Hi for the tag game pls tell me about no im tired because i am tired rn and that speaks to me
HI ANON OH MY GOD YOU PICKED THE ONE I HAVENT TOUCHED IN LITERALLY OVER A YEAR literally it’s only titled that because i just could not be bothered to come up with something until i finished (which… ah… never happened)
without getting too much into it, i wrote this series for this norwegian show called ragnarok—it’s on netflix, i enjoy it quite a bit, and laurits really… struck a chord with me as a genderweird person. take norse mythos and put it in modern day norway with some added commentary around industry and climate change and you’ve got ragnarok; it’s more drama than action-adventure, which i particularly like
so basically i wrote a series about genderweird laurits and the last piece was supposed to be a sort of prediction for the third season but i never finished it and i deleted that last account for reasons and it’s been in my folder ever since. have a snippet!
Ran and Fjor have Wotan cornered, but the old man has clearly been holding back some lessons in seidr that Laurits has quietly stolen from the memories in his blood, because he bellows loud enough to shake the earth and thousand pairs of bloodstained hands erupt from below, strong and writhing and glowing as Valhalla awakens once more.
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Despite the title, this is not a supernatural fic -- it’s a character study of Fjor Jutul from Ragnarok (2020).
Compelled by Fjor’s arc in season one? Think the idea of an immortal character rebelling against his immortal family for love is cool? Want to read from the pov of the most misogynistic character I’ve encountered in recent media?
Takes place up to the end of 1x04 Ginnungagap, heavily Fjor/Gry focused.
Warnings: Swearing, Death mentions, Food/Eating, Sleep deprivation
Word Count: 1,333
Author’s Note: A wild Virge has appeared!
Virgil was absolutely 100% fucked. There was no way he was getting out of this one. Being lost in the woods was one thing, eventually, if he kept walking in one direction long enough, he’d make it out. Being lost and alone with something following him in the woods was something else entirely. Oh, and the last few days he’d been hearing voices! That was new. So he’d decided, why not? Let’s follow the voices.
Unfortunately, whatever was following him also found that idea just swell. Therefore, still screwed.
So he carried on as death loomed over him, he knew it would come, but he didn’t know when, and at this point giving up was just sad. It was like high school. Nine months ago he wouldn’t have said anything was worse than high school but this qualified. Wasn’t worse than gym though.
Still, the gym didn’t have underbrush that trips you up and tree branches that grab at your legs. The monster was closer than ever… should he really start running now? Shit- yeah he should start running. He got about two steps into that plan before he rammed into a disturbingly warm tree. Wide blue eyes blinked at him in surprise.
Not a tree, not a tree.
“You’re human!” The person(?) said as a huge smile split his(?) face. Wow, he(?) really did look like another kid… but looks can be deceiving.
“And what are you?” Virgil hissed, pulling out of reach.
“Patton!” The kid held out his hand but Virgil didn’t move, “Oh, I’m human too.”
Before Virgil could decide what to do with the outstretched hand, a garbled growl sounded from behind him, making him whip around and accidentally stumble backwards into… Patton.
“Oh, excuse me for a moment.” the strange boy stepped in front of Virgil, in between him and the pair of glowing eyes glinting from the trees. “Would you please leave us be?” Patton then proceeded to throw a very large rock quite violently in the direction of the eyes. One dull thunk and a whimper later, whatever had been following Virgil all this way was gone. Just like that. Made Virgil feel real good about himself.
“Hey kiddo, do you have somewhere to stay? My friend and I are living right around here, and we’ve got plenty of room.” That wasn’t suspicious. Let’s invite the bumbling idiot that just proved himself entirely incompetent to our secret hideout. Either this boy was stupid, tricking him, or he was way too nice. As much as Virgil wished it was nice, he was gonna go with stupid or evil. Still…
“You have a base?”
“Well,” Patton chuckled, “I dunno about ‘base’ it seems a bit too cozy for that title!”
Cozy. Virgil’s legs quivered at the word. All the adrenaline that had been keeping him going rushed out of him. “Cozy”. It emanated warmth, and happiness. Being wrapped in blankets. Pillow fights. Laughter. Being safe. Feeling home. It was an awful idea to trust something that felt so good. It had to be a trap, it had to be! But it had been days since Virgil had slept. Weeks since he’d had a blanket or a pillow… or a bed. He was afraid he might collapse, or worse, cry, if he tried to resist the offer. All his bitter memories that had sprouted from foolish trust, faded to nothing more than fuzzy sparks of feeling. Not nearly enough to stop him as he nodded. As he allowed Patton to lead him back to a decrepit mansion of a cabin. As he fell deep into the soft blankets, pillows, and dreams.
***
Shit. So.. Virgil might as well accept his demise. Gods he was so stupid! Falling asleep, unprotected, in someone else’s house, he just had to-
There was someone in the corner of the room. It wasn’t even the boy he saw before (unless it totally was because that boy was a shapeshifting monster who was about to eat his brains). Somehow, the figure hadn’t noticed him. He was staring intently at a wall. So Virgil’s brain said, hey, we’re gonna die anyways and decided the best thing to do was get his attention.
“Uh, hi.” Virgil hadn’t noticed how dry his throat was. The words barely came out as a croak. He swallowed and tried again. “Hello?”
The guy (Virgil was gonna call him Sean, he looked like a Sean) in the corner snapped out of his haze. “Hello.” they were in awkward silence for a moment before Sean added, “I’ve never seen someone sleep for twenty five hours before.”
Virgil wasn’t quite sure what he was going to say but it didn’t much matter because his voice refused to function.
“Logan, by the way,” Sean said, handing him a large glass of water.
Virgil resisted the urge to gulp it all down (last time he’d made that mistake he thought he was having a heart attack), but the water tasted so sweet and cool. He restrained himself to a small sip, and chose his first word to be-
“What?”
“That’s my name.”
“Oh, that’s better than Sean”
“Pardon?”
“Nothing! I just, er...yeah, nothing.”
Logan made eye contact and Virgil could immediately feel the older boy staring into his soul. He suddenly felt like he was about to get detention. Logan broke the stare and gave a small smile.
“And your name?” Virgil figured, eh, they hadn’t killed him when he was entirely defenseless for over a day, they got to know his name.
“Virgil.”
“Funny,” Logan stood to leave, “I had you pinned as a Brandon.”
Virgil could only stare at the closed door. Okay, so maybe Logan was cool.
***
Staring at a closed door suddenly becomes much more exciting when the door opens. It becomes infinitely more exciting when the person who opened it has cookies. The chocolate chip cookies smelled as warm as Patton’s smile. Virgil didn’t trust that smile yet, as much as he wanted to, but his stomach was rumbling and if his mouth watered any more he would choke. You see, Virgil was fully aware at this point that he had made several poor decisions, so what’s just one more in the good name of cookies? So he sat up straighter (heh) and tried his best to stare even harder at the delicious platter.
“Are you sure the first things he should be eating a-” Logan’s voice coming from somewhere downstairs was cut off by Patton innocently shutting the door (so they were definitely different people).
“Do ya-” he paused for a moment noticing how intensely Virgil was eyeing the baked goods, “Do you want a cookie?” he finished, just a hint of fear in his voice.
“YesIwouldlikeacookie” Dammit Virgil, you desperate sweet-toothed bitch. Patton, apparently amused by Virgil’s cookie-simping antics, picked out the largest and most buttery of the cookies. Dear lord, Virgil might cry. Every instinct in him was screaming, a warm bed, a place to stay, and cookies? It had to be too good to be true. It probably was. More importantly though, he now had a cookie.
It was even better than he could have ever imagined. However stubbornly agnostic Virgil was, the only way he could describe the cookie was heavenly. In all honesty he could have gone on for hours about it, how the butter felt like sunlight shining through a window onto a velvety carpet, where you could lay for hours, how the melted chocolate chips made his heart warm like a fireplace too late at night casting a soft orange glow over laughing faces. (I’ll spare you the rest).
In short, it was tasty.
And it wasn’t poisoned.
Actually Logan and Patton had made exactly zero attempts on his life. And… Virgil really needed a safe place to live if until everything blows over. He choked down his anxiety and just asked
“Would you...er, can-can I stay here? Like, for a while?”
This time Patton’s grin was a whole lot less scary.
***
Asks are now open for Virgil too!
***
@whats-up-kiddos @ananonsplace @ollyollyoxinfree @arya-skywalker and @supernovainthenightsky could you let me know if y’all want me to keep tagging you?
I blame @veliseraptor and @led-lite for this, filling my impressionable head with ideas about Loki wanting to forget and the Grandmaster being all too willing to oblige in the worst possible way. Warning for mind-fuckery and dubious consent and general dubiousness all around.
burn and fade
"I wonder," the Grandmaster looked Loki up and down approvingly. "How is it I came to be so blessed with your loveliness?"
Loki offered him a bright, false smile. "Just lucky, I guess." Or, he thought, you can thank Hela. The thought of her name brought with a tidal wave of memories and emotions. Finding Odin. Odin dying. Thor returning. Thor gone. Finding peace on Asgard. Landing in a heap of trash on Sakaar. A lifetime ripped away in a moment. It was all Loki could do to keep himself upright and smiling when he wanted to curl up in a ball and scream until his voice gave out.
The Grandmaster gave him a look that said he saw through him. "Something more, I think." He shook a mocking finger at Loki. "Someone's not telling me the truth. But that's all right. I can be very forgiving. You can keep your secrets."
I don't want them. Make it stop.
A slow, satisfied smile crept across the Grandmaster's face.
* * *
"You're taking advantage of me."
The Grandmaster chortled at that. His fingers skimmed lightly across Loki's bare hip. Music pounded around them. People and motion and noise everywhere. But when the Grandmaster's attention focused on Loki, everything else fell away. Just the two of them. Their own little oasis amidst the chaos.
"Advantage? Is that so?"
"Yes."
"Are you sure?" the Grandmaster smiled. Fingers drifting up Loki's body to settle along his jaw. "Is it taking advantage when you want it? When you beg me to take care of you?
"I did no such thing," Loki said.
"Are you sure?" the Grandmaster repeated with a little laugh. The fingers came up to Loki's temple, circling in a small motion.
"I...," Loki felt woozy suddenly. Mind setting adrift. He reached out to grasp at his host, worried about falling even though he was already lying down. His mind clouded and Loki blinked once. Twice. Stared at the man who was eyeing him with amusement.
"How did I get here?" Loki asked.
“There, there,” the Grandmaster smiled as he pulled Loki into an embrace, patting his hair soothingly. “It’s all right. I’ll take care of you.”
Loki clung to him even as his thoughts whispered something was wrong.
* * *
"Sometimes," Loki could hear the slur in his voice. A small, panicked voice in the back of his mind knew what was happening, screamed its objection. He cleared his throat and tried again, as if it would help. "Sometimes, I wish I could forget." The words still slurred.
"Oh?" came a soft voice, oozing sympathy. The voice was attached to the hands touching him, Loki was sure. The same voice that offered him a glass of sweet liqueur, urging him to drink up.
"Yes," Loki said, trying to shake free the growing fuzziness in his head. "It would be nice to not think. About everything. For a while." Just a little break. From remembering. From the crushing weight of death and destruction and all that was lost.
Thor. Odin. Asgard. Loki squeezed his eyes shut and tried not to think of them.
"Hmm," the soft voice considered this. Hands still in motion over Loki's bare skin. Loki wondered what happened to his clothes. He didn't remember taking them off. "That might be arranged."
No, the small voice grew dimmer and dimmer before washing away in darkness.
* * *
"What is this?" Loki sniffed at the concoction he was handed. Sweetness and something...familiar. He couldn't remember.
The Grandmaster waved a dismissive hand. "Just a little pick-me-up. My own personal recipe."
Loki gave the glass a dubious look. "For what purpose?"
The Grandmaster laughed. He plucked the glass out of Loki's hand and took a sip, smacking his lips afterwards. "Yum!" He held the glass out for Loki to take back. "Energy. Stamina. You name it. Helps to get you back to full power after our little soiree last night. And gets you ramped up for the one later today," he said with a wink. "Bottom's up."
All Loki remembered of the previous night were hands, and bodies, on him. In him. Waking up confused and sore and alone and a faint voice in his head urging him to run. Before the Grandmaster swanned into the room and began fussing over him.
The hand holding the drink under his nose didn't waver. Loki took the glass back and tipped its contents back in a single motion. As he swallowed it down, he felt the Grandmaster's fingertips settle on his temple. Gone was the manic, affable affectation. In its place was a creature of old, still and terrifying.
"Good boy," the Grandmaster whispered as his fingers danced across Loki's mind.
Loki wanted to vomit up the liquid he'd just drunk. As soon as the urge rose up, it faded away along with the memory of having thought it. He swayed on his feet before a strong hand wrapped around his upper arm. The Grandmaster was smiling again.
"So," he said. "I did promise you that tour. Let's get on it!"
Loki smiled back easily. "Sounds wonderful."
* * *
"So," the Grandmaster looked away from the game he was playing to where Loki stood alone off the side. "Still feeling taken advantage of?"
"I don't know what you mean," Loki said, wondering if he was being teased. The Grandmaster loved teasing him. Asking him about memories and a life before Sakaar. Loki didn't know why he bothered. His answers were always the same.
Delight danced across the Grandmaster's face. "No, I guess you don't."
Before Loki could ask what he meant, one of the players whooped in triumph. "Point!" The Grandmaster and the rest of the players groaned. The scoring player waited for the Grandmaster to acknowledge him before bounding to his feet and over to Loki. He inspected Loki from top to bottom, front to back while the other watched and waited, before choosing the item of clothing he stripped off Loki.
The group applauded his choice and he returned to the game. The next point would decide the winner, leaving Loki bare and granting the winner the right to celebrate with the game's prize.
The Grandmaster had already lost the game, being too far behind in points. But he would play to the end.
He always loved to watch.
* * *
The party had only barely begun. Everyone was still fully clothed. Loki sat among a small group, chatting and laughing, drink in hand.
The Grandmaster was busy on the other side of the room. Surrounded by his guards and a lone captive. Working. It was a big job running a whole planet. Loki didn't know how he managed it.
"Loki. Loki!"
Loki looked up at the sound of his name. The captive the Grandmaster was dealing with was calling him. Loki set aside his drink and crossed the room. The man's face brightened and he smiled, happy to see Loki coming closer. The Grandmaster noticed Loki's approach and beckoned him to stand by him. Loki adjusted his path to go to him and the captive's face immediately dimmed.
"Well, I can't help but notice a little something, something there," the Grandmaster laughed. He pulled Loki closer, laughing again at the stormy look that crossed the blond man's face. "Tell me," the Grandmaster said, curling an arm around Loki's waist. "You know this, uh, this...you call yourself the Lord of Thunder?"
"God of Thunder," the man said. He stared at Loki intently. "Tell him."
Loki laughed in disbelief at this stranger's gall. "I've never met this man in my life."
An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Relationships: Loki & Thor (Marvel)
Additional Tags: Post-Thor: Ragnarok (2017), Alternate Universe - Future, Thor Is a Good Bro, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Has Issues, Brother Feels, Frigga (Marvel) Feels, Grief/Mourning
Series: Part 1 of Asgardia
Summary: After they've found their new home, it's a time to say farewell to the old one. But Loki finds it hard to say goodbye.
Note: Yeah, that last bit of Ragnarok thing didn’t happen. Infinity war definitely not. Because these bbs deserve same happiness!
Odin is dead. He’s gone and Loki just can’t wrap his mind around that. The Trickster holds his hand up, as if he’s trying to catch tiny sparkles of golden light, but his fingers go through the thin air.
The All-father’s gone. It’s strange: he would have thought he’d feel better that the old bastard is finally dead and he’s free: he can go wherever he chooses. Do whatever he wants. Thor…
Thor can’t stop him. Can’t cage him. Oh, golden Thor. He’s so predictable: Loki can wrap him around his little finger anytime he wants. Thor still loves him..
The unexpected clash of lightning stop him mid-thought. Loki looks up: Thor’s looming over him. Close. Too close. He smells of ozone. Eyes dark, full of venom.
‘’This is your fault!’’ he hisses and Loki almost laughs because of course he is the one to blame here, because of course he should have seen this coming..
And, yet, he did not.
Loki looks at him looking for something, anything he can hold on to, but there is nothing to see: Thunderer’s eyes are dark and sparkles are dancing on his hammer, reaching for the handle, for his fingers, seeping under his brother’s skin…
‘’Thor…’’ Loki croaks and his voice, damn it, betrays him. ‘’Brother..’’
The blow lands fast. Way too fast and Loki is thrown back, on the ground covered in soft, green grass and it should not hurt but somehow.. It does.
‘’It’s your fault!’’ Thor yells at him. Loki rushes quickly to his feet and draws his favorite pair of daggers from extradimensional pocket and braces himself. He still can talk his way out of this one. Of course he can. He ducks easily and dodges the first attack of Mjolnir, makes a catwheel and lands gracefully back on his feet.
Thor launches at him. Loki jumps back and crosses his daggers to block the blow. ‘’My fault?’’ he shouts back. ‘’How, exactly,prey tell am I to blame? You will always find a blame with me, won’t you Odinson? Just like he did. Like father like son, I suppose?’’
Thor roars and swings his weapon and loki can’t help but laugh because it too funny - Thor, waving around a black umbrella, totally forgetting how his mighty hammer looks now. For couple of seconds, Loki considers leaving it this way, but then again - He needs his armor back - even though it would not be much help if Thor really decided to bring him down.
The green glow washes over them and the moment Thor raises umbrella to bring down the lightning. The thunder cracks the sky open, clashes to the ground and leaves a brunt trail on its wake. Loki staggers back and raises daggers instinctively - knowing it’s futile, but still raises his hand over head protectively…
..And freezes.
His fingers turn blue. The color begins spreading fast and by the time Loki’s body remembers how to respond to his mind’s wishes, his hands are all in the cursed color and if the Trickster had to guess, he’d say, his face is too.
Loki drops the daggers - as if they’re to blame and tried desperately to do something, change back, come on! His magic responds, swift and steady and covers up the disgusting color, but after a second, the spell breaks again and blue seeps onto his hands again and it makes no sense, why would it not work, it has been working all his life, the glamour, since he was but a babe, it was working just fine…
And then it hits him - he did not create the spell. Sure, he used energy maintaining it but it was Odin who cast it and once the caster dies…
Loki laughs: it’s a dry, humourless laugh, nearing hysteria. Of all the ways he imagined Thor would see him, this must be worst of them: in the middle of the battle between them.
And he knows it’s over. Of course, he could try to talk his way out of this one, but Loki’s not stupid.
He knows when to quit.
He knows a lost battle before the end.
He knows that this time, nothing will save him.
Loki hangs his head low and waits for the blow he know will come. His knees buckle underneath and the irony of his, kneeling in front of the new king of Asgard is not lost on Trickster.
The king is dead, long live the king…
The sight of his brother giving up gives Thor a pause. Loki does not give up. He keeps fighting. No matter what it takes. He’ll try and try to fight or talk his way out. That’s who he is.
‘’Loki?’’ he says. His voice holds many things: caution? Yes. a bit of anger? Maybe. Curiousity? Some of that too.
Loki gives him no answer. Thor takes a step forward, not knowing if he should apologize; he does feel a bit guilty, but truth be told, Loki did stage his own death and he put Odin on Midgard and left him there, while the Odinforce left him.. Not like he’s innocent, but this… Scene… of him just giving up, accepting the fate…
Thor takes step forward, Mjolnir touches Loki’s chest. Loki’s shoulders slump in defeat
‘’Why?’’ Thor asks. ‘’Why did you do it?’’
‘’Brother dear, you have to be a bit more specific.’’ Loki snaps back.
‘’Why did you lie to me? I thought you dead, again, Loki! I mourned you. Do you truly care nothing for that?’’
The Trickster chuckles. ‘’Why, because I was ALIVE and had a silly little wish to stay that way. Unfortunately, it was not to be. Now, get on with it!’’
Thor does not move. That damned oaf probably still does not want to kill him.
’What are you waiting for?’’ Loki asks raising his head and looking at him with crimson eyes.
Thor freezes.
‘’Well?’’ Loki says, his voice way calmer than it has any right to be. Unnaturally so. ‘’You need but one swing. It’s not hard I figure, or is it?’’
‘’What..’’ Mjolnir drops from Thor’s hand with a low thud and his the ground.
‘’Loki..’’ his voice is barely above a whisper as he kneels down beside him. ‘’What has happened to you?’’
‘’Oh, don’t pretend like you’re surprised, The All-father’s dead. The glamour is lifted, I’m left only with my birth form. If anything, you should be thankful - this must have made things so much easier for you’’ the Trickster mocks.
Thor’s eyes widen comically and Loki realizes that maybe, just maybe, Odin did not tell him…
And, suddenly, he’s ashamed. And angry. And he does not even know why he feels either of those things. Curse Thor, for his naivety and Odin, for his cruel schemes, calling him son before death, knowing that the second he was gone, Loki was as good as dead. Knowing that he was making his (short thereafter) life a hel, but not caring enough to warn him..
All these thoughts are crushed when Thor suddenly, wraps his huge arms around him and Loki’s just to dumbstruck to react, pull away or do anything..
‘’Oh, Loki,’’ Thor chants. ‘’I’m sorry. I know not of this. Please, believe me brother, If he had told me..’’ And if that’s not just too confusing Loki does not know what is. Thor, who swore to kill all the frost giants, apologizing to him? Thor seeing his true, monstrous nature and not feeling disgusted with him? It does not make sense. ‘’I should have figured. I should have known. That play… you… he really adopted you after the war, didn’t he?’’
‘’Thor..’’ Loki finds his voice at last. ‘’Let go.’’
Thor shakes his head silently.
‘’Thor..’’ Loki tries again. ‘I’m a monster. I’ll hurt you. ’I’ll burn you. You have to stay away.’’
Thor chuckles and shakes his head again.
Loki trashes to get away, cause he can’t its too much, too much warmth, Thor is too close, he can take no more if this..
‘’Stop shaking your head, fuckin moron!’’ he snaps. ‘’What ever is wrong with you? You’re supposed to be angry. You’re supposed to be swinging your hammer at me! Let me go!’’
Thor hums and pets his raven hair, put his hand on npe og his brother’s neck and whispers.
‘’Be, still. I’ve got you, Loki.’’
And Loki, after some seconds of useless struggle, relaxes, clsoes his eyes and breathes in.
Thor smells of ozone and storm.
Couple of wet drops fall on Thor’s hand and Loki would like to blame it on rain, on wind, anything except what they actually are - result of treachery of his own crimson eyes.
Seconds later, he feels wetness on his hair and forehead and maybe, he thinks, not only his eyes are in treacherous mood today.
Then the thunder booms above them and raindrops hit the grass.
And Loki is just too grateful to say anything about this.
Luckily, he does not have to speak.
Neither of brothers see a portal appearing behind them.
Warnings: Blood, takes place just after a traumatic event, a few death mentions and jokes about dying, swearing
Word Count: 1,532 (I’m trying to keep the chapters relatively short so I can get them out on a regular basis)
Author’s Note: This has been a long time in the works. I’m kind of emotional sharing it, but don’t mind me. Welcome, and enjoy!
Generally, when your best friend shows up at your door, you don’t want them to be covered in blood. With this in mind, you can imagine that Logan was not entirely pleased when his best (and only) friend appeared exactly as such.
Up until that point, it had been your average apocalyptic Tuesday. Logan had been following his to-do list, which was most likely the only thing keeping him sane on his own. His family had decided to follow the theory most widespread on the internet and split up. If there weren’t so many humans in one place, maybe all the monsters wouldn’t notice them. This theory wasn’t scientifically proven, but then again, neither were any of the others. Scientists didn’t exactly have the… resources required to perform such experiments, and, because all of the mail had been shut down, they couldn’t keep accurate records of who lived, who died, or how. But with the internet mostly still up and running the Ateneos had scraped up the data from the most reliable resources they could find and run with it. Literally.
Logan’s father took his little sister Mercedes about a few thousand miles Northwest, his mother had taken Logan’s abuelo South, and last he’d heard they were still moving until they found someplace safe to settle for a while. Logan had been left to look after their little house. His family had figured they were going to give him a little more independence when he turned seventeen anyways. Odd how such things tend to work out. The airlines shut down the day after his birthday, so his family had stayed until the last moment they could, which ended up being around 10:47 a.m. and left him there. Alone. But it was okay, because Logan had his log and his to-do list.
Tuesday, July 2nd: To Do
Wake up (approximately 6 am)
Eat breakfast (1 slice of toast, 1 egg)
Read (at least 2 chapters, no more than 4 chapters)
Call Mami (remember to ask about her whereabouts, location apps still down)
Eat lunch (one serving, no matter what)
Paint (use moderation)
Send Mercedes a picture (yourself and/or the painting) and make sure her mental state isn’t suffering too much
Update Log
Check in with Patton (via text, see if he can come over tomorrow)
Practice Archery (set the net up first so you don’t lose arrows, be alert and aware of your surroundings)
Eat dinner (again, one serving exactly)
Research/practice knife techniques
Go to bed (approximately 10 pm, no bluelight after 9:30)
This had been going perfectly right up until it hadn’t. He’d gotten out the bread and peanut butter and had the raspberry jelly in his hand when a quick, loud knocking interrupted his lunch preparations. He held the jelly jar at an angle from which it could be easily used as a weapon and warily unlocked and opened the door.
That is when Logan Ateneo found what appeared to be his best friend splattered with something red that was most certainly not his beloved Crofters.
“Patton?” he asked warily. His friend’s eyes and smile were just a bit too wide and his skin was a bit too pale.
“Uhh..Last summer we rode the ferris wheel, I asked you what a cephalopod was and you told me all about them. When we were at the top you almost dropped your phone showing me a video of a mimic octopus.”
Logan didn’t have the best memory and Patton was speaking irregularly fast, but the absolute terror of his precious cell phone dancing nearly out of his grasp over a 213 foot drop, as well as the opportunity to talk about his beloved cephalopods had burned the incident into his mind. He stepped aside and let Patton in. One day Logan was sure he was going to wholeheartedly believe his friend was a shapeshifter or the other way around because his memory was such absolute garbage. That was how he would die. He opened his mouth to ask about… well, about a lot of things, but Pat spoke before he got the chance.
“I’m really out of it, and I can’t tell if I’m about to cry or puke but oh lord, one or the other is coming so I’m gonna try to get this all out before it happens. Okay? Okay. So I think maybe zombies or like, beta mer-zombies just attacked my house, I have no freaking clue where most of my family is, I’m like 90% positive they’re coming this way next, uhh I’m pretty sure you can drive and I can’t, and we gotta get out of here.”
Logan took a moment to mentally unpack all of that.
“Wait, the zombie creatures are coming now? As in at this exact moment?”
“Pretty sure”
“Then could you please explain why we’re still standing here?” Before waiting for an answer, Logan grabbed his dopey friend by the arm, making a mental note to figure out why he was acting this way later, and pulled him along as they ran to the car.
He couldn’t see anything as he rushed past, but he wasn’t taking any chances. He shoved Patton haphazardly into the passenger’s side before nearly breaking his own leg slamming the door as he slid into the driver’s seat. He reached over and buckled Patton’s seatbelt after his own as his friend stayed frozen in place. A distant growl made the hair on the back of Logan’s neck stand up. He hit the gas and everything from there was more or less a blur.
***
It wasn’t until they were on the highway that Logan calmed down a little and Patton brought up an excellent question.
“Hey Lo… Where are we going?”
Logan hadn’t thought that far ahead. He didn’t dare pull over but he let himself drop his laser focus for a moment to think about the answer. He was silent for a while. Then, a very… interesting idea came to mind.
“My uncle’s cabin in the woods.”
“That sounds like we’re gonna die.”
“Odds are, we’re going to die anyways. I am entirely serious. It’s out in the middle of nowhere, fairly distant, there are plenty of resources in a pinch, my uncle left a long time ago, and the last person there was his ex, who dropped off the map a few months ago.”
“You do realize how ominous that is, right?”
“Do you keep in touch with your relatives’ ex-boyfriends?”
“Eh….” It was clear Patton had drifted off again. Logan switched lanes to head towards the cabin, but his mind was working much faster, trying to figure out if Patton had some kind of rune cast on him, or if he’d perhaps suffered head trauma, or-
“Oh. I see.” Logan realized. He waited a moment for a response. His friend continued to stare out the car window, his fingers twitching in half-minded fidgets. “Pat?”
“What?”
“You’re in shock.”
“Huh. Wait-I thought…” The gears started turning in his head, “I thought you got that from wearing socks on the carpet…”
Patton then proceeded to burst into tears.
With the reading Logan had done on psychological shock, that was to be expected, as all of Patton’s emotions that he’d disconnected from had come flooding back with the realization. This information did not, however, give Logan an adequate way to deal with the situation.
He settled for awkwardly patting his friend’s hand and respectfully looking away.
***
Patton’s crying slowed to a sniffle just as Logan pulled the car from the paved road to a bumpy dirt path. They sat in silence for a while, bouncing over the rocks.
“Are you alright?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t lie to me.”
“Shit happened, I don’t think I can process it right now.”
This caused Logan more concern than the crying. Patton only swore when he really didn’t feel good.
“Do you want to talk about it?”
Patton didn’t respond.
“Is,” Logan became quieter as he began to realize the severity of what had happened at Patton’s house, “Is everyone okay?”
Patton bit his lip and slowly shook his head. He hesitantly held out his hand, and Logan laced his fingers through Pat’s.
Squeeze.
They stayed like that until the gravel driveway crunched under their wheels. It led to what appeared to be a very nice cabin that had been left to suffer by Nature’s hand. Ivy covered one wall entirely, and had begun creeping across the front and back of the house. Moss crawled over the roof. Logan could spot at least three bird’s nests in various nooks and crannies. And that was just the outside.
Patton stared at it for a moment. Just as Logan thought he was about to remark something about the beauty of nature reclaiming and building upon what humanity had made of it he said,
“How fricking rich was your uncle? This thing is huge.”
Logan had just opened his mouth to respond when a howl swept through the trees, sending a shiver through his entire body.
“Perhaps, discussing things inside would be better?”
“I always have wanted to die in a cabin in the woods!”
Relationships: Platonic analogical, Mentioned romantic logicality (at least from Logan’s pining)
Word Count: 952
Author’s Note: This is either the best or worst one yet and I’m so sleep deprived I can’t tell
Logan couldn’t sleep. This wasn’t an uncommon occurrence as his rather unfortunate skull was filled with a rather unfortunately large number of thoughts. He couldn’t lay still and wait for the thoughts to pass, he had to move until he pushed through them. If he weren’t constrained by silly little things like “day” and “night” he wouldn’t have to worry. Time, of course, is an illusion, but considering the four other people in the house Logan could no longer operate on his own lack of schedule.
It really was incredible that there were four other people. He could almost feel they’re individual presences around him, although none of them were in the same room. He may have known Patton the longest, but somehow the new additions felt just as familiar, if a little overwhelming. Logan tried to think over the details of his friends (if he could call them that), as at least repeating something he’d already thought over and over should help him sleep...
It was no use. The sheets were too hot, but when Logan moved the rest of the bed was too cold. He just kept shifting and turning, trying in vain to find the One Perfect Spot. This physical discomfort, in truth, barely existed, but his brain just kept blabbering on and it was so loud he couldn’t contain it. At the very least he could get up and make some kind of hot drink.
Logan slid out of bed, his fluffy socks slipping silently onto the wood floor. He shifted his weight back and forth a little, feeling and focusing on the pleasant texture of his favorite garments. It was silly, but a little good feeling like that could flood through his ever-whirring mind and drown out some of the thoughts trying so desperately to be in full possession of his attention. An impossible feat, Logan smiled resignedly.
He’d learned long ago that it was a blessed rarity for just one thing to hold his full attention without it tumbling out of it’s grasp like grains of sand. Not that it was any one person or topic’s fault, but whatever he was hearing or reading would get muted by the roaring hurricane already twisting inside.
It could be seen as sad, but for Logan that was just how he lived. His Mami had called it “the balance for that incredible mind you’ve been given” and Mercedes said it was “how god nerfed him”. Neither were inaccurate to his knowledge, but it didn’t explain how this wouldn’t be a problem if those pesky societal expectations weren’t keeping him from doing this exactly his way.
Now, Logan mulled over all of this while going down the stairs, carefully skipping the step third to the bottom (it squeaked something awful) and shuffling his way to the kitchen.
He opened the fridge to pull out the milk, but was interrupted by the quiet squeaking of the couch from the adjoined room, as eyes appeared just over the cushion.
“Lo?” Virgil asked into the dark.
“Virgil? What are you doing up?”
“I could ask you the same.”
Logan gestured to the milk.
“Oh.”
Silence for a moment.
“You still haven’t answered though.”
“...Aw, damn, I was hoping you’d’ve forgotten that bit.” Virgil sank back into the cushions as Logan circled to sit beside him on the couch, all notion of warm milk forgotten. Virgil’s knees were tucked up under his hoodie, until he was just a purple-patched ball with dark eyes peeking out from behind darker bangs.
“I, er, don’t tend to sleep very much. Anxiety and all that. I just like it better out here.” Virgil waited a moment, tense. He looked like he thought Logan was about to scold him. Instead he just scooched closer to the smaller boy, extending a wordless invitation for Virgil to use him as a pillow.
Just as Logan was about to open his mouth to add a verbal aspect to the offer, Virgil leaned into him comfortably, fitting neatly at his side.
They stayed like that for a while. Neither came any closer to sleep. Neither wanted to move. Logan allowed himself to indulge in his own mind, while Virgil allowed himself to escape his. Eventually Logan mustered the courage to bring up something that had been on his mind a while. An anchor amongst the changing waves of thought. However frightening and dangerous it may be, it was consistent.
“Virgil, I consider you a friend.”
“Mhm.”
“I would even call you a close friend.”
“Same to you, mate.”
“It’s… been a while since I’ve had more than one close friend. Other than Pat I mean. I kind of lost track of what it felt like to be good friends with someone.”
“But I thought you said you and Pat were close friends?”
“We were! I mean, I feel close to Patton… I have since we first became friends. It’s just that he became my only point of reference and now everything makes a lot, or, it makes more sense.” Logan began to stumble over his words. Talking over his exact feelings was… foreign to say the least.
“Ooooh, I think I see where this is going.”
“Well, I like you, as a friend I mean, and I guess I just sort of suddenly realized that I don’t like Patton the same way.”
“You like like him.” Virgil smiled.
“Are you making fun of me?” Logan jumped to defend himself.
“No, no, I just think you’d be cute.” Oh. Wait, what? Was that Virgil’s honest response? Actually, it was a little relieving that he didn’t make a big deal out of it. Just one more thing.
