#darth writes

triggers: food mention/food, cursing, some logan angst at the end

Age - 13

Logan’s alarm blared, phone buzzing on the old bookshelf that he kept in his room. His hand fumbled around for the phone, turning the alarm off before groaning into his pillow. 

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with bleary eyes, barely even awake. With a grunt, he sat up and ran a hand down his face before putting his glasses on. 

Reluctantly, he got out of the covers and walked to the bathroom, washing his face. He stared at himself in the mirror for a few moments, noting the bags under his eyes. He made sure not to look at his arms, not even sparing a glance. For him, in the case of soulmates, ignorance was bliss. 

With a sigh, he walked out of the bathroom, his nerves settled enough for him to be ready to start his day.

That was, until his mother swept him up into a hug, peppering kisses all over his face. 

“My baby boy is all grown up! 13! God, soon you’ll be taller than me and driving and-”

“Mama!” Logan exclaimed, a grin belaying any exasperation he might have portrayed.

“Sorry, bud! I’m just so excited for you!” she grinned wildly, ruffling his hair and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

“Are you excited enough to not send me to school?” Logan tried, a small smile on his face. Emillia snorted. 

“Nice try, but no. You’re still going.” 

Logan groaned, rolling his eyes. “Worth a shot.”

“Now c’mon!” Emillia exclaimed, ignoring that last comment. “Eat your breakfast! I made you pancakes, your favorite!” she smiled, walking to the kitchen. Logan followed behind her, a smile remaining on his face no matter how hard he tried to get rid of it.

“You didn’t have to,” he mumbled, setting out the plates and cutlery. 

“But I wanted to. Besides, it’s your birthday and I also want pancakes. So, pancakes it is!” she smiled easily, putting the pancakes onto the plates.

Logan laughed, sitting down at the table. “Thanks, Ma.” 

“Anything for the birthday boy,” she kissed the top of his head, sitting down as well. Logan grumbled slightly, fixing his hair, flushing slightly from embarrassment. 

Wisely, neither of the two brought up the topic about soulmates, or how he was supposed to get one on his 13th birthday. It was a touchy topic for them, one of the few times the two had argued. As such, it was better off going unmentioned. 

“Do you know what you wanna do today? Besides school, of course,” Emillia grinned playfully.

Logan rolled his eyes but answered anyway, “Um, no not really. I have soccer practice today so I’ll probably come home later than usual. Besides that,” he shrugged, eyes looking down at his plate.

Emillia raised an eyebrow, always able to tell when Logan was hiding something. “Are you sure?” she pressed.

“I—um, well, I kinda wanted to go to that arcade we used to go to,” Logan mumbled, stabbing a piece of pancake with his fork. “Only if it’s not a bother, though,” he added, fingers drumming against the table. Emillia’s smile faltered, hating to see her son so insecure over just wanting something.

“Of course we can! We’ll go right after I get back from work. That sound good?” she recovered her smile, eyes crinkling at the corners.

Logan nodded, a faint smile playing at his lips. “Tha’ sounths good,” Logan replied through a mouthful of pancake.

Emillia snorted, “Okay, now hurry up if you don’t wanna be late for school.”

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Logan fumbled with his apartment keys, managing to unlock the door and walk inside. He took off his cleats and set his bag down, running a hand through his hair as he looked around the apartment. 

After momentarily debating what to do, he ultimately settled on taking a shower. He trudged off towards the bathroom wearily, muscles sore. 

As he showered, Logan made sure not to stare at his arms more than he needed to, afraid of what he would see. Afterwards, now wearing fresh clothes, he sat at the dining table as he did his schoolwork, pencil tapping against the wood as he thought. 

At around 5:23, his mom arrived home, having been able to get off work early. Her face lit up with a warm smile when she saw her son. 

“Hey, birthday boy! You ready to go?” 

Logan nodded, a smile of his own forming. “Yeah, Ma. I just gotta put my shoes on.”

Emillia clapped her hands together excitedly, “Alright, we’ll go in a minute! I just gotta change real quick.” 

During the time she was gone, Logan slipped on his shoes and jacket, sitting on the couch as he waited for his mom. After a few minutes, his mom walked out, now dressed in casual clothes.

“You ready?” she asked once more, a huge smile on her face, showing off her dimples. Logan nodded as he stood up, slipping the outdated phone into his pocket. 

“Let’s go then!” she waved a hand for him to follow, both of them walking out of the apartment door. 

Instead of driving to the arcade, they simply walked, passing the time with mindless chatter, punctuated by laughter. Eventually, they reached the mall where the old arcade was located and walked in, Logan shoving his hands into his pockets as he looked nervous at the crowds that were present even in the evening.

However, all of his fears soon melted away as he and his mother walked into the arcade, his eyes lighting up and a grin forming on his face. He looked up at his mother, silently thanking her with his eyes. 

She laughed gently and tugged his hand slightly. “C’mon, I’m gonna kick your ass at pac-man. I mean—“

Logan laughed at her slip-up, his chipped tooth on full display. His mother smiled, gazing around at the arcade.

“You coming?” she teased him gently. 

“You can bet your ass I am,” Logan grinned.

“Logan!”

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Logan collapsed onto his bed, a permanent smile etched onto his face. He sighed contentedly, stretching his arms out. He felt a faint tingling on his arm and without thinking, he turned his head to look at it, wearing a ratty old t-shirt and shorts for pajamas. 

And that smile on his face faded as he was met with colorful sentences staring right back at him.

"Am I a bad person, Logan?" Virgil finally blurted out from his position on the floor, shoulders slumped.

Logan looked over at him, raising an eyebrow. "'Course not, Virge. What makes you think that?" he asked.

"It's just--I've done bad things before, y'know? I've...I've hurt people. Scared them. Made them fear me. And it's just...not sitting right with me. It's like it's all coming back to me at once and it's overwhelming."

Logan looked at him sympathetically. "Virgil, just because you've done bad things before doesn't mean you're a bad person."

"But how do you know that, Logan! I've done such shitty stuff before and I feel like it--reflects...on me..." Virgil laid his head in his hands, letting out a long sigh. "Virgil, I know you aren't a bad person because I know you. You, Virgil Gyles Bronte, are a good person."

"I just--gah! It's so fucking hard to explain. I feel scummy. I feel like shit. I've hurt innocents. I made people fucking terrified of me. So much other just...awful shit. So how in the world am I a good person?" Virgil threw his hands up, his back now resting against the wall.

"Virgil. Something that you need to understand is that sometimes you do bad things. Things you regret. But just because you've done bad things does not make you a bad person. I have done bad stuff. Things I deeply regret. Would you say I'm a bad person?”

"What? No! Of course not!"

"Then why are you any different?"

Virgil sat in stunned silence for a few moments before weakly replying, "Because...it's...me."

Logan sat up from his chair and sat down next to Virgil, simply offering his comfort while respecting Virgil's boundaries. "The truth is, Virge, is that there isn't much of a difference. The only real difference is your self-esteem and your mindset. Those two factors are affecting your rationality and clouding it. But you need to remember it's not true. Not in the slightest. You're a good person. All of us, this team, are good people. We've all struggled with this too. But now we're going to help you with it. You aren't going to suffer alone."

Virgil gave Logan a long look, the latter knowing that they were trying to see if Logan was truly genuine. Finally, they decided he was and slumped back even more. "How do you know I'm going to get better?" he asked quietly.

Logan rested his head against the wall, a small smile on his lips. "Because we're your friends. And friends don't give up on each other. No matter what."

It was one of those days. The days when he didn’t feel like doing anything. Winter was already bad enough, considering his asthma, but when you stacked on his seasonal depression, it made it practically hell.

Patton laid in his bed, staring at the ceiling blankly. He didn’t feel like getting up, or even sitting up for that matter. Some days, his seasonal depression wasn’t as bad. Those days he could move around more, maybe even exercise. He didn’t feel as sluggish. And then there were days when it hit full force. With these types of days, he didn’t feel like he could even move, much less talk. This was one of those.

He heard the door creak slightly as it was swung open, but he didn’t bother looking over, already knowing who it was.

“Hey, Pat,” Roman said softly, smiling lopsidedly. “I got you some salad. I know, not a breakfast food, but it should help. I also brought you your antidepressants.”

Patton just made a noise in the back of his throat as thanks, not having enough energy to talk. Roman sighed slightly, setting the pills and the bowl of salad down before crouching down to the bed height. 

“Can you sit up for me, Pat? You gotta eat.”

Patton managed to shake his head no. Roman looked at him before seeming to come to a decision. 

“Do you want me to help you sit up?” he asked gently. Patton considered it for a moment before nodding his head.

“Alright, here we go,” Roman slid his hand under Patton’s back and set one hand on his chest, propping him up into a sitting position. Patton just stared desolately at the floor, frustration welling up inside of him, yet unable to do anything to release it. It was just there, simmering right under the surface.

Patton held his hands out limply, Roman getting the message and placing the bowl and fork in his hands. He stabbed it weakly, staring at it before lifting the fork to his mouth and chewing it blankly. Roman watched him eat the salad, shoulders slumped slightly. It was going to be a long day for both of them.

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Patton stared out the window, watching flakes of snow fall onto the ground. He remembered how he used to love winter when he was younger. He and his siblings loved playing in the snow, along with stuffing the snow down each other’s necks. Patton also remembered how they made snowmen that very much did not look like snowmen, more like goblins. A faint smile touched his face at that memory before fading just as quickly as it appeared.

He also remembered, quite vividly, the day when he first had seasonal depression. It was rather hard to forget after all. He was 17, waking up to a rather mundane morning. He just felt...sluggish. Lethargic. Apathetic, even. And he just sat there on his bed. The world wasn’t grey. It wasn’t black and white. It looked normal. But, he didn’t feel normal. The world wasn’t bleak, but he himself was.

His family was understandably concerned by this behavior. Or rather, the lack thereof. After a few hours to see if it would just...go away, they eventually took him to the doctor. The doctor eventually diagnosed him with depression. 

Except, the depression symptoms only happened around fall and winter. His family was more than a little puzzled, and very concerned. They took him to the same doctor again a year later, where the doctor then thought that it might be seasonal depression. They explained the whole spiel to Patton’s family, along with how to deal with it.

It was a shock for them. They were so uncertain about it, but they tried to deal with it. They always made Patton sit in the sunniest spots, made him exercise when he could, a good diet with leafy greens.

Not unlike now, Patton thought wryly. Patton’s inner monologue was interrupted by Roman opening the door and walking in. 

“How are you doing?” he asked, sitting down in a chair next to Patton. The latter opened his mouth to try and talk, but only succeeded in making a small noise, not having the energy. He felt that frustration welling up once more, but shoved it aside. He closed his mouth, instead opting for a shrug of his shoulders.

“So I’ll take that as not as bad as the morning, but still sucky?” Roman smiled slightly. Patton nodded, lips twitching upward.

“Well, it’s a start. Do you need anything?” Roman leaned forward, clasping his hands. Patton shook his head no, looking back outside, shoulders slumping. Roman sighed, moving to get up to do the household chores before a thought came to Pat. 

He swiveled in his chair to face Roman, lifting his arms up to sign something. 

Journal? he signed haltingly. Roman smiled and nodded, moving to Patton’s nightstand and grabbing it, along with a pencil. He set it on Patton’s desk. 

“There you go, Breezy.”

Patton rolled his eyes, making a slight shooing gesture to Roman. He snorted, bowing dramatically before walking out, quietly closing the door behind him. 

Patton turned back to the desk, grabbing the pencil and flipping open the journal. His therapist had recommended writing his thoughts in a journal or diary, specifically his negative emotions. He did this now, pressing the graphite hard into the paper as he wrote, releasing pent up frustration. There were slight gouges now in the paper, but he felt a bit better. A bit lighter.

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Roman flicked off the light in Patton’s room, now immersed in total darkness. He managed to make out the lump on the bed that was Patton himself and a smile touched the corner of his mouth.

Dealing with this was hard. And it was hard for Roman to not be able to do much for his friend other than offer his support and help. It was an internal matter for Patton, one he couldn’t just fight and defeat physically. And he knew it was hard for Patton. To wake up and to feel lethargic. Not even having enough energy to get up. To have this bleak mindset.

But they could deal with it. They would deal with it. They picked each other up when they fell down and lifted the other up to soar high when they felt low. 

And they always would, no matter what.

trigger warnings: bullying (sorta? it’s mostly implied. logan’s also hiding it, not well tho lmao) i think that’s it. please tell me if i need to add anything!!

this is one part of the prologue so it’s not even the full prologue so keep that in mind lol

The boy clutched the straps of his backpack, looking down at his shoes. He didn’t look up until he heard a voice calling his name.

“-gan! Logan! Bud, over here!”

Logan looked up, a smile slowly spreading over his face as he saw his mother. He started speed-walking towards her. 

“Bye, Logan! Have a great day!” he heard his 2nd grade teacher call out behind him.

“Bye, Mr. Keller. You too,” he said absently, already half-running towards his mom. 

His mom crouched down to his height, engulfing him in a hug. “Hey, bud. How was your day?” she held him out at arms length to look at him. 

“It was, um, really good!” he grinned widely, showing off his chipped tooth. Emillia’s expression instantly transformed into a concerned one.

“How did you get it? Are you okay? Are you hurt?” she held his jaw gently and moved his head from side to side, inspecting the chipped tooth.

“I’m fine. It doesn’t-doesn’t, um, hurt,” Logan stuttered slightly, looking back down at his shoes.

“How’d you get it?” she repeated, a worried look in her eyes. Logan stayed silent for a moment before answering.

“I was just--I was like drinking from the water fountain. Cause-cause I was thirsty and then I, uh, I don’t know what really happened. I was just drinking and then suddenly I hit my mouth against the...the um…” Logan struggled to find the word that he was looking for, “The thing that you drink out of,” the 7 year old looked up at his mom, the latter nodded, motioning for him to continue. 

“And I look down and I see that part of my--my tooth is just lying there and I-I kinda freaked out a bit,” Logan chewed his lip, rubbing his arm.

“And I’m guessing you told a teacher?” his mother asked gently. Logan nodded furiously, so much that Emillia was worried his head would fall off. 

“Okay, then. I’m proud of you for doing that, alright bud?” she smiled, brushing a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes. “How about we go get some lunch to make up for this bad day, yeah?”

“It wasn’t bad,” Logan protested, “It was just...not...good…” he trailed off.

“Lo, buddy. Not good means bad. And you’ve had a bad day. And you know what? That’s okay. We all have bad days and they’re just a part of life. Now how about some lunch, huh?” Emillia grinned.

Age - 13

Logan’s alarm blared, phone buzzing on the old bookshelf that he kept in his room. His hand fumbled around for the phone, turning the alarm off before groaning into his pillow. 

He rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling with bleary eyes, barely even awake. With a grunt, he sat up and ran a hand down his face before putting his glasses on. 

Reluctantly, he got out of the covers and walked to the bathroom, washing his face. He stared at himself in the mirror for a few moments, noting the bags under his eyes. He made sure not to look at his arms, not even sparing a glance. For him, in the case of soulmates, ignorance was bliss.

also emillia my beloved <3

part 2 of the prologue and no the prologue is still not complete

Age - 11

Logan inspected his chipped tooth, groaning inwardly as he thought of the ridiculing he would face for it. He ran a hand through his hair, letting out an audible sigh. 

“Logan, bud, hurry up, please! I don’t want you to be late for your first day!” he heard his mother shout. He glanced one more time at his chipped tooth before walking out of the bathroom.

“I’m not 7 anymore, Mama. You don’t need to call me ‘bud’,” Logan grumbled, green eyes staring directly at the ground. 

His mother smiled, a tinge of sadness in it, “Doesn’t matter what age you are, you’ll always be my little bud.” 

Emillia ruffled her son’s hair, grinning happily now. “And, c’mon! It’s your first day of middle school! Aren’t you excited?”

Logan mumbled something, rubbing his fingers with his thumb, a nervous habit of his. Emillia noticed it and she frowned slightly.

“What’s wrong, Lo? Are you nervous?” she asked gently. Logan nodded wordlessly. “Why?”

“It’s just, um, my...tooth. I don’t wanna be made fun of,” he mumbled. 

“Oh, buddy,” she said softly, eyebrows knitted together. “I’m sure nobody will even notice it. Even then, they won’t care about it. And if anybody makes fun of you for it, tell me, okay?”

“Okay, Mama,” he said quietly. “Okay.”

She kissed his forehead before ruffling his hair, smiling gently. 

“Where’s Papa?” Logan asked suddenly, a thought coming to him. Emillia’s smile became slightly strained.

“Oh, he’s still staying at that motel for some important business, mkay?” she tried to keep a cheery expression, hating to lie to her kid. 

“Oh...I just thought--” Logan stopped himself suddenly, chewing his lip. “Okay.”

“Now let’s get you to school, alright, bud?”

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Logan flopped onto his bed, groaning. His first day was a mess. First, he forgot his locker combination for like 5 minutes. Next, he couldn’t get the dang thing open and ended up late for class. And then, to top it all off, he had noticed a couple of 7th graders pointing at his tooth! Well, he thinks that they were at least.

Logan rolled over onto his back, running a hand down his face. He knew he had said that he would tell his mom if anybody makes fun of his tooth, but he didn’t feel like bothering her. Maybe next time he would, but not now.

"Up for a spar?" he asked.

Patton raised an eyebrow, "And have you chop me in half? No thanks, Ro." "Aw, c'mon. You have wind powers and the sword's blunted! You'll be fine," he grinned once more.

The super huffed out a laugh, "Roman, you sharpen that thing every night. It's nowhere close to being blunted.”

Roman examined the edge of the sword before shrugging, "Well, I won't hurt you if that's what you're worried about. Plus, you have your daggers."

Patton gave him a long suffering look, leaning back in the chair. Roman let out a sigh, muttering something under his breath before speaking louder.

"I can use a wooden one," he finally relented, sheathing his sword inside its scabbard. "Thank you," Patton muttered. "I'll get my wooden daggers as well."

Roman muttered more under his breath, which Patton wisely chose to ignore.

"Alright, fireboy," Patton said, crouching slightly as he held the two wooden daggers in a ready position. "Bring it on." 

Roman swung his wooden sword in tiny circles as to keep his wrist from tiring, along with keeping it fluid. He snorted, "Do your worst, Aang." 

Patton shot a mock glare at him before becoming focused again. "3," they both tensed slightly.

"2," their grips on their weapons tightened for a fraction of a second before relaxing.

"1."

"GO!"

i have one idea and its a bit angsty so im tryna think of some more