When did you first get into f1? Can you remember the first race you watched?
it hasnt been long compared to alot of people!! i didnt grow up with it being american and all (plus no one i know is into motorsports at all). i read lauren asher's dirty air series during quarantine and it got me hooked
first race i watched was imola this year! hbu anon??? always curious to hear peoples stories!
I’m craving autistic Virgil content and I may I humbly request some autistic Virgil content for my starved projecting soul? /j -exhausted autie
I haven't done anything in fucking ever and everyone keeps asking for it so lets go, ig! I think this is a human AU, really the whole aut!sides stuff is pretty nebulous.
Virgil's always found comfort in hoodies. This had caused some issues while he was still growing because he would get super attached to whatever hoodie he was currently on and extremely reluctant to stop wearing it, even when it no longer really fit him. Eventually, he got better at replacing them when they no longer fit but it was still a tricky process to get used to the new hoodie.
Virgil can't go to concerts. It's not necessarily the noise or the people--though those things certainly don't help--it's more the fact that concerts are the antithesis of how he experiences music. Music has be solely his; he doesn't even really give people song recommendations and he gets uncomfortable if people can hear what it is he's listening to (though luckily his noise cancelling headphones work pretty well both ways). He would like to be able to have that kind of experience, he thinks, but the idea of actually going makes him have to stim away the unease.
Virgil actually has hyper-empathy and it stresses him out 90% of the time. It's nice in theory, knowing so acutely when people are upset, but at the same time he's already on edge so much that other people's emotions on top of his is a hell of a lot to deal with. He generally avoids crowds and doesn't really like leaving the house too much, though he'll go out for important things, and when the others are upset sometimes he'll have to lock himself away in his room to avoid it rather than helping. He feels guilty about it, of course, but the others reassure him that it's fine to be overwhelmed and he should take time for himself first.
Virgil loves cats. They're soft and easy for him to understand, plus if you gain their trust they'll sometimes just lie on top of you and purr which is like the best kind of pressure stim. He had a cat growing up that he adored but he hasn't been able to get one since moving in with the others (cause Allergies). He will absolutely stop in the middle of street to try and pet a stray cat though, even when they have places to be. It just makes him happy, in a calm sort of way he doesn't usually feel.
Virgil does most of his socialising online, just because he finds it easier to communicate when he has time to think of replies and all that. Even when the others are home (and sometimes even in the same room as him) he prefers to text them or message them rather than speak to them out loud a lot of the time. This isn't always practical or necessary but it's often enough that the others have gotten used to it. When it's a Serious Conversation he's even more likely to want to type it out over talking and though that did frustrate Roman at first, it only took a quick explanation for him to understand why Virgil does it.
Did your special interest switch recently and that's why you're on hiatus because if so same :(
mhm! I still like Thomas but not enough to keep up a whole blog, I think. this blog is probably on a permanent hiatus, I just haven't gotten around to saying as much. it's unfortunate, because this is one of the best SpIns I've ever had, but that is the nature of being neurodivergent, I suppose.
“You must be freezing! Here, take this.” or “I’m so proud of you” with toddler Patton and older brother Virgil pls! thank you!!! (And are we allowed to send in two? >.
“Pat!” Virgil called, racing his way out of the house with his younger brother’s puffer jacket clutched tightly in his hands.
He’d been almost in awe of how tiny that jacket was when they’d first bought it, after all, there was no way Patton was really that small, was there? Of course, when his brother had first tried the jacket on it fit almost perfectly, giving Pat just enough length in the sleeves to pull his hands inside and flap excitedly.
Toddlers were still weirdly tiny, Virgil thought, but at least Patton seemed mostly okay.
Said toddler was now jumping around in the snow, giggling and grinning as Virgil ran up to him. “Look, look, V, I made a snow ‘gel!”
Sure enough, there was a Pat sized dent in the snow on the ground beneath them and his shirt and pants were soaked through almost entirely. Virgil screwed up his face, taking in the sight of his brother’s bright grin and trying not to think of what the aftermath of this little adventure would be for their dads.
He did feel a little bit bad because Virgil said that he could watch him and that he promised nothing would happen and it was only 10 minutes, could they please play for just a bit? Though thinking back now, maybe he should have waited.
“’s really good, Pat,” Virgil said, ruffling Patton’s hair, “I’m so proud of you.”
Patton blinked up at him, his eyes big and round and Virgil thought he looked a little bit like a doll when he did that, like his eyes were painted on instead of properly inside his head.
“D'you wanna make a snow ‘gel, V?” Patton asked, tugging at the sleeve of Virgil’s jacket and dragging him out further into the yard to where the snow was unbroken, “Come on, c’mon, c’mon, c’mon, come make a snow ‘gel w'me!”
Virgil laughed at his brother’s enthusiasm, unable to keep the smile off his face.
“I would totally make a snow angel with you but… well…”
“What?” Patton’s pout was well on its way to tears but Virgil wasn’t worried, just twisting up his face in an expression of fake reluctance.
“Mmmm, I’m not supposed to tell you.”
“Tell me! Tell me! Tell me!” Patton chanted, jumping up and down in place.
“Okay, okay!” Virgil leant down so he was whispering into Patton’s ear, draping the coat around him as he did so, “Papa bought secret cookies he’s trying to hide from Daddy but he promised that if we’re good he’s gonna give us some.”
Patton gasped and Virgil stifled a giggle in response. “Really?!”
“Yeah!”
That seemed like enough to have Patton excited, jumping around in a circle echoing “cookie” over and over again. Thankfully, he’d gripped onto the coat and kept it wrapped around him, so even though he was still wet he was being protected from the cold a little bit.
“You wanna go inside and see if we can convince Papa to give us one now?” Virgil asked, interrupting Patton’s bouncing.
If it was possible, Patton lit up even more at that, grabbing ahold of Virgil’s gloved hand and dragging him towards the door, completely unknowing and uncaring that this had been Virgil’s plan all along.
the realisation that sanders sides will have a final episode one day just hit me in the face and i... might be crying
oh gosh! well if it helps at all, even if canon content stops (which I don't imagine to be anytime soon), I think it's gonna be a good long while before fan content stops being made. there'll still be fics to read and art to look at and comics and AUs and ask blogs, etc. etc. like, yes, it's gonna suck a lot when the show officially "ends" but as a fandom, I think we'll keep things going for a while.
Summary: There were very few people on Logan’s shit list. He was pretty forgiving, as long as people went the proper lengths to apologise for any missteps, and he was much more likely to declare someone not worth his time than he was to take an active role in disliking them.
One person who was on that list, however, was Remy Wake.
Pairing: Losleep
A/N: Whoops! Looks like it’s not a fake fic title anymore. I’m so, so glad I’ve finally managed to write another fic cause I’ve been trying for like a week and all it’s gotten me was a lot more WIPs and a lot more frustration. But I did it! So here you go!
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Logan was not sure why he showed up to this party. He barely knew anybody, he wasn’t interested in drinking and, despite his tendency to get work done weeks before the deadline, he did have actual studying to be doing.
He also wasn’t sure why, when pulled by the hand to join a small circle on the floor by Roman—the only person at the party he actually knew and the driving force that had landed him here in the first place—he didn’t immediately get up and leave. Circles at a party were never a good thing, not if you didn’t want to get roped into some party game you most certainly weren’t interested in, like truth or dare or never have I ever or-
Seven minutes in heaven. Apparently.
And, of course, it was just Logan’s luck that he was selected to go first.
After Roman had lifted him clean off the ground and shoved him into the closet—much to his loud protests—he had nothing to do but wait for his partner in this party hell to arrive. He had already tried the knob the moment the door had been closed behind him but it seemed as if this group must have located the host and obtained a key because it wouldn’t budge.
The wait seemed to take much longer than he had expected it to—if Logan was prone to paranoia, he would say that the selection of his partner hadn’t been quite so random but he wasn’t, so he didn’t—but soon enough the door of the closet opened again and a body was being shoved in beside him.
There was very little light in the closet but, thankfully, Logan’s eyes had already had time to adjust to the darkness and he got the chance to see his partner before they had a chance to see him. And he wasn’t pleased with what he saw.
Remy Wake.
The biggest slacker and most irreverent asshole Logan had ever had the displeasure of knowing.
Based on the scowl on Remy’s face upon recognising his cellmate, Logan would assume Remy had a similar dislike of his person, but as opposed to Logan, he thinks it’s unlikely that Remy’s opinions of him have any basis in fact. (He ignores the niggling thought in the back of his mind that, given their incredibly limited encounters, he’s not entirely sure that his opinions actually have much of a basis in fact either.)
Logan had already been certain that nothing was going to happen in this closet tonight but setting his sights on Remy had only made him doubly as certain.
“What a surprise,” he muttered, his face set firmly in disapproval—not that Remy could probably see it all that well with those sunglasses on in the dark closet, “There’s a party and Remy Wake is present. Surely, it’s unprecedented.”
Remy looked away for a moment, heaving out a sigh. “How the fuck would you know how many parties I’ve attended? It’s not like you ever come. And it seems even when you do you look like a fucking tax accountant.”
Something similar had actually been said by Roman when Logan had left the dorms earlier this evening but Logan hadn’t let it get to him then and he certainly wouldn’t let it get to him now. He simply smoothed out the material of his coat—strange to keep it on even in the house, yes, but he was always particularly susceptible to the cold—and resigned himself to seven minutes of tense, frustrated silence.
Against all odds, they did manage to survive the seven minutes—the time spent glowering at each other, rolling their eyes and making snide comments.
At one point, Remy actually removed his sunglasses. He was muttering something about trying to find a way out of here, blinking around the room with eyes much bluer than Logan had expected by any means. Logan couldn’t even figure out why Remy would even wear sunglasses with eyes that blue. When Remy caught Logan staring, though, he quickly shoved his glasses back on, seemingly trying to look like it hadn’t bothered him by throwing out some comment about Logan’s loss at his debate meeting last week. Logan wasn’t even sure how Remy knew he’d lost debate last week.
It didn’t matter though because they were back to arguing and by the time the closet door was opened, Logan could not be gladder to finally be rid of Remy Wake.
Of course, it didn’t stop there.
No, suddenly, Logan was encountering Remy all over campus. He was lounging about at Logan’s favourite coffee place, he was the new member of Logan’s study group, he was hanging off Roman’s arm, giggling in a way that was just so incredibly irritating.
Logan had tried to ask Roman why Remy had suddenly seemed to become his new best friend (in a way that he thought totally didn’t make him sound jealous or needy, thank you very much) but, in response, Roman just gave him that smile. That stupid smile that usually indicated that Roman thought he was incredibly socially inept—which, true, but why say it—and Logan had stormed off to fume.
Stupid Remy. Stupid Remy with his stupid smirk and his stupid flirting and his stupid laugh and his stupid hair and his stupid eyes behind his stupid sunglasses and the stupid way he hated him even though Logan wasn’t sure why.
Logan wasn’t really sure why he hated Remy either.
Sure, maybe he wasn’t the most invested in his studies but then, neither was Roman with certain classes, and that didn’t stop them from being—sometimes reluctant—best friends. There was just something about Remy that made him feel and, worse, made him feel things he didn’t understand. And Logan hated not understanding.
When he came out of his room, looking vaguely like he’d just gone through something of an emotional hurricane, Roman just gave him a pat on the back and one of the Crofter’s cookies he’d stashed away. Clearly, Logan’s revelation was only a revelation to him. And, hopefully, to Remy.
He tried to catch Remy at the end of the next study meeting, looming over his shoulder as he packed his bag.
“Uh, sorry, hon, but I got nothing to say to you, ‘kay?” Remy snarked, throwing his satchel over his shoulder and raising his eyebrows at Logan, “So why don’t you just get out of my way.”
Logan stood his ground despite Remy’s comment, taking a moment to gather his thoughts. Remy looked as if he was just about to push past Logan when he finally spoke up
“I’m sorry.”
At that, Remy looked… genuinely caught off guard and for just a moment his persona seemed to drop, leaving him confused and… something else Logan couldn’t quite identify.
He took a breath, his brow furrowed.
“I wasn’t… exactly sure why it was that I found you so frustrating. I had convinced myself that it was your lack of study habits and generally—” Logan waved his hand around for a moment—“flippant attitude towards school in general. Though, of course, that excuse fell apart as soon as you joined the study group and I realised that Roman is just as bad, if not worse, in engaging in his classes.”
Remy gave no reply, simply watching him as he took another moment to think.
He cleared his throat. “That is all to say, that I apologise for my behaviour towards you over the time we’ve known each other and I would appreciate the chance to metaphorically… start over, as it were?”
There was another moment of silence as Remy regarded him, lips twisted slightly but in a way that Logan hoped was more considering than it was cruel.
“Yeah, alright,” Remy finally conceded, a slight grin pulling at his features, “Starting over it is.”
Logan stuck out his hand for Remy to shake and at Remy’s equal-parts confused and amused expression, he elaborated.
“I… uh, I never got the chance to properly introduce myself, I don’t think. I’m Logan McKenzie, I like debates, books, astronomy and anybody who’ll give me the opportunity to ramble for hours about things they probably don’t care about.”
A grin spread across Remy’s face as he took Logan’s hand in his. “Remy Wake. I like coffee, cute boys, puzzles and anybody who’ll let me wake them up at three in the morning for a trip to get slushies.”
“Wanna go for coffee?”
Remy grinned, big and bright and real. “Yeah. Sounds good, nerd.”
—————
“So… uh, did you ever figure out why you did seem to hate me so much?” Remy asked, bumping his shoulder against Logan’s as they made their way out of the library.
Logan startled slightly. “Oh! Yes. I find you extremely physically attractive.”
Remy didn’t think he could be blamed for walking directly into the doorframe at that but with the sound of Logan’s laughter echoing in his ears, so pretty and joyful, he wasn’t really hurrying to explain himself.