiting for him, and here he came with his dad, a weapon, and a Gift which would change his life forever. Dharm grew cold with anger, gaze shifting between the two like he was putting pieces of a puzzle together. Leo ignored the elder, grinning apologetically at Owen as he knocked on the car window with the handle of the pistol. "Owen, sweetie, I think this is a great time to introduce you to my dad. This is Dharm. Why don't you come out and meet him?" Leo tried to mimic the easy tone the two had earlier, but it was gone, instead replaced with something slightly frantic. He wanted so badly for this to go down without bloodshed. Dharm was silent, punctuating with an intense glower of disapproval aimed straight at Owen.
What a weirdo. Luckily, weirdness wasn’t enough to put Owen off, Leo was good looking and the slayer had nothing better to do. So he waited for Leo to return with dwindling amusement and considered driving away after being kept idle for a moment too long (patience was not one of Owen’s very few virtues) until Leo finally returned. With a gun and some company. Alright. Never a man to run from any sort of conflict, especially conflict that now had him mildly aggravated as he’d been promised something very different from a fight, Owen got out of the car with his hands raised and palms showing. “Shotgun wedding?” he asked as soon as he got out, looking the angry stranger up and down. No family resemblance there. Leo’s exact plans and motives were currently very unclear to Owen, who looked from this Dharm character to the gun to Leo’s panicked gaze. “Or is this some sort of cult thing? Letting a virgin kill an innocent?” Not that he was exactly innocent.
Leo's mouth twisted as Owen continued to mouth off, Dharm laughing short and bitter over the wedding comment. Then, quick, almost past what he could keep track of, with a single impulse echoing between them, Leo clicked the safety off and aimed the weapon at Owen's expensive, shiny shoe, firing, and striking true. It was a warning. He wanted to cry. His hands were shaking, but it refused to fall from them. This was bad, this was so much worse than anything he could've imagined, but at least the bullet went into his limb instead of his head. There was still hope that they could make it out of this. "We're not a cult, and you're not innocent," Dharm said in the way he did when he was growing very short on patience, needing everyone to listen close and cut the bullcrap. Grip tightening on the Relic, the elder wordlessly called on the spirit within. Leo's head swiveled to follow its invisible motion, from the lantern straight to Owen's head, curling around his mouth first, then his nose, and finally the rest of him, oozing, dripping with the dark intention of possession. Fleetingly, Leo wished he had a Gift of his own, so he could've just done the same thing minus the pistol, but as always, Dharm knew best, and it was far from his place to question that, even if it meant shooting his crush through the foot. "Fear makes believers of us all. You'd best embrace it," said his dad, now slightly smug.
Owen had always been warned that his big and ever-flapping mouth would get him in trouble, which it had, but it had never gotten him shot. He’d been shot, of course, but usually just through pure muscle and under circumstances of extreme stress where the adrenaline had made the bullet feel like a scratch. The shot hadn't been aimed at his chest or head, which was pretty important, but with the gun in Leo's hand the slayer hadn't been expecting it to go off, for some reason now completely unclear to him. Because the gun had gone off and it hadn't been raised high enough for his instincts to kick in and make sure a lead slug didn't travel through his fucking limbs. Owen's body tilted until it hit the car, pain surging up his leg for the briefest of seconds before the adrenaline kicked in to numb it. Not for long but long enough for his brain to come to the conclusion that mouthing off further was the best course of action here. "Noticed there was no correction on the 'virgin' part," he gritted out. A bad decision, obviously, but the searing ache in his foot and the fact that someone had made him dependant on a shitty fucking Corolla to stand was making him pretty pissed off. Bullet through his foot or not, he could definitely take down Leo and the old bag of dicks holding a lantern for some fucking reason, and Owen's arm braced against the car with offence in mind when something... else happened? Neither man had moved but it felt like acid (it? What was it?) as it attempted and then easily succeeded in shoving its way in through Owen's orifices. A hand to his face assured him that there was nothing present to cause the sensation but he was still choking on the nothing until he just wasn't. Without realizing it, the situation had brought him down on his ass, back leaning against the car as he panted and yeah; that bullet wound was really making its presence known now, wasn't it? Dharm spoke and the curse Owen had meant to spit back felt like it had been tugged away on an invisible string. Blood loss? Or just... sense? Believers... believing in whom? The faint and brand new echo in his head provided the answer; it was towering over him with a smug expression on his face. And for the first time since he could remember, Owen nodded - nodded meekly, even. Something deeper down, deeper even than the tugs and pulls and what felt like phantom emotions, the slayer could tell something was a bit off. He just couldn't quite grasp at the what.
Really? Owen was on the receiving end of a bullet and he still found the willpower to talk back? Leo sighed, free hand running over his temple as Dharm, somehow, grew angrier, twisting his hand cruelly to twist the spirit further into Owen, then called it back. Luckily though, as their newest initiate slid to the ground, seemingly cowed at last, Dharm was satisfied, straightening up and letting go of his anger. Leo was finally allowed to drop the gun, pity and concern surging up as the chokehold over his free will was finally ended, but still, he didn't move a muscle, didn't dare while his dad was still speaking. "Welcome to the Family, son. You should thank me. Without me, you'd be full of chaos." The words were accompanied with a proud grin and a swift kick to Owen's injured foot. "Watch how you talk to my son. Leo, bring him home and patch him up. I'd hate for him to suffer too long under our care." Dharm's expression, however, stated that he'd enjoy exactly that fate, and he turned on his heel, heading back to the house, apparently satisfied enough to seek sleep once again, leaving Leo to pick up the pieces. Only when the man completely fade from sight did Leo dare to move, stepping guiltily closer. Poor Owen. The Gift was a hard one to receive, and on top of being shot... but at least now he understood.
Welcome to the Family. The Family. A family Owen was sure he wasn't supposed to recognize but... he did. In a way. Or at the very least he felt them (somehow) and consequently knew his place within these ranks. A place he wasn't used to being in but there was no fighting back now; Owen was reminded of his worst encounter with the incubus and honestly, he felt similar as to when his soul had been pulled halfway out through his mouth. Just tired. And hurting. Apparently not enough, it seemed, as Dharm's foot made contact with Owen's. They slayer clenched his jaw, stifling a low growl that threatened to crawl up as a response. Whether he choked it down because of his regular stubbornness to not show he was in pain or just to not be insubordinate, he couldn't be sure. Everything was getting a little bit hazy. Had the bullet gone all the way through his foot? Was it blocking the bleeding just a bit or... probably not, he realized, as his attempt to drag himself to his feet via the hood of the car ended in his body failing him - the fucking traitor- and slumping into Leo's. The guy who had just shot him. But who had also given him a higher purpose, it seemed, so maybe it was okay. Thank fuck he was tall. "Gonna need... a raincheck on that bet," he wheezed out, throat feeling awful despite nothing corporeal having actually entered it. It was the angry little buzz inside his brain that made him finally shut up more so than his sore throat, so he reluctantly let his weight be hoisted by Leo. His bruised ego would be tended to when he wasn't literally bleeding out from his foot.
Leo bit back a groan as he caught Owen before he could fall again, back protesting loudly. If he were at full strength, he could've just hoisted him over his shoulder and walked him home, but for now, slinging his arm around his shoulder and holding him up by the waist would have to do. It could've gone worse, he reasoned, yet seeing the spitfire man silent, pale, and boneless was disconcerting. He shifted him, trying to find an angle that didn't pull so direly at the brand, only to be rewarded with something sharp and stiff to to the ribs. Right, it was probably a knife or something for defense, and Leo, not wanting to be prodded further, made the decision to pull it out and keep it in his pocket for safekeeping, only to find ... stakes? And a tiny skull-printed flask which seemed to be full of holy water? Was Owen a vampire slayer? If so, the whole situation just lightened up considerably. Along with hunters and wardens, slayers were treated exceedingly well within the Family, given purpose beyond what the average unskilled human received, allowed to rise through the ranks and become more equal, know more secrets, and have more power. "Don't worry about it. I'll be here." There was so much to talk about, but with Owen fading fast, it looked like their conversation would have to wait for another day. How on earth the attempted tryst lead to someone so perfect for their cause to join ranks was a mystery, but Leo was just glad Dharm didn't kill him. Patching up his poor bloody foot was an easy task, but to do it, the two of them needed to be somewhere safe and clean. Pocketing Owen's gear, he pulled him towards home.
#touchofchatzy#apaininyourneck#gun tw#blood tw#violence tw#chatzy: possess me daddy#// i don't know what to say#here it is yall
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OT: Clarity (part 2 of me and writing)
One of the things I loved about Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead was how comfortable the Play is with being unclear. Of course, most of this is that Stoppard is a master of stagecraft and somehow, when done on stage it all makes sense. Or feels like it makes sense in the universe we’re seeing. When done onstage WELL, we’ll say.
Its this veneer of quality and professionalism that keeps things that seem chaotic enjoyable instead of “oh no this fellow doesn’t know what he’s doing...”
To contrast, PG Wodehouse’s stories are strikingly clear.
I periodically get kind of obsessed with haunted houses. I can’t go in them - I have too strong of a startle reflex and a sharp shrill scream that attracts attention. But I love reading about them and reading descriptions of them. It feels chaotic in a haunted house buts its very controlled.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern are Dead is a haunted house you’re familiar with - and you’re there with two people who both are taking the haunted house way too seriously and also periodically forgetting that they are in a haunted house. You enjoy the haunted house, of course, but you primarily are enjoying watching your friends freak out. Occasionally a werewolf comes out and scares one of them if you take too long in a room. Its a good time but their literal conviction they are going to die when a light flashes and the sound of a truck plays is both hilarious and a little sad
With PG Wodehouse you are behind a one way mirror in a haunted house. You clearly see how the house works and can fully appreciate how goofy people look when they are freaking out over cardboard, flashlights and sound effects because you can see its very safe and everyone will be ok. The guy in the werewolf costume has perfect timing for moving people on to the next room. He is named Sid and you’ll have coffee with him at IHOP after his shift.
I’m sure there’s a proper word for the quality I’m trying to describe, but I’m not sure if this makes sense out of my head. Clarity isn’t the word, but clarity is what makes the haunted house safe.
I know I struggle with clarity in my writing. I’m sure that the teacher I mentioned in my previous post was responding to something very real. I phrase things oddly. I do this when speaking as well.
An example: I wrote a story that takes place in a boys school that is famous for being a boys school. If you were to ask someone what, if anything, they knew about this school they’d say ‘Its a boy’s school’. I wrote almost all male characters - with the only female character clearly visiting. I mention, by name, a DIFFERENT school that I call a girl’s school. I researched this school for almost a year before I began writing this story. I bought books about it. I don’t fuck around with my fan fic because I have crippling life altering writing anxiety.
The first comment I got, within an couple of hours of posting it, was a suggestion I do a basic google search about the very general subject of upper class English schools. When I later contacted this person for clarity, they explained they thought I hadn’t written this famous boys school as a boys school. I’ve reread the original thing I wrote dozens of times. I don’t understand at all how anyone would get that impression, much less get the impression I’d done so little research that I needed to do a basic google search on the subject.
I struggle with clarity.
Unfortunately I haven’t known anyone I’ve trusted to actually verbalize how I’m being unclear. When I wrote for Yearbook, that teacher would often rewrite my sentences and when she did that I’d go “OH, I see. I get it now.” But even though we’re all using the same words and rules, sometimes these things are subtle. I’m pretty quick on the uptake when I’m taught directly. I paid strict attention in English class. I’m one of those weirdos who genuinely enjoyed learning about grammar. Apparently its something more subtle than grammar errors.
Working on this for the last year or so, I’ve been focusing on the two clearest writers I know: PG Wodehouse and Agatha Christie.
I’ve been listening to them on audiobook because I am an easy reader and get sucked into the worlds of these authors so easily that I miss the structural things one wants to look for as a writer. Since I have an auditory processing disorder, I have to focus in a different way to listen to audiobooks which is oddly helpful towards this end.
I’ve been repeatedly struck by Wodehouse’s clarity in writing since I’ve begun studying him, but the example that springs to mind is the opening to Pigs Have Wings.
I listened to Pigs Have Wings with only the vaguest knowledge of the Blandings series. Basically I knew it involved pigs and impostor stories.
Within 5 minutes - probably not even a full front and back of a page - an incredible amount of information is conveyed so enjoyably that you don’t even consciously realize you’re getting exposition. Its like an expert nurse injecting information directly into your brain.
In five minutes I know who Lord Emsworth is, his goals/motivations. I know Constance and her goals/motivations. I know their relationship to each other both personal and interpersonal. I know the names of every person staying in the house and how Lord Emsworth and Lady Constance feel about them. I also get information the household’s relationships to each other and an idea of what their goals/motivations might be.
Its an amazing piece of writing and it goes down so smoothly that if I were reading it I would have been halfway through before it occurred to me ‘Why do I feel like I know these characters better than real life people I’ve known for decades?”
Clarity seems to be a skill and a skill one can learn. I’ve noticed that most quality older genre work is often strikingly clear
I’ve had 2 stories die on me since the year began. A third never got beyond a vague concept.
I’ve been working on a fourth for over a month now. Rewrote the opening twice before I realized I was writing from the wrong perspective and have been trying to rewrite it a third time.
I sit down to write and my brain tells me that I can’t even write a famous boys school that is commonly known as a boys school in a manner that is recognizable as a boys school even when its incredibly, unbelievably obvious to me and I’ve done a ridiculous amount of background work. That I will never write anything anyone else will understand.
Its as if I had gone through a local haunted house only to discover a creature that looked just like something I’d seen in my nightmares for years made from a repainted Spirit of Halloween animatronic with dollar tree glow sticks attached and had a huge panic attack. Sid took off his werewolf mask and discreetly escorted me out but I knew. And Sid knew. And you can’t go back to the haunted house without seeing Sid.
I know, intellectually, the only way to define my clarity in writing is to write and get experience in communicating effectively. But I’m incapable of seeing clear and not clear in my own writing, I don’t have anyone I trust to read my work and give actual helpful feedback and for some weird reason I can only physically write the stories I think of if I am actively planning to publish them online.
I’ve read writing books by the dozen. That’s what I did during the ten years I didn’t write, oddly enough.
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