OTP Prompt: Voice Reveal?

All Time Lo-Lo

Summary: Logan has a problem…and he has no idea that problem even exists. He thinks it’s something else entirely.

Warnings: crying, depression, poor eating habits, food mention, grief, sadness, blood (sort of), injury/death mention, anxiety

Pairing: Platonic LAMP; bit of a Logicality focus at the end

Tagged: @ziallwarrior @thefallendog @apologieslogan

Notes: I’m sad today and Logan is the easiest side for me to write through so…yeah, this is the end result. It’s pure vent fic so I’m sorry if it’s bad, I’m just not in a great place right now. Anyway, here goes nothing.

He had a routine.

A solid and secure routine. Wake up. Shower. Coffee. Work. Lunch break. Work. Dinner. Read. Sleep. Repeat. His routine was flawless. It kept him organized and efficient, kept everyone balanced and grounded and most importantly, it took up every bit of his time and avoided any potential messy complications.

Then it happened.

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REUNITE THE BABIES NOW WOMAN

oki

commission for @twinou, gifts for @snowkillwhite

(please don’t use this unless you’re given permission to by the commissioner)

Logan is a cruel sort of beautiful. Captivating. Gorgeous. Talkative. Intelligent. He smooths his collar too many times to be considered appropriate. He laughs at jokes you know he doesn’t understand. He makes jokes and the room goes quiet but you laugh so maybe his smile will come back on.

Logan’s gorgeous when he smiles. His eyes shine and the corners of his mouth upturn into something smug, something secretive, and something cocky and delicious. You wonder, late at night, holding onto your pillows, how his smile would feel against your lips if you were to make him laugh mid-kiss.

But Logan is a cruel sort of beautiful in that he’s in another galaxy. He’s another dimension of colour- one with darker palletes, softer voices, quiet typing, and words you cannot begin to comprehend. He’s complex reasoning that goes over your head, 9-5s, and staying home to grade papers. 

God, you wish that wasn’t so alluring. The crackle of a fireplace and gentleness of podcasts floating through his parent’s living room as he taps on a keyboard, eyes fluttering closed with a sleepiness so soft and lovely, you want to bottle it up and gift it to him every Christmas. 

Logan’s the play-it-safe-but-not-unreasonably-so kind of guy. You’re the rush-into-danger-with-your-eyes-closed-and-hands-tied kind of guy. These worlds do not collide. They are separate divine forces of nature that cannot work together. 

Then it’s five in the morning, you’re awake, staring at the fireplace. Holding coffee in your hands, bringing it up to your lips to take a sip. The room’s gone cold. Logan’s laptop sits across from you, cast aside by its owner for the sake of sleep. Logan himself sleeps soundly, smushed into a pillow, glasses on the floor. 

He mumbles something in his sleep about caramel and oxymorons. Then he awakes all at once and asks what you’re doing. You tell him you cannot sleep. He grumbles something and sets aside his glasses. Then, he lays on your lap like a pillow and tells you to rest. 

Throwing your head back against the back of the couch, you curse out the universe for dropping diamonds into your lap and then telling you that you will never be worthy to touch them.

-Christmas Vacation. 

Logan: I hate you with every inch of my being.

Roman: [looks down at Logan] That’s not a lot of inches.

Logan: [tackles him down]

Logan: *sheds a single solitary tear* 

Roman: *protective prince mode activated* 

Roman: Who did it?! Who fucked with my star-spangled muffin?! I’ll kill you! I’ll kill you all!

ummmmmmmmmWHY

1, 21, or 42 with boyf riends? It's totally up to you which one you use, thank you!

(How about A L L. prepare for angst™)

Twin Size Mattress

“You knocked on my door at 1 in the morning, to cuddle?” Michael was standing at his front door, squinting, in a pair of Deadpool boxers. I had gotten them for him at the end of eighth grade, right after he came out to me. They are well loved.

“That’s what I’m leading with, yes.”

“So there’s more.” Michael sighed and turned to walk up the stairs, treading lightly. His mom was a light sleeper. My voice lowered to a whisper as I followed him, pulling the door shut behind me and locking it.

“Yeah. But I don’t wanna talk about that part yet. Right now, we are talking about how cute you look right now, ya big dope.”

“Jeremy, I am highly offended but I am too tired to insult you back so instead I do this.” He slowly gave me the finger before flopping down into the bunk beds he still inexplicably owned. Michael’s an only child.

“I love you too, Mikey.” I curled around him, making sure my feet didn’t touch his. I was not in the mood for a “your feet are too damn cold, jer” exchange right now.

After a few minutes, I broke the silence.

“So. It’s almost the end of summer. I can’t believe we graduated.”

“Graduation was awesome, Jer! We got stoned in my basement.”

“Yeah, Mikey. We sure did. But the point that I’m getting to is that-” I sneezed. “Fuck, Michael when’s the last time you washed your sheets? You know I’m allergic to Footloose.”

“Footloose is allergic to you. She’s the best cat. You cannot compare.”

“I’m not a cat.”

“Yes, but you are a furry.”

“Dang it, Mikey! This is supposed to be serious.” I sat up. “Fuck it, I’m just gonna say it. I leave for college in three hours.”

Michael was silent for a moment.

“Where?” It was more of a statement than a question. I could tell he didn’t wanna hear the answer.

“MIT.”

“Fuck Jer. That’s like 12 hours’ drive.”

“I know. I didn’t wanna tell you unless I got in. I didn’t really even think I would! It’s like crazy competitive and I’m so glad I got in but it means-”

“Don’t you say that… not you!” Michael’s fingernails started digging into his palms, and his eyes were watering.

“Michael, you know what it means. I have to leave, Mikey, I have to go! This is my dream. And I know your dad left when you were little but I’m not-”

I was cut off by Michael slapping me across the face.

“Fuck you, Jeremy Heere! Fuck you and fuck MIT and fuck Cambridge and fuck Massachusetts! Fuck you for leaving me! I thought we were always gonna be a team, Jer? What happened to that?”

“This is hard for me too, Michael! I have to leave everybody behind. You and my dad, and Christine and Brooke are going to college in New York and Rich is going to fucking California and Jake is gonna be in Washington for his internship and just. Fuck, Mikey! I can’t believe I’m even doing this! I can barely afford to go on my scholarship and my dad is working two jobs to help my pay my tuition.“

Michael, by now, had given up on being angry and was a sobbing pile on the floor.

"Fuck, Jer. Please stay. I can’t do this alone. You’re supposed to be my rock. Don’t leave me.” He was begging now, tears rolling from his eyes, which were squeezed shut so he didn’t have to look at me. I didn’t blame him.

“Hey man, I love you, but no fucking way.”I pushed him off my lap and I stood up. I had to go before I changed my mind. I kept my face toward the hall so Michael couldn’t see me crying. When I got to the front door, I paused for a minute with my hand on the frame, wondering if it was worth it.

And then I walked outside.

Chocolate milk

So in like 3rd grade, I was at lunch and this girl takes a carton of chocolate milk and shakes it vigorously for a solid 5 minutes, she then proceeds to open it and the milk explodes out and somehow hits the ceiling. As far as I know, milk shouldn’t do that, science side of tumblr explain.

Rose Red

Summary: Roman finds out that Logan is color blind and decides to do something about it…

Ships: Def a lot of Logince. It can be seen as platonic or romantic, whatever you prefer.

Warnings: Nothing really, it’s mostly sappy and a bit of fluff. (Although there are a few curse words if you’re sensitive to that kind of language) I will admit that I don’t know much about color blindness so forgive me if the fic is a bit inaccurate. In fact, if you see something that’s inaccurate please feel free to tell me, I’d love to learn more about the subject to improve my writing so I don’t repeat my mistakes in future writings.

Word Count: 1764

(So this prompt was created by @untrustworthyglitch and I thought it was super AHH so I decided to write it :3) (another p.s. I’m kind of new at writing fics so SORRY IF IT’S NOT THAT GREAT I REALLY TRIED ;-;)

It was a typical Saturday for Logan. He woke up to the smell of Patton’s cooking and took a seat at the table across from Virgil and Roman. Patton, was, of course, cooking breakfast in the kitchen; Roman was fixated on his phone (taking an endless amount of selfies), and Virgil was hunched over in his chair playing on his 3ds. It was just an ordinary day like any other until…

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