#(roman is reassured but still very sad)

[theetherealbloom]

IF THERE'S NOTHING LEFT - CH.1

Chapter One: Be The Light, When All The Lights Go Out

Summary: You, a skilled healer, are brought to Rome by Senator Gracchus under the pretense of treating gladiators and Roman elites. You work with General Marcus Acacius to fight against the cruel reign of the twin emperors. Through danger and shared hope, your connection becomes a source of strength as you both dream of freeing Rome.

Paring: General Marcus Acacius x F!Reader

Warnings: 18+ Minors DNI, ANGST, Fluff, SMUT, Age-Gap(ish), Ancient Rome, Canon-Typical Violence, Gladiators, Blood, Gore, War, Romance, Politics, Alternate Universe, Eventual SMUT, Slavery, Sexism, Misogyny, Guilt, PTSD, Rebellion, Empires, (Very Light) Strangers-to-Enemies-to-Friends-to-Lovers, Crowds, Shouting, Animals, Duels, Loose Historical Fiction,

Word Count: 5.8k

A/N: I COULDN’T HELP MYSELF… I NEEDED TO START THIS FIC. RRRAAAAAHHHH. Also, Marcus and Lucilla are NOT married in this fic/AU lmao. I might get some terms wrong since I can’t find the complete script yet (pls help) so I'll be editing this as time passes. And I’m like… not a historian so lol. 

Side note: I’m dyslexic and English isn’t my first language! So I apologize in advance for the spelling and/or grammatical errors. As always, reblogs, comments, and likes are always appreciated. Thank you and happy reading!

Song: If There's Nothing Left by NIKI

→ Next Chapter | Series Masterlist | Main Masterlist |

A DAY BEFORE THE RANSACKING OF NUMIDIA

ROME, 200 A.D. — DAY

The air in your clinic was heavy with the metallic tang of blood and the acrid stench of sweat. Shouts and groans from the injured filled the space, their voices blending into a cacophony of pain that would have broken a lesser person. But not you.  

You moved with the precision of a master sculptor, your hands steady as you sutured the gaping wound on a gladiator’s shoulder. Blood seeped into the linen bandages you’d prepared, but you didn’t flinch. Your focus was unshakable, the outside world forgotten as you worked to save the life in front of you.

General Marcus Acacius stood in the shadows of the doorway, his imposing frame unnoticed amidst the chaos. His dark eyes were fixed on you, the healer who had garnered whispers throughout Rome. He had heard of your work, of course—how you treated anyone who came through your doors, from nobles to slaves, without regard for their station. It was rare to see such defiance of societal norms, rarer still to see it done with such quiet grace.  

He watched as you leaned closer to the wounded man, murmuring words of reassurance.  

“Stay still, brave one,” you said softly, your voice low and soothing, cutting through his pain like a balm. “The worst of it is over. You’ll be back in the arena soon enough, though I’d rather you didn’t return at all.”  

The gladiator managed a weak chuckle, wincing as you tied off the last stitch. “You speak as if I have a choice.”  

Your lips curved into a wry smile, though sadness lingered in your eyes. “Perhaps one day you will.”  

Marcus found himself captivated—not just by your skill, but by the quiet authority you wielded in the room. It was rare for him to see someone move with such purpose, commanding respect without ever raising their voice.  

“You risk much, treating slaves and gladiators,” Marcus said, his voice deep and cutting through the din like a blade. 

You didn’t look up, finishing your work before addressing him. “And you risk much, General, entering a place like this.”  

There was no fear in your tone, only a calm defiance that piqued his curiosity. Marcus stepped closer, his boots echoing on the stone floor.

“I’ve seen many healers,” he said, his gaze unwavering. “None with hands as steady as yours. Nor one who speaks so freely.”  

You glanced up at him then, your eyes meeting his with an intensity that momentarily silenced the chaos around you. He was a striking figure, his presence commanding and his face marked by years of war. But it was his eyes that caught you—the deep well of pain and weariness they carried, hidden beneath a veneer of stoicism.  

“Perhaps that’s because most healers know when to hold their tongue,” you replied, arching a brow. “But I’ve found that truth tends to have a healing quality of its own.”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, the ghost of a smile. “And yet, truth has also been known to end lives, particularly in Rome.”  

You returned your attention to the gladiator, checking the bandages one last time. “Then it seems we both walk a fine line, General.”  

Something about the way you said his title felt less like deference and more like acknowledgment. It wasn’t fear or awe that guided your words, but a quiet understanding of who he was and the power he held.  

Marcus watched as you moved to the next patient, a young boy with a deep gash on his leg. Despite the blood staining your hands and the weariness etched into your features, you treated the boy with the same care and kindness you had shown the gladiator.

“Why do you do it?” Marcus asked suddenly, his voice softer now. “Why risk your safety for those Rome has deemed unworthy?”

You paused, glancing at him over your shoulder. For a moment, the question hung in the air between you, heavy with unspoken meaning.

“Because someone has to,” you said simply. “If I don’t, who will?”

The honesty of your answer struck something deep within Marcus. He had spent years justifying his actions as a soldier, telling himself that the violence he carried out was for the good of Rome. Yet here you were, defying the very structure that upheld his world, all for the sake of compassion.

As Marcus continued to watch you, he couldn’t help but wonder if he was witnessing something rare—something that Rome, in all its grandeur, could not crush. For the first time in a long while, he felt a spark of hope.

You broke the silence first, turning to face him fully. “Shouldn’t you be with your army—overseeing the ships and preparing to ransack Numidia, yet another city, all for the so-called ‘Glory of Rome’?” You arched a brow at him, shifting your weight onto one hip with a subtle air of defiance.

The corner of Marcus’s mouth twitched, almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps,” he replied, his voice low, “but I find myself drawn elsewhere.”

“Elsewhere?” You tilted your head, your tone edged with skepticism. “Surely the great General Marcus Acacius has more pressing matters than standing in a healer’s clinic.”

“Perhaps,” he repeated, stepping closer. “But standing here, I begin to wonder if those pressing matters might pale in comparison to what I’ve found.” 

Your breath hitched, but you recovered quickly, letting out a soft laugh. “Flattery from a general. I never thought I’d see the day.”

“It’s not flattery,” he said, his eyes locking with yours. “It’s truth.”

You couldn’t help but laugh softly, shaking your head. “Careful, General. If you keep talking like that, people might start to think you have a heart.”

“Perhaps I do,” he said, his tone quiet, thoughtful. “And perhaps it’s found something worth fighting for, beyond Rome.”

Your breath caught at his words, your heart pounding in a way you hadn’t felt in years. But before you could respond, Marcus turned and walked toward the door, his heavy boots echoing in the quiet.

“I’ll return,” he said without looking back. “There’s still much I need to learn from you.”

And as he disappeared into the sunlight, leaving you alone in the quiet of your clinic, you couldn’t help but feel that your world had shifted—just a little, but enough to make you wonder what might come next.

ROME, 200 A.D. — AFTERNOON

The light of the afternoon sun streamed through the tall, arched windows of Senator Gracchus’s residence, casting golden patterns across the polished marble floors. You moved with practiced ease through the grand room, gathering fresh bandages and jars of ointment from your bag while keeping an ear to the Senator’s usual musings. Today, however, your mind was elsewhere.

“Did you send him to me?” you asked, your tone casual but your curiosity evident. You didn’t look up as you sorted through your supplies, your hands deftly organizing the salves and herbs.

“Send who?” Senator Gracchus replied, reclining on his plush lectus, the deep crimson cushions making him look more regal than his age might suggest. His tone was light, but there was a glimmer of mischief in his eyes. He was far too clever to play coy without reason.

“The General. General Acacius.” You paused, glancing at him from the corner of your eye before returning to your work.

The Senator’s lips curled into a knowing smile as he raised his chalice of wine. “Ah, Marcus. I may have mentioned your name in passing conversation.”

You froze for a moment, your brow furrowing. “In passing conversation?” 

“Of course.” He swirled the wine lazily in his cup. “I simply spoke of a brilliant healer who mends not just bodies but spirits. It seems the good general decided to see for himself if the rumors were true.”

You let out a soft huff, shaking your head as you resumed unpacking your things. “Well, he approached me today.”

“And how was he?” Gracchus asked, leaning forward slightly, his expression both intrigued and amused.

“He seemed…” You hesitated, your hands stilling as you searched for the right words. Memories of the encounter flickered in your mind—his commanding presence, the intensity in his eyes, the way his words seemed to linger long after he’d spoken them. “Alright, I suppose,” you said finally, shrugging your shoulders in an attempt at nonchalance. 

Gracchus chuckled softly, setting his chalice down on a nearby table. “Alright, you suppose? My dear, you’re a terrible liar.”

You turned to face him, crossing your arms over your chest. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means,” the Senator began, his tone teasing, “that you’ve just met one of the most formidable men in Rome, and yet here you are pretending he didn’t make an impression.”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, though you refused to let it show. “Impression or not, I don’t see how it’s relevant. I’m here to heal people, not… whatever it is you’re insinuating.”

“Oh, I’m not insinuating anything,” Gracchus said with a sly grin. “But let me give you a piece of advice, my dear. Men like Marcus Acacius don’t walk into someone’s life without a reason.”

“Perhaps he was just curious,” you said, turning away to mask the flutter of nerves that crept up your spine. “Or bored.”

“Curiosity doesn’t often bring him to clinics,” the Senator mused, leaning back once more. “Boredom even less so. Whatever the reason, I’d wager it has little to do with medicine.”

You rolled your eyes, though a small smile tugged at the corner of your lips. “If this is your way of playing matchmaker, Senator, I’d prefer you didn’t.”

“And here I thought you’d appreciate a distraction,” Gracchus said, raising his chalice once more. “But very well. Consider the matter dropped.”

For now, you thought, knowing full well that Gracchus wasn’t one to let things go so easily. As you busied yourself with preparing his treatment, you couldn’t help but replay the moment you’d locked eyes with Marcus Acacius, his gaze heavy with something you couldn’t quite name. 

Alright, you supposed. But deep down, you knew it was far more than that.

A FEW WEEKS LATER…

OSTIA, PORT OF ROME — DAY  

The sun blazed high over the port, casting a golden glow over the triumphant scene unfolding below. The air was alive with the sound of celebration—the roar of the crowd, the rhythmic chanting of his name.  

“Acacius! Acacius! Acacius!”  

You stood at a distance, hidden in the shadows of a towering marble column, your gaze fixed on the man at the center of the spectacle. Marcus Acacius, the war hero of Rome, returned victorious. His white chariot, pulled by majestic horses, moved with deliberate grace through the throng of citizens who waved laurel branches and tossed flowers into the air.  

The general himself was a vision of Roman splendor, adorned in white and gold, a flowing cape billowing behind him like the wings of an avenging angel. He waved politely to the people, his expression calm and composed, though you suspected a storm brewed beneath that veneer.  

As the chariot came to a halt at the steps of the grand Temple of Mars Ultor, young girls dressed in flowing white tunics and crowned with fresh flowers scattered rose petals in his path. He ascended the steps with measured strides, the marble beneath his feet gleaming in the sunlight.  

You stood among the other servants, the weight of a velvet pillow in your hands anchoring you to the moment. Atop the pillow rested a crown of golden laurels, shimmering with the promise of empty glory. Senator Gracchus had arranged for you to present it, an honor you neither wanted nor could refuse. Your palms were damp with nerves, but it wasn’t fear of the crowd or ceremony that unsettled you. It was the cruel spectacle of it all—the emperors reveling in their power while Rome decayed beneath their feet.  

Marcus reached the top of the steps, standing before the twin emperors. Geta, younger and deceptively charming, gestured to the approaching general. Caracalla, brooding and sharp-featured, watched with an intensity that made the scene feel like a predator sizing up prey.  

Marcus placed a fist over his heart in the Roman salutatio, nodding first to one and then the other. “Emperor Geta,” he began, his voice steady. He turned his gaze to the other. “Emperor Caracalla.”  

“General Acacius,” Geta replied with a wide, practiced smile.  

Marcus straightened, his tone humble yet firm. “I have taken Numidia in your names. Your dominion may yet eclipse that of every emperor who came before you.”  

Caracalla smirked, gesturing lazily to you with a flick of his hand. “Crown him with laurels, brother.”  

Your heart leapt as all eyes turned to you. You stepped forward, forcing yourself to keep your movements measured. Bowing your head slightly, you presented the pillow to Geta. He took the crown, sparing you no more than a dismissive glance, and you retreated quickly, blending back into the shadows as the ceremony continued.  

Geta placed the golden laurels atop Marcus’s salt-and-pepper curls, his smile widening as the crowd erupted in cheers. The senators clapped politely, their faces masks of approval, though you wondered how many of them truly celebrated the general's return.  

The procession moved inside the temple, where the grandeur of marble columns and gilded statues loomed over the gathering. You lingered near the edges of the hall, half-hidden among other attendants. Your eyes were drawn to Marcus, who stood surrounded by Rome’s elite yet seemed entirely apart from them.  

Geta approached Marcus with two chalices of wine, his gait almost casual. “In honor of your conquest, there will be games in the Colosseum,” he said, handing one to the general.  

Marcus accepted it with a polite nod, though his expression remained neutral. “I require no games in my honor. Serving the senate and the people of Rome is honor enough for me.”  

He raised the chalice to toast, but Geta pulled his cup back with a sharp laugh. “You are too modest, Acacius. It does not suit a general as accomplished as yourself.” He clinked their glasses together before Marcus could respond, his tone dripping with mockery.  

“The glory is yours, not mine,” Marcus replied, his words measured. “I only ask for respite from war. To spend time with…” His voice trailed off as his gaze flickered briefly—so briefly—toward you.  

Your breath hitched, the moment so fleeting that you questioned whether it had happened at all.  

Caracalla, lounging nearby, smirked. “Time for what, general? Gardens and poetry? Or something sweeter?”  

Geta ignored his brother, moving to a table where a long ceremonial sword rested. He lifted it, examining the blade with a predatory gleam in his eyes. “There are victories yet to come, Acacius.”  

He turned back toward the general, raising the sword as if to knight him. Lightly, he tapped Marcus’s shoulders, then paused, the blade hovering near his neck.  

“Persia. India. Both must be conquered.”  

With a slow, deliberate motion, Geta pressed the edge of the blade against Marcus’s neck, the sharp metal breaking skin just enough to draw a thin line of blood.  

Marcus didn’t flinch, though his expression darkened. His voice was low, steady, and cold. “Rome has so many subjects. She must feed them.”  

He swatted the blade away from his neck, a flicker of defiance passing between him and the emperor.  

Caracalla’s laugh rang out, sharp and cruel. “They can eat war!”  

Geta let the sword clatter to the floor, the sound echoing across the hall. “Your triumphs will be celebrated, General Acacius,” he said, his tone pointed. “As a tribute to the greatness of the Roman people.”  

He extended his hand, adorned with gaudy rings, and Marcus had no choice but to bow and kiss it. You saw the flicker of disdain in his eyes even as his lips brushed the emperor’s hand.  

From your shadowed corner, your heart ached for him. For the man who bore the weight of Rome’s sins with a quiet dignity that deserved so much more than the cruelty of its rulers.  

IMPERIAL VILLA — NIGHT  

The villa perched on the outskirts of Rome exuded a quiet elegance, its columns and arches glowing under the pale light of the moon. The night was thick with fog, curling like tendrils of smoke through the cypress trees that lined the estate. A gentle breeze carried the scent of rosemary and lavender from the gardens, mingling with the faint hum of nocturnal life.  

Inside, the villa was equally serene. Lucilla, ever gracious, had agreed to host you at the request of Senator Gracchus. The senator had claimed it was “more appropriate” for you to stay under her care, given the delicate balance of Roman customs and the constant scrutiny of the twin emperors. In truth, you suspected it was also for your safety. Lucilla’s influence, though quietly wielded, was a shield few dared to challenge.  

The villa was warm and inviting, a haven amidst the chaos of Rome. Yet, even as you settled into your temporary quarters, a restlessness stirred within you. You missed the simplicity of your small home, the steady rhythm of your work. Here, despite Lucilla’s kindness, you felt like a guest in gilded captivity.  

Meanwhile, Marcus Acacius found himself battling his own restlessness. When he learned you were staying with Lucilla, the knowledge sparked an idea he could hardly ignore. Though he was no stranger to the villa—it was a place he visited often as a long-time confidant of Lucilla—tonight, his reasons for coming were far from casual.  

He rode through the foggy night, his steed's hooves echoing against the stone-paved road. The air was cold, biting against his cheeks, but he barely noticed. Two of his guards flanked him, silent and watchful as shadows.  

When he reached the gates of the villa, a sentry stepped forward, his spear raised in a show of duty. “Halt! Who goes there?”  

The torchlight illuminated Marcus’s face, and recognition dawned on the guard. His stance shifted immediately. Placing a fist over his heart, he bowed. “General.”  

“Open the gates,” Marcus commanded, his voice steady but not unkind.  

The heavy iron gates creaked open, and Marcus dismounted his steed with practiced ease. A stable boy rushed forward to take the reins, bowing quickly before leading the horse away. Marcus adjusted his cloak, brushing off the dampness of the night, and stepped into the villa’s grounds.  

Inside, Lucilla greeted him in the atrium, her dark hair cascading over her shoulders and her sharp eyes glinting with curiosity. “Marcus,” she said warmly, though there was a knowing lilt to her tone. “I wasn’t expecting you tonight.”  

“I hope I’m not intruding,” Marcus replied, his lips curving into a polite smile. “I was nearby and thought it prudent to pay a visit.”  

“Nearby?” Lucilla arched an elegant brow. “Unless the general has taken to wandering the countryside aimlessly at night, I suspect there’s more to this visit than proximity.”  

Marcus didn’t answer immediately, his eyes scanning the villa’s hall. It was quieter than usual, the stillness broken only by the faint crackle of torches and the murmur of distant voices.  

Lucilla stepped closer, her expression softening. “She’s in the east wing,” she said, her voice dropping slightly.  

Marcus turned to her, his gaze sharp. “Who?”  

Lucilla smirked, crossing her arms. “You didn’t ride through the night for me, Marcus. Don’t insult my intelligence.”  

He chuckled softly, shaking his head. “You always see through me, Lucilla.”  

“It’s a gift,” she quipped, then gestured toward the hallway. “Go. But don’t wake the entire villa with your heavy boots.”  

Marcus inclined his head in thanks before making his way toward the east wing. The soft glow of oil lamps guided his path, casting flickering shadows on the walls. As he approached your quarters, his steps slowed.  

You were seated by the window, a soft blanket draped over your shoulders, gazing out at the misty garden. The stillness of the night felt fragile, like it might shatter at the slightest sound. The dim light of the oil lamp beside you softened your features, though weariness lingered in your eyes.  

A soft clearing of a throat broke the silence, low but deliberate.  

You turned quickly, your heart skipping at the unexpected intrusion. “General Acacius?”  

He leaned against the doorway, his armor traded for a plain, white tunic and dark cloak that suited the quiet of the night. His lips curled into a faint smirk. “My lady.”  

“I am no lady, General,” you corrected, your brow arching slightly.  

“Marcus,” he said, stepping into the room with a deliberate grace. “And I didn’t mean to disturb you.”  

“You didn’t,” you replied, though the confusion in your voice was evident. “What brings you here at this hour?”  

For a moment, he hesitated, as if weighing his words. Then, with a slight shrug, he said, “I wanted to ensure you were settling in comfortably. Lucilla’s hospitality can be... unique.”  

A faint smile tugged at your lips. “It’s generous, though I can’t help but feel a bit out of place.”  

Marcus nodded, his expression thoughtful. “This villa has always felt like a sanctuary. But I know it can be difficult to find peace in unfamiliar surroundings.”  

For a while, silence stretched between you. The weight of the world outside the villa—Rome’s cruelty, the constant tension—seemed to press lightly against the walls, but here, in this moment, the quiet was soothing.  

“Did you really ride all this way just to check on me?” you asked, a teasing note in your voice that broke through the stillness.  

His lips twitched, the beginnings of a smile warming his face. “Would you believe me if I said yes?”  

You tilted your head, studying him carefully, your gaze soft but sharp. “I might.”  

He stepped closer, the flickering light of the lamp catching the faintest glimmer in his dark eyes. His expression, though tempered by years of military discipline, held a warmth that made your heart skip.  

“Good,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.  

The room seemed smaller suddenly, the air charged with something unspoken. You cleared your throat, shifting slightly, your hands clutching at the fabric of your skirts as if to anchor yourself.  

“I thank the gods that brought you back home safe,” you said, your voice quieter now, tinged with something deeper.  

Marcus’s gaze didn’t falter. “Thank the army,” he replied humbly. “They protected me.”  

You nodded, acknowledging his words. “You must be hungry, then?”  

He raised a brow, clearly amused by the shift in the conversation, but he didn’t resist. “It has been a long ride.”  

Turning, you glanced toward the servant standing silently near the doorway. You offered her an apologetic smile, and she nodded in understanding before quietly leaving the room to fetch food and drink.  

As the door closed behind her, you turned back to Marcus. “It’s the least I can offer after you came all this way.”  

His lips twitched again, his faint smile now fully formed. “You’ve already offered more than you know.”  

You blinked, tilting your head in quiet curiosity. “What do you mean?”  

“Your kindness,” he said simply, stepping closer still. “It’s rare in Rome. Even rarer in my world.”  

Your cheeks warmed under his steady gaze, and you quickly turned your attention back to the window, hoping the dim light would hide your reaction. “I only do what anyone should.”  

“Perhaps,” he said softly, “but not everyone does.”  

The sincerity in his voice sent a flutter through your chest. When you finally looked back at him, he was closer now, his presence commanding but not overwhelming.  

“You’re too generous with your praise, Marcus,” you said, though the words felt light, almost teasing.  

“And you’re far too modest,” he countered, the smirk returning to his lips.  

The sound of footsteps approaching signaled the servant’s return, breaking the charged silence between you. She entered with a tray of fruit, bread, and wine, placing it on the small table by the window before bowing and retreating once more.  

You gestured toward the table, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Please, sit. You’ve had a long day.”  

Marcus inclined his head, his expression grateful as he took the seat opposite you. The light from the lamp flickered between you, casting long shadows on the walls.  

As you poured wine into two cups, the flickering lamplight caught the soft curve of your profile, drawing his gaze. Marcus watched you, his expression thoughtful, warm, and just a little too intense.  

“You should know,” he began, his voice low and deliberate, “this isn’t just about ensuring you’re comfortable.”  

Your hands hesitated for the briefest moment before continuing their task, but the air in the room seemed to thicken. You glanced up at him, your brow arching as you placed one of the cups in front of him. “Have you finally come to your senses and decided to arrest me? For treating those the Senate deems unworthy of saving?”  

The corner of his mouth twitched, a wry, fleeting almost-smile. “No.”  

You leaned back slightly, folding your arms across your chest, your head tilting in mock suspicion. “Then perhaps you’ve come to lecture me? To remind me how dangerous it is to meddle in things beyond my station?”  

His gaze softened, the warmth in it almost unsettling. “Do you think so little of me?”  

The teasing edge in your posture faltered for just a moment before you quickly recovered, glancing down into your own cup. “You’re a General, Marcus. You’re loyal to Rome. To the Senate. My work…” You shrugged, trying to sound casual despite the weight in your voice. “It doesn’t exactly align with the ideals of your empire.”  

Marcus reached for his cup, his hand brushing briefly, almost imperceptibly, against the edge of yours. “You’re right,” he said finally, his tone unreadable.  

Your gaze snapped to his, surprised. “I am?”  

“You don’t align with the empire,” he continued, taking a slow sip of the wine. “You stand above it. You see its flaws and still choose to fight for what’s right, even when it’s dangerous. Even when it puts you at risk.”  

The words struck something deep within you, leaving you momentarily at a loss. You hadn’t expected that—his understanding, his admiration.  

“And you don’t find that... infuriating?” you asked, trying to mask the tremor in your voice with a wry smile.  

“Infuriating?” he echoed, setting the cup down. “No.” His gaze held yours, steady and unyielding. “It’s extraordinary.”  

A sudden heat rushed to your cheeks, and you turned your attention to the fire crackling softly in the hearth. “You’re far too kind, General.”  

“Marcus,” he corrected gently, leaning forward.  

“Marcus,” you repeated, the name tasting unfamiliar on your tongue, though not unpleasant.  

He smiled faintly, as if satisfied. “And I’m not being kind—I’m being honest. Too few in this city have the courage to act as you do. Even fewer have the heart.”  

You looked back at him, searching his face for any trace of insincerity and finding none. The man before you wasn’t the untouchable war hero paraded through Rome’s streets. He was something quieter, something deeper.  

“And what about you?” you asked softly. “Aren’t you tired of all this? The battles, the politics, the endless expectations?”  

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his features. “More than you could ever know.”  

The quiet confession hung between you, delicate and heavy all at once.  

“Then why not walk away?” you pressed, your voice barely above a whisper.  

He gave a low, humorless laugh, running a hand through his curly hair. “And go where? Rome would never let me go, even if I wanted to. And…” He hesitated, his gaze flicking briefly to you before settling on the fire. “There are reasons to stay.”  

Your breath caught at the implication, but you forced yourself to keep your tone light. “Duty, I suppose?”  

His eyes met yours again, darker now, more intense. “Something like that.”  

The weight of his words pressed against your chest, and you found yourself wondering if he could hear the sudden quickening of your heart.  

“I’m not sure I understand you, Marcus,” you said quietly, the teasing edge gone from your voice.  

“Good,” he replied, a small smile playing at the corners of his mouth. “I’d hate to be predictable.”  

You couldn’t help but smile at that, shaking your head as you finally took a sip of your wine. “You’re certainly not that.”  

The room fell into a companionable silence, the crackling of the fire and the distant chirping of crickets filling the space. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, the weight of the world seemed to lift, if only slightly.  

“Thank you,” you said after a while, your voice soft but sincere.  

He tilted his head, his brow furrowing slightly. “For what?”  

“For coming,” you replied, meeting his gaze. “For… for seeing me. Not just tonight, but—” You hesitated, searching for the right words. “For seeing me as more than what Rome would make me.”  

His expression softened, and for a moment, the guardedness in his eyes melted away, replaced by something unspoken but undeniable. “It’s impossible not to.”  

The words wrapped around your heart, and for a fleeting moment, you allowed yourself to believe them.  

“At times, I wish you would abandon all of this,” you said softly, your voice trembling with honesty. “The wars. The blood. The service to men who deserve none of it.”  

Marcus’s jaw tightened, the muscle there twitching before he answered. “I’ve made my choice,” he said, his tone resolute, but there was a flicker of weariness in his eyes. “I can live with it. But my patience with them is at an end.”  

You glanced toward the far corner of the room, where Leta, the ever-watchful servant, lingered. Offering her a kind smile, you said, “Leta, you may go to your quarters now. We’ll need nothing more this evening.”  

Leta hesitated, her gaze flickering between the two of you, but at your gentle nod, she smiled and curtsied, before slipping out, leaving the room steeped in a quiet intimacy.  

Marcus exhaled deeply, as if the act of speaking had been weighing on him. He set his cup down on the nearby table across from you, his broad shoulders hunched slightly as though bearing the weight of Rome itself. “To hear wives and mothers mourning their dead on that beach of Numidia…” His voice was low, rough with emotion. He scoffed bitterly and ran a hand through his hair. “No more. I will not waste another generation of young men for their vanity. If I fight another campaign…” His gaze hardened, a fire igniting in his eyes. “It must be to depose them.”

Your breath hitched at the words. “You’re telling me this… why?” you asked carefully. “We’ve met only briefly. Why would you trust me with something so dangerous?”  

He leaned forward, his elbows resting on his knees, his intense gaze locking onto yours. “Am I wrong to assume that Senator Gracchus and Lucilla have been whispering thoughts not unlike my own? That Rome deserves better than two tyrants playing at being gods?”  

You hesitated, your lips quirking slightly to the side as you considered your answer. Finally, you gave him a small nod. “You’re not wrong. The whispers grow louder with each passing day.”  

For a moment, the room was silent save for the crackle of the fire in the hearth. You licked your lips nervously and took a steadying breath. Meeting his eyes, you asked, “When will your troops arrive?”  

“They’ll land in Ostia in ten days,” he replied, his voice low and firm.  

You nodded, your mind already calculating the implications. “How many will be loyal to you? To you alone?”  

“All of them,” he said without hesitation. “Many of them owe their lives to you, as I’ve heard it. Your words of wisdom, your care in the camps—they remember. Soldiers don’t forget kindness, especially in a world so devoid of it.”  

Your cheeks flushed at his words, but you pressed on. “The emperors have lost the people’s support,” you said, your voice heavy with conviction. “The citizens are weary of their madness, their tyranny. What is the dream of Rome if our people are not free?”  

Marcus let out a long sigh, the weight of the truth settling over him. “A dream deferred,” he murmured. “But not lost. Not yet.”  

The silence that followed was charged, the enormity of what lay ahead pressing upon both of you. You searched his face, seeing the resolute determination of a soldier but also the quiet yearning of a man who had seen too much, endured too much.  

“And what of you?” he asked, his voice softer now. “If the tide turns, if the gods will it… what would your dream of Rome be?”  

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. “A Rome where compassion isn’t a weakness. Where the people, not the emperors, hold the power. A Rome where no child grows up in fear of a tyrant’s whim.”  

His gaze softened, and for a moment, the hardened lines of his face eased. “That’s a dream worth fighting for,” he said quietly.  

You gave him a small, tentative smile. “And worth surviving for.”  

The words lingered in the air between you, a shared understanding forming in the flickering light. Neither of you dared to say it outright, but the unspoken promise was clear: whatever lay ahead, you would not face it alone.  

[greenwitchfromthewoods]

yes! love me some mortal x immortal??/god type couples, i think they're cute. It's always sad though when they realize one will outlive the other, unless they do some magical stuff to make the human live just as long or if maybe the god person turns into a human.

I think it'd be so cute for nymph reader to accidentally slip up again before her and marcus officially meet, but she's not quick enough to disguise herself or hide again before marcus sees her so he chases after her and then it's like love at first sight ❤️

Hi, sweetie.

Your idea inspired me to write this…. You can take this as a prologue to Nymph. I thought Marcus could be younger (maybe Javier Peña style?). I hope you like it.

Warnings:  fluff, some nudity, not much going on, mythological figures treated in a simple way

A/N: hope you will be gentle with me. your feedback is very important to me and I thank you for all the reblogs, comments and likes. 🖤 sorry for all the mistakes

nymph. [prologue] l General Marcus Acacius

Nymph [masterlist]

For a moment he thought he was daydreaming. He had to, because his eyes had never seen anything more beautiful. 

All the glory of Rome, with all its provinces, with its cities of marble and gold, were nothing compared to what appeared before his eyes.

A being. A woman. Light and luminous like the rays of the sun, so different from what surrounded her, and at the same time seeming to fit there as if she had been created for this place.

He shouldn't be in this place. Marcus immediately felt as if he had sneaked into a temple where men were forbidden to stay, or as if he had spied on something that was supposed to be a closely guarded secret.

That day his legs carried him to these areas outside the camp. He didn't know why, as if the warm wind was pushing him for fun into the thicket of the forest. And when he stood behind a large and old oak tree, he saw the silver surface of the lake and her in front of him.

Beautiful as early morning, naked, sitting on the shore of the lake with her face turned towards the sun. He should have retreated and forgotten about it, but he couldn't help himself. 

He took a step forward, very quietly so as not to scare the woman away, but when he passed a blackberry bush, a wild bird got scared and flew out of the branches with a screech.

The girl heard this and immediately stood up abruptly. In the full sunlight, he saw her naked figure, standing proudly, although fear flickered in her eyes. She was like one of the statues in the temples.

Marcus raised a reassuring hand, approaching "Don't be afraid. I won't hurt you."

She didn't say anything. She only gave him an angry look and reached for the flowing robe that was lying on the nearby stones. The soft material wrapped around her body, hiding the beauty of her body from his eyes.

"Are you a goddess?" he asked.

You looked at him over your shoulder. "If I were a goddess, you'd be dead or blind for daring to watch me bathe, mortal." you mocked him.

"So maybe you're a mermaid?" He was already close to you.

The light robes glowed with their own light. It was hard for him to believe that you were real.

"A mermaid?" you laughed. "You really don't know much about the world, but you're sweet." you turned to him with a smile on your face. "I'm a nymph, soldier."

He watched you carefully. Brown, gentle eyes looked at you with reverence. Dark hair, strong body and sun-kissed skin. You've seen many men, this one was really handsome.

"My name is Marcus." His voice was pleasant, low and warm. "I'm Marcus Acacius. I command the Roman troops stationed nearby."

You nodded. "You're everywhere. Even here." you gave him your name though, and he repeated it as if he wanted to check how it tasted on his tongue. "You are not the General of these troops. You are too young." 

Marcus frowned dark eyebrows, arrogance flashing from his eyes "I am over thirty years old."

"Still young." you smiled gently and approached him "I am older than the oldest oaks of this forest, than the lake you are looking at." your hand moved over his chest hidden behind his clean, black armor "I knew the heroes of your myths, I served the gods you worship. You are still young, Marcus."

He couldn't take his eyes off you. Every move you made, every grimace, every smile, he wanted to remember it all. His heart was beating hard in his chest, you had to feel it.

"You mortals are truly funny." you continued, your hand sliding to the hilt of the sword at his side. "You confuse sirens with nymphs, you blame gods for your decisions, you call monsters those who weren't."

"Who do you mean?"

Your amused gaze traveled to his handsome face. "Like Medusa."

Marcus rolled his eyes and groaned. "That Gorgon? She was a monster with snakes instead of hair."

"She was a beautiful woman. Neptune possessed her in my lady's temple, which is why Minerva was angry. It was a sacred place." you replied, and although your words were strong, he didn't see the anger in your eyes. You were amused by the naivety of this soldier. "Don't judge a woman for the actions of a man, even if he's a god. She had every right to fly into a rage. Rome does the same, and you serve it. Remember the wrath of Medusa, Marcus."

Your fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. A warm hand rested on yours. Marcus tilted his head slightly.

"If you want to disarm me, you have to give me something in return." he said, a small smile appearing under his dark mustache.

You raised your eyebrows slightly. "Oh, really? What's that?"

"A kiss. One small kiss." His soothing voice penetrated your heart. "Prove to me that you're real."

You considered his words for a moment. Your sisters had often told you about how sweet and handsome mortals tried to charm them just to possess their bodies. Marcus seemed different to you though. You didn't know why, but you liked him.

"That's a big ask." you said, lifting your chin proudly.

"That's also a request from a little boy, as you called me."

You shook your head in disbelief. His impudence was captivating. Finally, you nodded. With your free hand, you reached for his smooth cheek. The skin was warm, you felt his breath on your lips, you could almost hear his heartbeat. 

But it wasn't you who gave Marcus a kiss, it was he who stole it from you, pressing himself into your lips as if he wanted to taste the forbidden fruit at all costs. His hand slid into your hair and pulled you closer so that you wouldn't accidentally slip away from his lips. 

Warm, soft lips caressed yours, and as soon as you parted your mouth, Marcus took the opportunity and slipped his tongue in, deepening the kiss.

Your legs almost buckled under you. You'd never experienced anything like it. Your body gave in to each kiss, wanting more and more. The solid hilt of the sword in your hand provided your only stability. 

Eventually, however, Marcus had to draw his breath. It was at that moment that you drew his sword in one fluid movement and took a few steps back.

"You are too careless for a Roman soldier." You declared, raising his sword towards him.

"You can stab me with it, my sweetest." He replied, his eyes shining in ecstasy. "My life is complete now, I can die."

"You don't know what you're saying."

"My life is a blink of an eye to you. To me, you are equal to the gods."

He noticed your eyes widen, your chest heaving in a sharp breath. The blade trembled, too heavy for your unskilled hand. Marcus caught it and pulled you to him.

When his hand rested on your cheek you let go of his sword, which fell softly onto the grass. His touch was warm, gentle, tender. For a moment you thought that he couldn't be mortal, he had too much power over you.

"How can I live without being able to taste your lips every day?" he asked "Do something about it, or I'll go mad..."

"Your life is a blink of an eye to me..." you whispered feeling his lips brush the corner of your mouth "I'll have to live until the end of the world hungry for your warmth."

You let him experience the taste of your lips again. And Marcus seemed insatiable with you. Strong arms held you tightly, protecting you from sinking to the ground. It lasted maybe minutes, maybe hours. 

Marcus spent the whole afternoon with you, talking and listening, laughing and feasting his eyes on the sight of you. His heart was filled with feelings he couldn't name. 

However, his life called him to fulfill his duties to the Empire. He reluctantly reached for his sword.

"Will you be here tomorrow? I want to see you again."

You looked at him with tenderness. "I will be. And I will wait for you."

"Promise me."

"I promise."

He kissed your hands with reverence, feasted his eyes on your sight one last time, and then disappeared into the darkening forest, leaving you full of feelings unknown to you.

"My dear child..."

A familiar, calm voice floated to you from nearby. You felt a warm breeze and soon Minerva, your lady, stood by your side. Her armor gleamed in the last rays of the setting sun.

"I didn't think mortals could be like this." You said, staring at the place where Marcus had disappeared. "No one warned me about this..."

"A great future awaits him. His destiny must be fulfilled." the goddess spoke gently.

"Marcus will do great things. Many lives are already tied to him..." your voice broke, tears welling up in your eyes "My lady..."

Minerva looked at you softly, her eyes full of infinite wisdom. No one and nothing could hide from her.

"Take this from me." you whispered, with each word your heart shattering into pieces "Take from me what doesn’t belong to me. Take him."

"Do you know what you are asking, child?" Minerva's face was gentle but determined "You don’t know his full destiny. This mortal loves you, his heart is pure. He will come here tomorrow, for you."

"My lady, we are not destined for what we both desire... And I don't want to watch life slip away from his eyes. Please..." tears were already running down your cheeks, but you didn't feel ashamed, it only proved what you felt "Please make him forget about me and take him out of my head too. It was a beautiful day, but I don't want to take away what is destined for him..."

"Are you sure? Will you deprive yourself of this love?"

You nodded. This decision was painful, but you couldn't do otherwise. Marcus was supposed to have a bright future, full of victories and glory. There was no place for you there.

"Let it be so, child." the goddess's hand, hot as the sun's rays, touched your cheek, Minerva leaned down and her lips brushed your forehead "Forget it, it is my will. Let this feeling fly away from you if it is not meant for you. And tomorrow, when he opens his eyes at dawn, he will no longer remember what happened here. May destiny be fulfilled." 

When the first rays of sunlight crept lazily into the camp tent, Marcus rubbed his eyes and stretched on the bed. A strange feeling of emptiness and loss filled his heart. He had the impression that he had lost something precious, something that he would never get back.

nymph. [1/2] l General Marcus Acacius

taglist: @ashleyfilm @gothcsz @littlenicpascal

@missladym1981 @axshadows @psychoenergy @sabsunflowergirl @pedrofan @heckzprince @hard-candy-writing

[halfhissandwich]

@analoginceweek Day Five: “Here is where we shall stay.”

Story below! (Part two to Day Four)

“Hey, Virge, I need to go, Thomas is getting tired and I’m on dream duty tonight.” Roman informs Virgil of his situation. “Can… can you stay here and make sure our Perfect Professor is okay?”

“Nice alliteration… and yeah. Don’t worry, I’ll stay.” Virgil mumbles that last sentence more to himself than to Roman, but the prince gets the message regardless, and appears grateful as he pecks Virgil’s lips, causing the latter’s eyeshadow to quickly turn a sparkly purple color before he pulls away, lightheartedly slapping Roman’s arm. “You dork!”

“Haha! You know you love me, Virgil!” Roman playfully winks at him and Virgil’s face flushes when he finds that he can’t refute that claim. So he responds with a simple roll of his eyes. “I- oh, crap, I gotta go. You’ll be okay here?” Roman asks quickly, and when he gets a nod in response, he kisses Virgil’s cheek. “Bye V, tell Logan I said bye, I love both of you!” Roman takes a bow and sinks out.

Drama prince.

Virgil sits outside of Logan’s room for about 2 minutes before Logan finally opens the door, just a crack. Virgil jumps in surprise, looking at the door to find that Logan had in fact opened it… but Logan isn’t in the position that he had hoped. He still looked sad but on top of that, his eyes were a bright orange color, a sign that Virgil knew the significance of. “Logan…?” Virgil slowly speaks, trying not to provoke him.

Upon hearing Virgil say his name, Logan bursts into tears and falls down to his knees, babbling incoherent apologies to Virgil’s surprise. “I’m so- sorry- sor-” Logan practically chokes on his own sobs, prompting Virgil to kneel beside him and place his hands on Logan’s shoulders, observing the dark eyeshadow under Logan’s eyes. “L-Logan, hey, hey. Shhhh… look at me.” Virgil is unable to keep his own voice from shaking as he tries to get Logan’s attention, but Logan miraculously looks up at Virgil, breaking his heart with his terrified expression. “Do something for me. I want you to name five things you can see.” Virgil instructs, surprising Logan with the exercise that Logan had guided Virgil through before.

Shaking somewhat violently, Logan’s eyes shoot around the room, trying to decide what to say. “I-I can see… my- my bookshelf, I see… I s-see your s-sweatshirt… and your shirt… and I also see the lights in my room… and my blanket… was that five…?” Logan asks, gently fidgeting with the strings of Virgil’s hoodie, causing a warm smile to appear on Virgil’s face.

“Well done, Logan, that was five, very good.” Virgil praises Logan, keeping his hands steady on Logan’s shoulders, his own anxiety dying down with Logan’s success, which seems to also help Logan feel better. “Four things you can touch?”

As Logan continues through the exercise with Virgil’s guidance, Logan slowly finds himself being more and more grounded, and at the exercise’s conclusion, his newly orange eyes gaze into Virgil’s purple ones with hesitance, yet still with admiration. “You… you remembered.” Logan observes.

“Of course I did.” Virgil assures. “I still use that exercise a lot when I start feeling overwhelmed by my anxiety. It’s nice to have different options, know what I mean?” Logan nods wordlessly. Virgil looks at Logan’s eyes, then down at his hands as he takes them in his own, finally observing the elephant in the room. “So… he’s been bothering you.”

Logan averts his gaze, tears threatening to fall again as he nods. “He has… but not just him.” Logan starts, trying to find the courage to tell Virgil what had happened. Virgil, seeming to understand Logan’s feelings, squeezes his hands in order to give Logan the reassurance he needs. It proves successful as Logan continues talking. “When… when Thomas was cleaning, Remus showed up and started doing… doing his thing. I gave Thomas different methods to make himself feel better about how Remus was bothering him, but then he… he…” Logan clears his throat in an attempt to continue speaking. Nothing happens when he tries again. He clears his throat and tries to speak again. Nothing happens.

“What did Remus do, Logan?” Virgil asks, being as gentle with his question as possible, and struggling to hide his surprise when Logan yells. “HE MADE ME MAD! I- … I felt… so angry. He was ignoring me when I was trying to talk some sense and it felt like my blood was burning. And then he was right! The second that Nico called Thomas, Thomas started completely ignoring my efforts to tell him that implementing this damn schedule!” Logan rises, pulls out the schedule he had worked so hard to create with Thomas, a relic of how valuable he is, and rips it apart.

Upon seeing Virgil tense up at Logan’s outburst, Logan sighs and sits back down. “I’m sorry, Virgil… I just… I feel…” Logan begins, but trails off. Virgil holds his hand, wanting him to finish speaking. “I f-feel… sad. And mad.” Logan admits, lacking the appropriate emotional vocabulary to put a precise name to his feelings. “And I… something about Roman… he kept making me think about Remus. Like, I would see Roman but also see Remus. And I know that’s terrible! He’s nothing like Remus, I know that! Roman is bright, and intelligent, and funny, and… clean.” Logan looks down, avoiding meeting Virgil’s tense gaze.

“… I get it. When I first came to the light side, Roman did usually, well… remind me of Remus.” Virgil admits. “Granted, I barely knew Roman and I grew up with Remus, but still… We both know how amazing Roman is now, and we know that while he is similar to his brother, he’s different in all the ways that matter. He’s kind, he respects the space of others, he is able to reflect on his actions and take accountability and feel guilt when he makes mistakes, and well… when he makes us angry, there are good intentions behind it, right?” Virgil asks, prompting Logan to nod.

“I had a feeling that my brother was behind this somehow.”

Virgil and Logan both jump in terror realizing that Roman had returned, apparently done with his duties in creating a dream for Thomas. Virgil waves hello, but Logan is frozen as he desperately tries to explain himself to the prince, who was standing in the doorway with his arms crossed and a neutral expression on his face. “Oh my god…” Logan tears up. “Oh god, Roman, I’m so sorry… I swear, I didn’t mean to compare you to Remus, I promise, I… you… you aren’t mad, are you?”

“Mad? Oh I am absolutely furious, but not at you, mi amor.” Roman takes one of Logan’s hands in both of his own. “You haven’t done anything wrong.”

“I… I haven’t? But… I thought I hated when-” Logan starts.

“I hate when people imply that the only thing keeping me from being the evil twin is a mustache.” Roman clarifies with a small jab at Janus. “My brother and I are very similar, Logan, I know that. And I understand that if there are two Creativities, then they will naturally be connected. But you weren’t even comparing us, Logan, you looked at me and you were reminded of an event that really hurt you less than an hour prior.”

Listening to Roman’s voice was enough to completely soothe Logan’s tense body, his shoulders relaxing and his breathing slowing to a relaxed pattern. “May I hold you, Logan?” Virgil smiles, to which Logan snuggles up to him, letting himself be vulnerable in his partner’s arms as Roman maintains his hold on Logan’s hand. “Is there anything I can do to help you?” Roman asks. Logan looks at him, then down at the ripped piece of paper he had left at his feet. He pauses.

“Can you give me some tape?”

[aphroditeslover11]

Exam Shenanigans

Oppie x Reader

Summary: Oppie helps you through a tough exam.

A/N: My first time writing anything so please be kind. Lloyd is totally fictional, as is Oppenheimer in this as he is mainly based on Cillian Murphy’s portrayal. If you like it please feel free to get in touch.

It was just a regular evening, Robert had been working at the university as usual and had just got back to his house in Shasta road, hoping that he’d just be able to have a quiet evening in, maybe get on with a bit more of his current paper or discuss the new book that you’d been reading together. Instead he walked through the door to darkness. The house seemed empty until he reached the living room where he found you, single light on in the corner and hunched over, seemingly heaving.

“Y/N, are you alright darling?” he asked, switching on another light before making his way over to you. It soon became clear that you had been crying, leaning over a book that you had been trying to read through your tears.

“I’m fine Robert, nothing that you need to worry about.” Not satisfied with your response he adjusted the cushions of the sofa, sitting down beside you. He wasn’t always the most sensitive to the emotions of others, but he could at least tell when you were lying to him.

“Love, you’ve been crying, something must be wrong.” He noticed then that you were moving to hide the book down the side of the sofa. “Was your novel sad, unhappy ending?” he pushed a little further. You just shook your head at him, still silent, as if speaking would set you off again. “What is it you’re reading anyway?” With that he gently reached across you, taking the book from your grasp and noticing your brief reluctance to release it. As soon as he saw the title he understood why you were crying: ‘A Comprehensive History Of The Late Western Empire’, a history textbook.

As soon as you knew that he had seen it you started to explain. “My professor set a surprise exam on the Roman Empire and I don’t know anything about it. We were meant to be doing the French Revolution when I took the course, but he changed his mind on units last minute. ”

“I’m sure we can sort it out, you don’t need to be so upset love. Who’s your professor? Maybe I could pull some strings and get you transferred.” he said taking you into his arms, the reassurance driving any tears away. You were a student at Berkeley, having met Robert through friends at a social event and quickly falling for him. After a period of dating your accommodation had fallen through and he had insisted that you move in with him. It was fast, but you stayed over half the time anyway, so it made sense.

“Lloyd, but I don’t want to transfer, he already doesn’t like me and I don’t want it to look like I’m giving up.”

“Lloyd wouldn’t do anything for me anyway, hates my guts, that’s probably why he’s difficult with you.” Although Robert loved it at Berkeley and was friends with half of the faculty, he didn’t get on so well with the other half, who openly hated anyone with his kind of politics.

“Well then, there’s only one other solution, we’ll have to work through it together.”

“Robert, I love you, but the exam’s in a week and I have no idea what’s going on, all the people in that book have the same bloody name. What do you know about the Roman Empire anyway? You’re a physicist.” The man chuckled slightly at that remark, lightly stroking your hair to relieve your angst.

“You happen to be very lucky, because one of the classes that I took when I was at Harvard was history, and I happen to have read all 3,000 pages of Edward Gibbon’s ‘Decline And Fall Of The Roman Empire’. I might just be able to remember a thing or two.” Robert really was unbelievable sometimes, you just had to hope that he had the knowledge to face the challenge as well as the cockiness, though he usually did.

The next week was spent with your head in and out of books. Robert would borrow books from the Berkeley library whilst he was at work, bringing them home to you. He spoke to a friend who worked in the history department who gave you some pointers on what to focus on. By the end of the week you weren’t perfect, but you knew a lot more about Rome than you used to, thanks at least partly to Oppie’s efforts. He drove you in on the day of the exam, smiling at you softly as you went through some last minute notes from the papers sat in your lap. He delivered a chaste kiss to your lips, offering reassuring words as you left the car, ready to face the music.

~

Five days later you came into Robert’s office at the university, interrupting him grading papers, but he would always drop everything for you. He looked up to see you waving an envelope in your hand.

“We got the grades back today, but I couldn’t bring myself to it open without you.” He extended an arm to you, scooting his chair back so that you could situate yourself in his lap.

“Well, aren’t you going to open it?” he asked once you had yourself settled, handing you a letter opener. Nervously, you took the proffered tool, ripping across the top of the envelope in one swift motion. Pulling out the piece of paper, your eyes immediately went to the letter written at the top of the page. A.

You immediately jumped from Robert’s lap, squealing in happiness. He was reserved as ever, though his face broke into a wide smile once he saw the piece of paper that you had dropped in your excitement. He stood up to join you in celebration, pulling you into his arms before planting a firm kiss to your lips.

“I’m so proud of you love, I knew that you could do it.”

“Not without you Rob, you’ve been a godsend this past week.”

“Have a little more faith in yourself love. But forgetting everything else, what do you say to going out to celebrate? Maybe grab dinner and have a couple of drinks?”

“That sounds wonderful Robert,” you replied, leaning your head back against his shoulder.

[localfanbaselurker]

I’m watching “Voltron: Legendary Defender” for the first time and these are my compiled thoughts.

This is Season 3

(S 1-2) (4) (5) (6) (7) (8)

———————————————————————

<this one will be a little longer because I took more pictures when I watched these two seasons, as I got a little more invested in the show>

(Edit: apparently I can only put 10 pictures per post, so while I planned for this to be season 3 and 4, this has to be a solo season post because I have wayyyy too many thoughts and a lot of them need accompanying pictures)

Pre-Season 3

-> I wonder who is gonna be the new black paladin, I hope it’s Allura. Or Keith I guess, but his ass is NOT ready for leadership

-> I need to know where Shiro is. Bring back my Cruella Deville!

-> the witch is altean! This is gonna be sooo important I just know it

-> I wonder how Allura and Keith will interact now that she sorta accepted him being part galra. that’s actually a really interesting topic.

->Keith being galra is gonna be something very important as well I think.

-> Pidge BETTER find her brother and father this season or I swear Dreamworks is gonna catch these hands

Post-Season 3

-> ^if villain why hot?

->his ideals are giving Roman Empire. (I guess that makes sense considering he’s the prince of the Galra Empire)

->^hmmm.🤨🤔 (I know what you are)

->^Space TyLee! And Space Asami, too!

->^oh so Keith gets to be insecure now, I guess everyone gets their own “angst” episode

->^hes the first to comfort him! is this a “klance” moment? It feels like one

->^Once again have to talk about Allura and her dad. She already threw away all her dad’s memories and his “essence” of him. Now she can’t even stay connected to him by piloting his lion ☹️. I genuinely get so sad every time I think about her. 🙁 All I do at 3 am is cry. 😕

->I originally got super sad about that, but then she became the blue one and I was really happy. But I was reallyyyy confused about the schematics of the switches. (still kinda am) like the lions don’t fit their personalities. And isn’t it the point that they get chosen for a reason?? Like when the blue one chose Lance in s1? And the red one chose Kieth, etc. ?? I guess it makes sense for them to call on other paladins when Shiro “dies” (his ass is not dead, I’m 100% sure of that) but Allura fits Black/Red better imo.

-> But then again, I did like how it was executed/explained. “Oh Lance ur the new red one cus you accepted Keith as ur leader and now you have to be the right hand. Get it cus red is Voltron’s right arm??” like yeah. And of course:

->^Allurance!! I finally see it, now.

-> Also, my supposed question about “langst” was proven wrong, there’s more than just the “seventh wheel” episode.

“Not only am I not meant to be the leader, I guess… I guess now I’m not even meant to be a paladin”

He is really insecure about that isn’t he? Does any of this ever get resolved??

-> this season was huge for klance apparently. They have so many moments together. When they get dragged by evil elsa Lotor to that weird planet and have their lions talk face to face, the shoulder touch, them seeking each other out for/being the first to give the other comfort/reassurance, “Leave the math to Pidge” , Lance being the most upset that Keith isn’t at the parade thing, their teamwork in “Tailing a Comet”, “Yeah, who am I gonna make fun of?”

You guys just kept winning this season honestly slay.

-> The Lore drop that Coran did about the creation of Voltron/Original Paladins. Bro

->I’m still hung up on that. Honerva I could have saved you.

-> Gotta say though im all for an evil couple.

-> I loved all the S1 call backs to the original paladins “I’m a leg!” Like yeah 🩷 you are 💛 and the og blue paladin does the “lance in the intro” thing

->^When they form Voltron for the first time in the flashback, the colors are brighter, much like the original 80s show’s colors, and the captions later read “Defender of the Universe”, which was the name of the original Voltron show. This is an especially fun detail because not only are they honoring the “original paladins/voltron” of the show’s lore, they are also doing so in reference to the original show itself, which I think is all so beautiful

->Baby Allura is soooo cute!

-> We get Shiro back! I knew he wasn’t dead. Low key I was scared he lost another arm or something but no! He’s okay 🖤🤍

-> I did some research and it turns out he is in fact 25, I don’t know whether to be happier or sadder for him. On one hand, thank fuck he’s not like 15-17 like the others, on the other hand, he should be at the club. He should be finding love, he should be at his 9-5 paying taxes and doing laundry not having his arm chopped off and replaced with magic and having to fight in the space coliseum and then escaping and having to pilot a giant robot and be a part of an intergalactic war. (I suppose that last part is true for all of them, but the rest is shiro-specific, and it all makes me a little sad)

-> call me crazy but he looked hotter when his hair was long

-> on that note, WHERE did he find a razor. Did he just use a sword or something?? Like in mulan??

-> in “Tailing a Comet”, they apparently meet alternate space reality!Kuvira from atla:lok , and ASR!Bataar Jr. I mean, really, down to the bun and the mole, as well as the controlling dictatorship-esque behavior and the “really, this is actually for their own good” attitude when it comes to said controlling behavior. Did the writers of each show just share ideas or??

-> im so serious with that last question. The thing that came out of the “quintessence rift” that the original paladins had to fight? A dark spirit from LoK: Book 2: Spirits. Whatever tf happened to zarkon when he got too close? When Unalaq got possessed by Vaatu. I mean really, were they just passing cards like go fish?

->I genuinely cried when Keith left for the Blade of Marmora (to save time, I’m gonna start calling them the “Blades” or “BOM”)

-> however, I feel like him leaving for the blades is gonna be really plot relevant later on

-> I think that’s when S3 ended im pretty sure. I don’t have further thoughts other than those I could’ve discussed if I could upload enough pictures for my S4 thoughts that accompanied them.

These are thoughts I’ve had compiled for a while. I finished S3 on 06/26/24 and S4 on 06/30/24. As of today (07/3/24) I am on S5E3.

I will continue to post my thoughts/Updates on the tag “laura’s first vld”

[milkhoney531]

Coffee and Zombies (CaZ)

Summary: Life and Death, two very contrast things. Or are they? In the zombie apocalypse, what is death? What is life? Is anyone truly living? A scientist searching for a cure to his mistake, a firefighter bent on helping survivors, two supernatural brothers struggling to adapt and survive, and two brothers who desperately want to rest and find safety. Will they survive?

Chapter 1

   The world didn’t end with a bang. It didn’t end in war. It didn’t end in nukes. It didn’t end with the sun going supernova. It didn’t end with pollution or melting ice caps. No, it ended with a cup of coffee. Two scientists for the company Lily of the Valley, the flower of death, destroyed the world. The two never got along, they were working on a new project. Unfortunately together, unfortunately at unsustainably long hours. Unfortunately, with their brains impaired by lack of proper food, sleep, or hydration, tensions boiled. They weren’t as careful as they should have been. They fought over the last bit of coffee and beakers broke. They became the first two infected with the zombie virus. All over a cup of coffee.

   Death watched in disappointment as he held the two souls as their body spread the virus, ripping flesh from the people near them. Making his job harder than it ever should have been. They would never even see the damage they had done. They would never live through the fear they had brought over the world. Life appeared next to him, her normally warm features stony. She took the two souls from him.

     “I’m tired, Death. They have doomed my creations.” Life said quietly.

     “I am tired as well. But there is work to be done.” Death sighed.

     “Not for us. They made this mess. They can deal with it.” Life said, looking scornfully down at the two souls.

 

   The smell of coffee filled Roman’s senses when he woke up. He rose from bed and was going to wake up Remus only to have his brother’s hand clasp over his mouth. He held a finger to his lips and pointed towards their bedroom door. Roman saw the blood seeping from beneath the door. He smelled the blood. He heard the screams outside. He saw the word zombies written in blood on the door. He looked at his brother, there was blood on his face and hands, his pajamas were ripped. With shaky hands he moved his twin’s hand from his mouth.

     “Mom? Dad? Are they-?” Roman couldn’t finish the whispered question.

   Remus only nodded. He didn’t look sad. Was this a prank? No. Remus looked too serious. The blood, he could smell it. They were orphans in the zombie apocalypse. This was a shitty way to start their eleventh birthday. He heard a thud against their bedroom door and nearly yelped, but his cry was muffled by Remus pulling him into a hug. He was shaking. Remus was shaking. This was real. What were they going to do?

   They couldn’t stay here. Roman gently pulled out of the hug and took his brother’s hand. He led him to the closet and gave him a bag. Remus seemed to know exactly what he wanted to say. They started packing what they could, trying to keep it to things they needed, but Roman couldn’t help but include the scrapbook he had been working on with his dad and grandma. It had too many memories to leave behind. Were his grandparents still alive? He felt a hand on his shoulder and saw the look of worry his brother had. At least he still had him.

   Roman gave him a reassuring smile. Silently, they got back to packing and getting ready. He didn’t know where they were going to go or how they were going to get out of the apartment alive. But they’d figure it out. They had too. Remus’s constant planning for alien invasions and zombie apocalypses seemed a lot less stupid now. Maybe his brother’s love of gore would save them? He gave a silent sight. They were eleven now. He woke up to coffee and zombies. Great.

[fangirlwriting-stories]

Protector

Chapter One

Author’s Note: Another chapter where you should check the trigger warnings first!

Chapter Eighteen:

It was a long, long night, and Virgil didn’t get much sleep during it.  Remus was waking up from nightmares, and it was difficult to get him to calm down again when Virgil couldn’t help by saying something reassuring.

He slept right through breakfast with a quick break to text Patton that he was going to do that, and when he finally woke up it was past lunchtime.

Remus was still sleeping next to him, and Virgil climbed up without waking him.  It probably wouldn’t have been as easy as it was if Remus could hear him, but— well.  He’d earned the rest.

Virgil headed out of his room with the sole intention of getting to Janus, but before he could make it very far he came across Logan who was walking up the steps.

“Ah, Anxiety, there you are,” he said.  “We’ve all been worried, are you alright?”

“I’m fine,” Virgil said, pretty sure it showed on his face how obvious it was that that was a lie.  “Have you seen Janus?  I really need to talk to him.”

“I believe he’s downstairs helping Patton clean up lunch.  But Anxiety, you don’t look well.  Can I convince you to sit with me for a minute?  I can talk you through some research I’ve been doing that I find particularly interesting.”

“Later Lo, I promise,” Virgil said, moving past him on the stairs as politely as he could.

He didn’t actually make it to the kitchen, however, because Roman bounded up to him from the living room as soon as he reached the bottom of the steps.

“Anxiety, there you are!  Patton said you weren’t feeling well, I was thinking I could take you to my spa in The Imagination, it really does wonders, and I can help you with the settings so you can get whatever kind of experience you like!”

“Another time, Roman, but thank you,” Virgil said, finally starting for the kitchen.

But Janus, for some reason, was not there.

“Oh, hey kiddo,” Patton said, turning to face him.  “I’m glad you’re feeling better.  I made you some cookies, here, let me grab them.”

“Give me five minutes,” Virgil said, waving Patton off.  “Sorry, I just— where’s Janus?  Logan said he was here.”

“Oh, he was helping me clean up, but he finished, so he went back up to his room.”

Virgil groaned in frustration and sank out before Patton could say anything else.

Thankfully, Janus was finally in his room as he rose up in it.  He was sitting over at his desk, clearly working on something important, but unfortunately for him it would have to wait.

“Janus,” Virgil said desperately, walking over and grabbing his shoulder.  Janus startled as he turned around.

A second later, he stood up and narrowed his eyes slightly in concern.  “Are you alright, Virgil?  You seem upset about something.  No one’s seen you all day, are you—”

“I— I need a favor,” Virgil cut him off, trying to stamp his panic down.

“What is it?” Janus asked, at least still looking concerned.

“I—” Virgil took a breath and tried to get his thoughts in order.  “I need to bring Remus over here,” he said.  “I need him here.  Let me bring him here, please?”

It seemed to take Janus a minute to process what Virgil had said, and then his gaze saddened, and Virgil’s chest welled up with dread.

“Virgil,” Janus said, starting to shake his head.  “I can’t.  I know you miss Remus, but I have to make that decision based on whether or not Thomas is ready to meet him.  And he isn’t.  I’m sorry.”

He sounded genuine, as if that was enough to make up for it.

Virgil shook his head.  “You don’t understand,” he said, but they’d had this conversation before, and it never worked, Janus never listened.

“I do,” Janus said with a sad smile.  “Leaving is hard.  I would never pretend it isn’t.  But Virgil,” Janus reached out and put a hand on his shoulder.  “You’ve helped Thomas so much since you came over here.  He’s closer to being ready to meet the others than he’s ever been before, and that includes Remus.”

Virgil shook his head again.  “That’s not—”  He took a shaky breath.  “That’s not good enough, Janus.  I haven’t been good enough.  He has to meet him now.”

Janus crossed his arms with a concerned frown.  “Virgil, whether Thomas is ready to meet Remus yet or not does not reflect anything about your worth,” he said.

Virgil shook his head.  “You don’t understand.”

Janus sighed, seeming hesitant but not irritated.  “Alright,” he said.  “How about this.  Remus can come over for breakfast today.  And I’ll consider how Thomas is doing after we get the next video out.  We’ll be taking a break then, things might be different in a couple weeks or so.”

Virgil shook his head again.  “Janus, you don’t understand,” he said.  “Remus can’t wait that long.”

“I do understand, I promise,” Janus said.  He gave Virgil a sad smile and squeezed his shoulder lightly.

“I miss Remus too,” he said, as if it was the same, as if he had ever cared about Remus, as if he got to claim some kind of relationship with him that allowed him to miss him.  As if he hadn’t cast Virgil and Remus into a warzone with nothing but each other.

Virgil looked up at Janus’ genuinely remorseful face, and he thought of Remus still sleeping on his bed, probably going to wake up terrified if Virgil didn’t get back there soon.  He thought of what might happen to Remus if he sent him back, everything that was so dangerously close to being lost.

Something in him hardened.

This was never going to work, was it?  It didn’t matter what he did, Janus was never going to like him enough to risk hurting Thomas, not even for Remus’ sake.  He was always going to have to force his hand.

Fine.  If he was so goddamn helpful to Thomas, let’s see what Thomas was willing to do about it.

“Okay,” Virgil said softly, turning to go back to his room.

“Virgil?” Janus called after him.  “I really am sorry.”

Virgil shoved his hands into his pocket and clenched them into fists.  “I know,” he said.

Then he started for his room and got ready to do something crazy.

…

“Remus,” Virgil murmured as if he could hear him, shaking him gently awake.  “Remus, you have to get up.  I have to take you somewhere.”

Remus blinked his eyes open, and before even a second had passed they widened in fear.

“Am I going back?” he whispered.

Virgil shook his head.  “No.”

Remus’ eyes widened further.  “Janus said yes?”

Virgil grabbed his dream journal.

“Not yet,” he wrote.  “But I have a plan.  It shouldn’t take longer than a couple hours.  I know a place you can hide until then.”

“Where?” Remus asked nervously.

“Can you take us to Roman’s Imagination?” Virgil wrote down.

Remus looked at the paper and nodded slowly.  “Probably.  But why can’t I just stay here?”

“Trust me,” Virgil wrote.

Remus nodded again, and reached out and took Virgil’s hand.  They both sank out, and a second later they appeared in a clearing in Roman’s side of The Imagination.

“Stay away from the mountains,” Virgil wrote in the journal.  “It’s not safe yet.  I’ll be right back.”

Remus caught his arm before he could sink out again.  “What are you going to do?” he asked.

Virgil just smiled at him and sank out to his room.

Ducking out was not dying.  But the effect would be the same.  Virgil had tried very hard to avoid dying after the first time it happened had such an effect on Thomas.  He remembered being told off by Janus for not doing his job and putting Thomas in danger as a result.  And now he was going to try and cause that kind of effect on purpose.

He wasn’t going to be sleeping well tonight.  But that couldn’t be helped.  Remus needed him.

The only issue was how to actually go about doing it.  Whenever his connection to Thomas got cut off via dying, it was unintentional.  He didn’t really know how it worked.  He’d always figured it was because he wasn’t there, but he couldn’t just stay in his room and have the same effect.

Virgil bit his lip as he thought.  Whenever Remus died, his room disappeared, and he assumed his own did the same.  Maybe that was a sign of how severely the connection with Thomas had been severed?  Maybe if he focused on that?

Virgil took a deep breath, shoved his nerves to the bottom of his stomach, and thought about Thomas.

He focused on the connection between the two of them, honed in on it until it formed a shape that looked like an open door.  Virgil took a deep breath, reached out, closed and locked it.

Immediately everything felt wrong.  Virgil’s heart leapt to his throat and he looked around desperately as if that would help him be able to feel Thomas again.  Of course it didn’t work, and Virgil had to bury his hands in his hair and pull to stop himself from immediately unlocking and opening the door again.

He had to stay here.  He had to.  Just for long enough that everyone would notice and come get him.

Virgil sat back on his bed and tugged on his hair again.  Focus.  Breathe.  You know how to play this.  You can do it.

Virgil’s breath shook on its way out.

It felt so empty.  It felt so empty and he couldn’t sense Thomas and he didn’t know what was happening or whether or not Remus was okay or how long it was going to take anyone to notice he was missing.  He knew the effect his loss had on Thomas, at least sort of, through second hand descriptions and to a much less severe degree.  But he didn’t know if it set in immediately or if it was more of a gradual thing.  Oh fuck, please don’t let it be a gradual thing.

Virgil yanked on his hair again.  Breathe.  You’re not going to be alone for much longer.  It’s okay.  It’ll be okay.  Breathe.  It doesn’t matter that you’re lying.  Just breathe.

Virgil curled his legs up to his chest and leaned back on his bed, then forward, trying to soothe himself with the motion.  It wasn’t working terribly well, which wasn’t great, considering he was going to have to be operating at peak performance to pull this off.

He took one more breath and pulled his hair again, trying to focus on the pain it caused to start to ground himself, and then looking around to continue the process.

“You can do this,” he said to himself.  “This is for Remus.  You can do it.  You can.”

Thankfully, before his thoughts could start spiraling again, the room shifted its appearance to look like Thomas’ living room, meaning Thomas was coming.  Virgil suddenly found himself curled in a ball on the steps, in his usual spot slightly above Janus.  And a second later, Thomas, Patton, Logan, Roman, and Janus all appeared.

Virgil let out a short breath of relief.  Thank fuck, the effect had been large enough to catch their immediate attention.

Virgil still couldn’t feel any connection to Thomas, though, and when he checked, the door was still tightly shut and locked, which was probably why no one in the room looked over at him like they could see him.

“Woah,” Thomas said, grinning around like nothing was wrong.  “I knew I should have taken that left turn at Albuquerque.”

“You made that joke in the last video,” Logan said, which was about the time Virgil noticed there were in fact cameras, meaning Thomas had for some reason thought it was a good idea to start filming.

…Actually, that kind of made sense.  Didn’t make things easier on Virgil, though.

“I know.  It was just to reestablish where we are in the present timeline,” Thomas said.  “Wow, so this is Anxiety’s room.”

Thomas spent a couple seconds looking around, as while most of the other sides had been in here at least once, he never had.

Virgil took the time to look around at the rest of the sides.  Patton was standing over by the spider curtains, which he was definitely going to hate once he realized.  Logan looked rather impatient and unsure.  Roman looked bothered, and Janus looked pensive, but crucially, none of them looked nervous or concerned.  Those emotions came from him, then.  Either that or none of them cared as much about him as he thought they did.

Hopefully it was the first.  That would be more beneficial to what he was trying to do.

“His room sure looks a lot like my living room,” Thomas said, pulling Virgil out of his thoughts.  “I mean what is this, the Upside Down world or something?”

“No,” Logan sighed.  “The room just varies based on whatever your present location is.”

“I don’t see Anxiety,” Roman said, turning to face Janus.  “Are you sure he’s been here when he’s done this before?”

“I was never able to get to his room at all when it was this extreme before,” Janus said as he looked around.  “Usually if I can, that means he’s back.  But it hasn’t even been an hour, I don’t understand what’s different this time.”

Before any of them could try to figure it out, however, Patton yelped, having noticed the patterns on the curtains.  Virgil tuned it out as he tried to focus on what he was supposed to do.

He moved his hands up by face and carefully checked his makeup.  He wasn’t crying, but it felt like a close thing.  His hair was kind of a mess from having pulled it so many times, but he wouldn’t be able to get his brush until Thomas left.  He still wasn’t breathing as well as he’d like to, but now he was just stalling.

Virgil took a deep, stabilizing breath, looked inward to find all of the anger, rational or otherwise, he felt towards the core sides and Thomas, and then reached out and unlocked and opened the door.

“What are you doing in my room?” he screamed, causing all of the other sides to scream too, barring Janus, who was very used to him appearing out of nowhere.

Eventually, they all stopped screaming, and Thomas beamed at him.  “Oh my gosh, Anxiety, I’m so happy to see you!” he called.  “We didn’t think we’d be able to find you since we usually can’t when you disappear or take vacations or whatever it is you do, but now you’re here, which is good cause I kinda need you around right now!”

“Good for you,” Virgil snapped.  “What the hell do you want?”

“Hey, language, kiddo,” Patton said, crossing his arms.

“Wait, what am I wearing?  What is my hair?” Thomas asked, looking down at his disheveled outfit and up at his hair for the first time.

“Welcome back Thomas!” Roman called happily, throwing him a hairbrush that Virgil kind of wished he could borrow.

“Thanks Roman,” Thomas said, tossing the hairbrush aside as he finished with it.  “Look, Anxiety, I know you kind of need a break sometimes, and trust me, I get it.  But I was kind of hoping that maybe since you’ve been working with us a little more now, we could try to work something out?  It’s really hard to make things work without you.  I know we’ve never really talked about that before, but it kind of is, bud.”

Virgil swallowed past the lump in his throat and glared back at Thomas through it.  At least that part wasn’t hard, he’d had a lot of practice.  He didn’t imagine this next part would be fun, though.

“Huh,” he said, flopping down onto the stairs and leaning back casually, as if he didn’t particularly care about what was going on.  “Well, I’m gonna be honest, that sounds like a you problem.”

Thomas blinked.  “What?”

“I mean, like you said, I need a break sometimes.  You all are very annoying, and I can’t handle it all the time.”

“Anxiety,” Patton said, sounding surprised and a little hurt.  “Where’s this coming from?”

Virgil gave Patton a pitying look.  “Oh, sweetheart,” he said.  “Why don’t you hush and let the smart sides talk?”

“What— Anxiety, that was uncalled for!” Roman called, crossing his arms.

Virgil gave Roman a look that hopefully came across as disbelief.  “Wait, are you saying— oh my god, this is too precious.  None of you have put it together yet?”

“Put what together?” Logan said, his voice sounding colder than Virgil had ever heard it, even before they’d started spending time together.  That didn’t sting, not in the slightest.

Virgil managed to brush off the ache with a laugh.  “Oh my god,” he said.  He mimed wiping a tear from his eye as he sat back up.

“You idiots,” he said, grinning around at them.  “I’m not coming back.”

“You… what?” Thomas asked.  “Anxiety, buddy, why are you acting like this all of a sudden?  What’s going on?”

“All of a sudden?” Virgil said with a smirk at him.  “Wow, I really can make you guys forget about years of history that quickly, huh?  I didn’t realize that would work so well.”

Virgil cast his gaze over at Janus, who had been suspiciously silent, and almost broke character for a second at Janus’ face.  He looked pale, and almost like he was going to be sick.  That… why did that hurt?  He hated the stupid side.

“I asked Janus for a favor,” Virgil said, looking away from Janus partly to make it seem like he didn’t care and partly because he couldn’t see his face and keep this up at the same time.  “Janus said no.  So I’m not particularly inclined to help out anymore.”

“Anxiety,” Roman said, his voice and face having picked up quite a bit of anger.  “You can’t do that.”

“Oh?” Virgil said, leaning forward to lean his elbow on his knee and his chin on his elbow.  “What are you gonna do about it Princey?”

“Anxiety, let’s talk about this,” Patton said, sounding a little desperate.  And that didn’t hurt.  It didn’t.  “I thought we were getting along well.”

Virgil couldn’t think of anything else that would be able to keep him from giving up other than overcompensating, so he glared at Patton with all he had.  “You thought I wanted to spend time with a lonely idiot who couldn’t even be bothered to mention to anyone that he felt a little lonely sometimes?  Do you have any idea how pathetic you are?”

“Anxiety,” Roman growled, yanking his sword out.  “I would suggest you apologize, now.”

“Or what?” Virgil snapped, pushing the hurt down, down, down.  “You’ll run off and cry into your pillow about how inadequate you feel?  You know if you’re still thinking about that replacement I think I can help you out pretty soon.”

“Anxiety,” Logan snapped, finally having found his footing in the conversation, though the same couldn’t be said of anyone else at this point.  “I would suggest you back off and stop hurting my family.”

“Oh, please, are you going to rattle off a list of reasons no one else is ever going to acknowledge?  God, you’re all so fucking pathetic.”

Virgil glared down at Janus.  “I am going to give you one more chance, you two-faced piece of shit motherfucker.  You let The Duke come up here.  You let him stay.  Or you can have fun trying to get Thomas through life when he doesn’t fear death.”

“Alright,” Thomas snapped, sudden and furious and piercing and Virgil was fine.

“Alright,” Thomas said, glaring daggers at him.  “You have made your point, Anxiety.  Janus, give him whatever he wants so we can all go home.”

Janus moved his eyes up towards Thomas, looking haunted by most of his life decisions.  Roman on his other side looked rather queasy, and Patton looked shattered and Logan looked faint and Virgil was fine.

Janus looked at Virgil and waved his hand.  There wasn’t anger on his face yet, but Virgil had no doubt it was coming.

“Go get him then,” Janus said weakly.  “And then I want both of you out of our sight as much as physically possible.”

“Trust me, that won’t be hard,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes.  “But if I go back and his room isn’t there I’ll just be coming right back here and we can all do this again.”

For now, though, Virgil wouldn’t be surprised if all of them staying here for much longer would end up being dangerous, so he took a deep breath, grabbed all of them as firmly as he could, and shoved.

They all disappeared out of his room and Virgil was already sinking out to the commons as he aimed them as best he could towards the real world.

He was certain Remus would be right where he left him, but like it or not, he had to make sure his center was okay first.  So he appeared in the commons, where as he expected, none of the others were there, meaning he could open the door to the real world and watch discreetly to make sure everyone was okay.

He opened the door and leaned back against it to hold up his weight, because he probably wouldn’t be able to do it himself right now.  The others had all huddled around the couch in Thomas’ apartment, each looking understandably shaken.

“I didn’t think…” Patton said quietly, and then pressed his head into his hands.

“None of us did, Patton,” Logan said, putting a hand on Patton’s shoulder.  “It isn’t your fault.”

“It’s not any of your faults,” Janus said firmly.  Thankfully, Virgil wasn’t the only one to pick up on the subtext there, because Thomas reached out and squeezed his hand.

“It’s not your fault either, Janus,” he said.

Janus pulled his hand away and covered up the motion by straightening out his cloak.  “I was the one who first warned you that the others are dangerous,” he said.  “It was foolish of me to let my guard down.  I should know better.”

Virgil banged his head back against the door.  Dammit, Janus.  He wasn’t making this easy on himself.

“It’s okay, Janus,” Thomas said.  “None of us saw this coming.  I’m not going to hold you to a different standard than everyone else.”

Janus winced, looking uncertain, and Virgil could see the moment he almost told him.  But he didn’t, choosing instead to just nod.

There was a moment of silence.

“What are we going to do now?” Patton asked quietly.

There was another pause, and then to Virgil’s surprise, Roman stepped forward.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said, giving a firm look around at everyone else and ending on Thomas.  “We just need to stick together.  There’s only going to be two of them.  There will be five of us.  I don’t know about you, but I like those odds.”

Virgil shivered and wrapped his arms around himself.  Time to watch his step around Roman again.

Thomas sighed, and nodded.  “You’re right,” he said.  “And Roman, I… I’m sorry.”

Roman and Virgil both blinked in surprise.

“You tried to tell us there was something suspicious going on,” Thomas said, rubbing the back of his neck.  “But none of us listened, and it just led to problems we could have avoided if we trusted you.  So I’m sorry.”

Logan cleared his throat.  “Yes, I believe this shows some good thinking on your part, Roman,” he said quietly.

There were murmurs of agreement from Patton and Janus, and Roman didn’t seem to know quite what to do with any of that.

“I…” he looked away.  “I don’t want…”

Virgil furrowed his brow in confusion as he watched Roman.  He looked conflicted, and Virgil couldn’t imagine why.  Hadn’t everything he’d thought just been proven right from his perspective?

Finally, Roman just nodded.  “Thank you,” he said.  “I suppose.  But I didn’t want… this.”

“Of course not, Roman, that’s not what we’re saying,” Janus said.  “Obviously none of us wanted this to happen.”

There was one last stretch of silence, and finally Thomas sighed.

“Okay,” he said.  “We’ve all had a very long stressful day, and there’s no doubt going to be more to come.  Janus, you’re probably gonna have to tell us about this new side so we know what to expect.  But for now, let’s all stay here.  I think we all need an easy night.  Let’s have a Disney marathon.”

Virgil sighed and pushed himself up.  Good.  At least they were going to take it easy.  They probably needed it after he just blew up everything in their face.

And now that he was satisfied his center was safe, Virgil could go see the side he actually wanted to see.

He shut the door to the real world and crept over towards The Imagination.

And there, right next to it, was a new door.  A green set of double doors that matched the red ones.

The tension in Virgil’s shoulders rushed out.  That was for another time, but the fact that it had moved from the other commons meant…

Virgil turned around.  Yep, there was Remus’ door, right next to his.  He’d be fine.  He’d be really, honestly fine.

Virgil let out a shaky relieved breath as he headed over to Roman’s doors and pulled them open.  They led right to the clearing he’d told Remus to stay in, and Remus himself was curled in a ball in the middle of the clearing.  He was shaking, and when Virgil walked forward and put a gentle hand on his shoulder, he jumped like a frightened animal.

Virgil picked up the dream journal that he’d left there and wrote “You can stay now.”

“I can?” Remus said weakly, reaching for Virgil’s arm.  “Virgil, we… are we safe now?”

Virgil held back tears and nodded.

“Really, honestly, safe?  You promise?”

Virgil nodded and mouthed “I promise,” which Remus seemed to understand.

“Okay,” Remus said, tears welling up in his own eye.  “Then… can you do me a favor?”

Virgil nodded.  “Of course,” he said, though Remus couldn’t hear it.

“Can… can you kill me?”

Virgil nearly fell over, and he started running his hands through Remus’ hair, already shaking his head, because how was he supposed to do that?

“Please?” Remus managed, tears started to run down his cheek.  “Please, it— it hurts, Virgil.  I’d rather just recover from dying if we’re really safe.”

Virgil squeezed Remus’ arm tightly, mostly trying to ground himself, but Remus wasn’t lying about it hurting, evidenced by how he winced and almost pulled away.

Virgil let go immediately and shifted his hand to gently run along Remus’ face.

“Okay,” he whispered, though he doubted even if Remus could hear him he would have understood the word as it was meant to come out.

He nodded to show Remus what he meant, and the relief on his face was palpable.

“Thank you,” he whispered.  “I’ll make it up to you when I get back.”

Virgil shook his head.  He never had to make anything up to him.

He pulled out his scythe and set it to the side for a second, so he could lean forward and kiss Remus on the forehead.  “I love you,” he whispered.

Then he stood up, so he wouldn’t miss, which was very possible with the way his hands were shaking.

He wasn’t going to be able to do it while looking Remus in the eye, so he raised the scythe, made sure it was angled right over Remus’ neck, and dropped it before he could see anything else.

Remus vanished underneath him, and the second Virgil was sure he was gone he sank out to his room, skipping the commons entirely.  He didn’t want to see Remus’ room missing where it had been just a second ago.

His own room looked like it usually did again, but Virgil couldn’t make it to his bed, instead collapsing back against the door and sliding against it to the ground.  He was shaking all over, and everything in him wanted to go join that Disney marathon happening right now, but he couldn’t.  He’d ruined that, and he’d done it on purpose.

So instead, Virgil flopped onto his side, curled into a ball, and finally broke down.

...

Chapter Nineteen

[forgetmenotblues]

52 in 52 2022

It is a fact universally recognised that the best time to do your book roundup for the year is 4 months into the next year

I kept not getting round to it,then I watched loads of good movies and was gonna do them but I want to stop procrastinating this so I can always edit those in

2022 Books

1)Harrow the Ninth, Tamsyn Muir

This was utterly fantastic. Or at least it was once I googled “should I have any idea what’s going on?” and was reassured that no, no I should not. For some reason I only seem to read the Locked Tomb books when I’m on night shifts, and these books are hard enough to keep up with without being sleep deprived. The book is split into two sections, one of which is a retelling of book 1 but with the main character changed, and one is in second person, with the protagonist being traumatised, lobotomised, schizophrenic, and haunted. There’s murder via soup, there’s a threesome with God, there’s a DIFFERENT threesome with God in which I think every participant is at least 2 or 3 different identities… The Necromancer God Emperor of the Universe makes a None pizza with left beef joke… this book has it all. The ever-ramping up pace where you cannot stop reading because the entire last third is one long ever increasing climax (phrasing) reminds me a lot of Terry Pratchett, just queer and Goth and Kiwi.

2)A Practical Guide to Conquering the World, KJ Parker

The third in the loose trilogy starting with 16 ways to defend a walled city. Similarly quasi-Roman historical fantasy with an amoral con artist getting so out of their depth they end up having to conquer the world in order to stay ahead of the heat… you know what you’re getting with a KJ Parker book. Honestly this one didn’t do it as much for me, I think because I binged KJ Parker in 2021 and when every book is similar it works better reading one per year or so… still an utterly enjoyable read.

3)Fellowship of the Ring

Yeah it’s this pretty indie fantasy series, you probably haven’t heard of it… I went with an audiobook this time around, by Phil Dragash. He uses background music from the Peter Jackson films and models the voices on the actors, while doing the full unabridged novels. It’s a great approach to capture the cinematic feeling of the films with the beauty and complexity of the books. Shockingly enough, an unauthorised audiobook using unauthorised film soundtrack is not legal, so if you want to check this out, archive.org hosts a full version just to teach you the error of your ways.

4)Graham Greene – Destructors and Other Short Stories

I really really thought Graham Greene did like… fun thrillers, kind of James Bond-esque… no idea where I got that from. This was a collection of pretty morose stories, but utterly compelling. There was a very charming post-apocalyptic one with kids gathering blackberries and coming across the wreck of a ship from the before times, there was a very weird kind of dark Narnia story about a man going to his childhood home and finding that the vast forest he remembers getting lost in was actually a small patch of brush, the vast lake he remembers sailing across is basically a muddy pond etc… but then starts to find evidence his more fantastical adventures might have been true. May We Borrow Your Husband is a pretty fantastic, if deeply sad, story about repressed homosexuality in the early 20th century, The Destructors is utterly heart-breaking. Annoyingly, the version I had from the library cut off the ends of some stories, so I had to go hunting for the last few sentences.

5)Invisible Man, HG Wells

I always feel a bit of a prat when I read well known, widely agreed upon classics and go “oh wow, this is actually pretty great, has anyone heard of this… Shakespeare guy?” Well here I am again, having just discovered HG Wells. You’re welcome. I absolutely adored War of the Worlds in 2021, Invisible Man isn’t quite as good, but that’s just because of the very high bar. The whole story is set around my neck of the woods, and the depiction of Sussex folk as a bit simple, but utterly intractable reads incredibly true. There’s also this oddly charming balance between the genuine horror of the idea of a violent man wanting to kill you and how hard it would be to defend yourself if he’s invisible, vs the slightly tongue in cheek way that the invisible man declares himself king of the world, but is consistently laid low by obstacles like… gravel.

6) The Time Machine, HG Wells

Another absolute banger. - a quote I expect to see on the cover of the next edition of the Time Machine. This one I had a predisposition to liking, beyond my growing love of HG Wells, as I often feel I might be the only person in the world who watched, and loved, the early 2000's film adaptation. This is another of those early genre books where it just has such fun with what was at the time a completely novel concept. In a hard to define synesthesia type way, this story is the feeling of walking barefoot on the grass.

7)The Two Towers, Tolkien

It’s very hard to judge, but this might be my favourite book of the trilogy (I know, not a book, not a trilogy etc etc). The Treason of Isengard is utterly fantastic, and probably has the most fun in the whole of Tolkien’s work just bouncing around and introducing us to new places and peoples. The Ring Goes East has yet more fantastic setting and characters, and “Frodo was alive, but taken by the enemy” is one of the strongest cliff-hangers I’ve ever seen.

8)Return of the King, Tolkien

There just isn't much to say about LoTR that hasn't been said a million times before. Its absolutely wonderful. I enjoyed reading this around the time of year it's set, there's a strong seasonal theme I'd never picked up before.

9,10,11) The Blade Itself, Before They’re Hanged, and Last Argument of Kings

I’ve combined these three because they it's very much a story in three parts trilogy. I'd always heard Joe Abercrombie dismissed as straightforward shallow grimdark, so I was blown away by this trilogy. It's a fantastic series, some incredible characters. Spoilers - the overall theme is basically what if gandalf was evil, manipulating the world over his incredibly long life, for the greater good. I adore Jezal as an utterly slimy character propped up as a fantasy hero for the sake of a figurehead, and Logan Ninefingers is the richest take on the wandering badass wolverine type character I've seen. I read these ones mostly on psych night shifts, which were lovely for snug on call rooms and long uninterrupted hours.

12) A Game of Thrones

Again, what is there to say that hasn't been said 8 million times. I run an ASOIAF art blog for crying out loud. So this time I'll just comment on the edition I read - the beautiful folio edition. Very luxuriant, very lovely, though I will admit having a separate map instead of it being in the book itself was kind of frustratingly unwieldy.

13) Elric of Melniboné

One of the big classics of fantasy I've always meant to check out. Sadly so far the most compelling part of the collection has been the Neil Gaiman short story used as an introduction! I do enjoy the stories, they just tend to drag a little in the middle. I think the best way I can put it is that if a story says there will be a quest to 7 dungeons, most will either have a twist or a montage after dungeon 3 or 4, so as to not just repeat the same structure the whole time... Elric stories will give you all 7. Theres a lot of great imagery and it reads very well.

14) Redwall

A classic from my childhood I felt like revisiting. It holds up incredibly well, a nice mix of cutesy woodland creatures having supper with very genuine medieval warfare. It reads like a much older book than it is, and I think the reason is that Matthias is a very classical, almost Nietzchean hero - he's not the hero because he's meek or humble, he's the hero because he's competent, well-liked, and, when he needs to be, utterly ruthless and bloodthirsty.

15) The Red Knight, Miles Cameron

I had really mixed feelings on this one. On the one hand, it's got some incredibly rich worldbuilding, some great Byronic characters, and the author is a world renowned medieval sword fighter and clearly knows his stuff. On the other hand, they mention in the afterword it was inspired by roleplaying campaigns and I think that shows - a lot of fights for the sake of fights that could have been condensed.

16) Art of Garry Gianni

A fantastic artist who does a lot of ASOIAF artwork. He goes for a very picture-book illustrative style that makes the books feel like a half remembered childhood memory of reading tales of king arthur. He also has a lot of more realistic medieval work ie silly looking hats and hosiery, which does a good job of balancing out the all black leather of the tv show.

17) A Knight of the Seven Kingdoms

Clearly I was inspired by the GG artbook!

Lovely as always.

18) The Count of Monte Cristo

Every year, I make great progress in reading lots of books in winter, then as spring starts I get cocky and take on a mammoth book that takes me months. This was this years. I listened to a CC audiobook, which was fantastic, but I only saw 4 parts out of the actual total of 6, so underestimated the overall length. I will say, I thought he was gonna have to really rush his revenge! Again, a hard novel to say anything new about - I loved it. Every single time I read a revenge story I think "I want them all to suffer, I'll never learn that people are complex and revenge ends up hurting innocents and view it in a more nuanced way" and then whaddya know?! I was fairly enjoying it as an "old timey novels ramble a bit sometimes, maybe paid by the word*", but at the end the elements all come back together in a way that gave me chills as I began to see not a word had been wasted.

*I did have a drinking game for every time the exact same life-long description of one character was given, about half a dozen times in one chapter and a few times after. It felt like oral tradition type storytelling.

19) The Hero, Dreamsongs

Okay this is clearly where I panicked about CoMC slowing me down so much and counted short stories as separate. Cheating? Maybe, but the stakes could not be lower. I've bounced off of Dreamsongs a few times as it opens with stories GRRM wrote when he was literally about 6. Which is fascinating from an archival kind of perspective, but doesn't make for the best reads. This is the first of his actually published works, it's about a grizzled space marine type ready to finally retire from the war and see the earth he's been fighting for, who then gets killed by the brass because he's too dangerous to ever actually go back to earth, then written up as a war hero killed in action for further propaganda. Its solid stuff, nothing world shattering, although GRRM did send it in as evidence for his conscientious objector application, so maybe it did change the world!

20) Last Exit to San Breta, Dreamsongs

Basically the question of what would happen to ghost cars in a world where technology has rendered cars obsolete. Again, not revolutionary but very well written.

21) The Second Kind of Loneliness, Dreamsongs

Before each group of stories in dreamsongs, GRRM does a bit of a retrospective. He describes this one as where he really got started and some of his finest work... I dint know if it was just the raised expectations, but it was probably my least favourite. Similar to Moon in some ways, it has someone working at a hyperspace gate counting down to the supply ship coming to relieve him, then panicking as it misses the deadline. As his mental state declines we learn he took this lonely job out of building anxiety after a romantic rejection, and eventually that this panic caused him to destroy the supply ship before the story started and reset his memory, and that this loop may have happened before. Which has some good bones, especially as a parable of incels and the internet, but it does have some feelings of nice guy-ness that isn't just the narrator but the story itself.

22) With Morning Comes Mistfall

On the other hand, I loved this one, which I get the impression is not the most highly rated. Essentially there's a holiday resort planet, it's got pretty lovely mountains and forests, but its main draw is rumours of spectral ghost-like beings. Scientists come to investigate, find that it's all bullshit, people stop coming and the resort fails. It sounds pretty humdrum, and relies on the "mean scientist dislikes enthusiasm and imagination" trope which I hate, but it really sells the love the resort host has for his planet, and the heartbreak of his passion being destroyed. Again in a post internet world, the idea that the planet has beautiful mountains, forests, and seas, but no one would visit for just those because there are planets with perfect sea, perfect mountains, or perfect forests feels very powerful.

23) Song for Lya, Dreamsongs

Another one where high expectations maybe hurt it a bit. A very solid fantasy story about the question of would you go into a state of permanent absolute bliss where you achieve nothing, or stay in real life with ups and downs... or as philosophers call it, the box full of porn and nitrous problem. It was absolutely good, but I've often heard it cited by ASOIAF fans as the best thing ever and it just... wasnt, for me.

24) Tower of Ashes, Dreamsongs

This one fell fairly flat. Quite nice guy-ish in a not fully intentional way, quite intriguing setting but not especially explored.

25) 7 times never kill man, Dreamsongs

This might be my favourite of the lot. Scary space marine death religion comes up against little ewok type creatures, the protagonist tries to train the ewoks up, 7 samurai style, and then... the ewoks/ the planet-wide consciousness is able to manipulate the death cult religion into becoming a suicide cult, and possibly every religion in the galaxy was seeded by this planet as an immune response style defence against potential attackers? If I'm remembering right? Genuinely creepy and haunting, I kept mulling this one over for a long long time. This is basically the gritty reboot of James Cameron's Avatar, way ahead of time.

26) Stone City, Dreamsongs

Another that didnt massively work for me, nothing terrible and some cool concepts, but just didnt really spark anything for me personally.

27) Bitterblooms, Dreamsongs

Another major contender for my favourite of the collection. A LOT of ASOIAF DNA in this one, with decade long winters roamed by the undead, X of House Y titles, a lot of familiar names. The story itself has a sort of twisted Doctor Who plot, a person from the ASOIAF-esque planet finds a spaceship, and is seemingly whirled around the galaxy on an adventure but can only look out the window from within the ship, eventually it turns out the ship is broken down and hasn't moved, and they were just watching record logs on the windows.

28) Princess and Mr Whiffle, Patrick Rothfuss

I took a break from Dreamsongs to read... a short story by an acclaimed fantasy author with a long delayed finale to their subversive fantasy epic! This is a fun book, with a good reading by Rothfuss on youtube, I'd thoroughly recommend. It seems like a slightly dark childrens story, then turns out to be a very dark regular story. It's worth watching the youtube reading as he also explains his thought process, honestly it's made me a little less optimistic regarding kkc as it has a slight vibe of a "technically I didnt lie to you" twist...

29) Interview with a Vampire, Anne Rice

I've spent a good part of my life goth-adjacent, I grew up on Buffy and have a real love for all things vampire, so this was always on my horizon. I was put off by Anne Rices whole... vibe online, and everything I heard about "well by book 17, it's mostly about the war between the Atlanteans and Hell". I cant speak for any of that, but the first book was everything its hyped up to be. Lovely slow moody southern gothic. From everything I know about Anne Rice's personal politics, I do wonder if shes one of those authors who sort of backed into being a queer icon by trying to depict the worst thing she could imagine, that being just... a queer relationship.

30) Hamnet, Maggie O'Farrell

This was one of those very book club type books you see everywhere for a while... I didn't love it. The idea is to tell the #feministretelling of Shakespeare's life by focusing on his wife, and what she went through when their son Hamnet died and he wrote a play called Hamlet. The issues are: a) it buys into the whole witchy cottagecore vibe with Anne Hathaway being pretty explicitly descended from the Fair Folk and having magic healing powers, which I think shoots the whole 'women were an important part of history and deserve to have their stories told' stone dead, as it suggests said stories are so boring they need literal elf magic to make them worth telling; and b) that it still fundamentally fails in that I spent most of the book going "wonder what old Billy boy's up to" the scraps we get of him are way more interesting.

31) Sherlock Holmes, The Empty House

The other big short story selection I read this year - most of the SH bibliography. I didnt realise until starting out that the vast majority of SH was short stories, and there were only 4 full length novels. The only one I'd read prior was Hound of the Baskervilles. I'll touch on the stories briefly then give a longer wrap up.

Not sure why I started with this one, it's the one where SH comes back to life after the Reichanbach falls. I don't know if there was a lower bar for what counted as mysterious back then, but basically: the guy is found with a bullet in his head in a locked room. The window is open. No one heard a shot. It turns out... he was shot through the window with a silencer. Like... I get ACD was practically writing under duress, but it feels pretty fucking phoned in.

32) SH, The Devils Foot

Again, the mystery here is: 3 people are found in a room, 2 insane and 1 dead, having been left perfectly well. The solution: theres a magical mushroom from Darkest Africa™ that makes people insane or die when burned and inhaled. I don't know if I'm coming at SH with the wrong attitude, but I continued to find the 'mysteries' pretty underwhelming. This one gets 1 bingo point for 'never previously described technology/item from The Colonies™ that solves the whole mystery but has never previously been established" (see the silenced air gun in the empty house actually), but also wins a point for "Sherlock decides the murderer is a pretty legit dude and just let's him go".

33) SH Abbey Grange

Another with the "Sherlock decides the murderer is a pretty legit dude and just let's him go" plot - honestly my favourite part of reading Sherlock Holmes, and very interesting to compare to modern copoganda shows with their "cool motive, still murder" attitude, especially as so many police procedural end with "well, you were right to fight against the wildly unjust system, but you did a crime so we have to arrest you. Deal with the unjust system? Nah, not my department mate "

34) SH The Speckled Band

The mystery: 2 heiresses live with their evil uncle. One dies in the room next to his, her last words "the speckled band". The other is moved into the same room and fears she'll be killed next. Sherlock finds that the bed is bolted in place directly under a vent joining to the uncle's room. It turns out the uncle pushed a venomous snake through the vent.

That's not a fucking mystery!!! I'm not even a big whodunnit person, but if you have heiresses killed, obviously their last living relative is doing it. Also the story spends the whole time telling you he's evil through details like "he let's romani travellers stay on his land"... oh yeah, this story hella racist. So maybe it's not meant to be a whodunnit but more of a howdunnit... except the second you hear "she died in the room next to his, then he moved me to that room, and theres a vent in the adjoining wall"... there's no mystery! The snake is a nice orientalist touch, but wouldn't be fundamentally different to evil mushroom gas or anything else. Incidentally she said "the speckled band", describing the drake's characteristic feature, as her last words instead of "uncle murdered me" or "snake vent, beware!" because [explanation not found].

It also gets a bingo point for "needlessly dark John Watson framing device that renders the whole story pointless" - it opens with "I can now tell this story because the last living person involved in it is now dead" - the sister they saved is the only survivor, so I guess after all that she just got his by a fuvking bus or something.

So at this point I thought, boy, this is unfortunate, 64 sherlock holmes stories, of course there would be some stinkers, what are the odds I'd exclusively pick them. So i looked it up. The speckled band is considered the best sherlock holmes story, ACDs favourite, critically acclaimed. At this point, it's safe to say I'm just not clicking with Sherlock Holmes.

35) Meathouse Man, Dreamsongs

In a dystopian future, neural mindlinks are used to make corpses into cheap labour, with one person puppeteering several corpses in dangerous environments. The corpses are also used as sex workers.

So yeah, it's pretty nasty. It's got some great dystopian imagery of giant industrial machines strip mining whole planets, and it Mark's the point where GRRM starts to really interrogate some of his nice guy-isms into dark, insightful takes on toxic masculinity.

36) Hound of the Baskervilles

As I said, this was the only SH I'd previously read, and I remembered it being pretty good! That had been when I was a kid, and all these short stories had sucked so bad... was I just misremembering? Fortunately, no! HotB is exactly what you want from a Sherlock Holmes story, great setting, cast of possible suspects all of whom are more than they appear... this is one of those cases where the best known work is best known for a reason.

37) A Study in Scarlet, SH

Decided to see if it was just a case of SH novels > short stories, and read the first novel. The first half or so is pretty classic SH fare, with a London murder, mysterious clues written in blood, footprint analysis etc etc and then... the entire 2nd half of the novel is a fucking western. We get the whole life story of a guy in a wagon train, sets up a life with Mormons, gets hunted down by murderous mormon death squads... and then in the last 2 pages, we jump back to London with a "and that's why he murdered this guy". Love it. I genuinely checked a few times to make sure I hadnt got a messed up copy of the book spliced with Mormon Murder Cowboys.

38) Arthur and the Seeing Stone, Kevin Crossley-Holland

The first of a wonderful trio of arthurian novels. They contrast the mythological arthur with a historically accurate young noble called Arthur in ~1200, with parallels between the mythological arthur and his counterpart that serve to highlight the historical context for the arthurian mythos and why these stories mattered to people. They're ostensibly childrens books and I first read them as a kid, but there's a lot of value to an adult reread.

39) The Final Problem, SH

The one where ol Holmes-y dies. Its shocking the extent to which ACD was clearly just ready to be done. Sherlock pops up, says "btw all of our cases were masterminded by an evil genius, I've never mentioned him before but he's so bad that it wouldnt be the worst thing if I died fighting him" and then whaddya know! It's very fun to me because I remember the trend of superhero comics killing off their heroes and the exact same writing tropes were in play - I've never mentioned this before but I have a really ultra mega serious nemesis.

40) Valley of Fear, SH

Another of the full length Holmes novels, and weirdly enough has the same structure - half a pretty standard SH mystery, second half a shockingly long largely unrelated story in America that leads to a 2 page "and that led into this mystery" denouement. It also has Moriarty awkwardly shoehorned into the story to retcon him into being a serious threat, which it does by some other top class SH bingo tropes - Watsons narration ending with "oh btw, the characters of this story fell off a ship like 4 months later".

41) Elric, Fortress of the Pearl - Moorcock

I'm starting to worry Elric might just not be for me. Theres some fun stuff in here, and a very conan-esque vibe. The issues are that of the 2 I've read, Elric is such a powerful character that the only route to drama is having him be suicidal apathetic until he's almost done for, then suddenly snapping to and fighting back out of the abyss. Secondly, I've mentioned before that Moorcock is not one to cut corners. There are 7 or 9 or 12 magical dream realms described to traverse, so he traverses them each in turn. There's no deviation from this pattern once its planned out, just plodding on through.

42) Beyond the Deepwoods, Paul Stewart & Chris Riddell

The 1st of the Edge Chronicles, a series I read piecemeal bits of when I was a kid and always stayed with me. Extremely creative and grotesque, with lots of bulbous and oozing creatures brought to life by Riddells signature style. This first book has a very fairytale structure with the protagonist essentially running into some new creature each chapter and escaping by the skin of his teeth. This gives it a lovely simplicity, the later books get a bit more into fantasy worldbuilding which has pros and cons.

43) Smoke and Mirrors, Neil Gaiman

Collection of short stories, if I was being consistent these should be separate like the GRRM and Sherlock Holmes ones but it's my list. Also some of these were like 2 pages and I couldn't justify counting that to myself.

Chivalry - one of Gaimans best known, a little old lady finds the grail at a charity shop, Galahad tries to get it off her. I liked it more this time around, but I still find the old lady a bit too mean.

The disappearance of miss finch - this is one my favourite of the many many Gaiman stories of "you go to a circus/magic show and it turns out to be real" - this one gets the balance of the person "deserving" it better, and a pleasant impression they're happier for it after all.

Bay Wolf - probably my favourite of the collection. Beowulf as a futuristic noir detective episode of baywatch. Grendel is a steroid junkie called Grand Al. Top notch stuff.

Murder Mysteries - another fantastical noir detective story, this time about an angel created to solve the first murder. Manages to combine classic noir elements with theological questions shockingly deftly.

Snow Glass Apples - one of my absolute favourite Gaiman stories. Theres a tumblr post that makes the rounds every few years about "hey snow white is deathly pale with ruby red lips and spends a long time seemingly dead in a coffin before waking... vampire?" and every time I dutifully comment that this exact story exists and is fantastic.

44 Stormchaser

Book 2 of the deepwoods books, this is where the series turns more towards steampunk fantasy worldbuilding. On the plus side, this is fascinating well written world, on the other... it's pretty fucking grim. Which is weird to say about a series written for children, but its genuinely quite depressing. Poverty, exploitation, mutilation etc... I had to take a break after this trilogy as there was a repeating pattern of introducing a likeable memorable crew of misfits and outcasts, then killing them all off one by one.

45 Midnight over Sanctphrax

This one is less grim in itself, but it ends with a "and the adventure continues" hook, and I remember from the sequel books that it continues into misery, despair, and most of the cast dying of dysentery. Again - grim!

46) Into The Narrowdark, Tad Williams

Book 3 of the new Osten Ard series. One of the best fantasy books I've read since ASOIAF. There was a part where I couldn't stop reading until I discovered one characters fate, even though that was about 400 pages. There was a reveal that made me swear at the book and walk away, just to come straight back.

47) This is How You Lose the Time War

A very fun short novel about opposite agents of battling time travelling agencies who start to write each other encoded gloating messages (encoded in the rings of wood of a tree one agent will cut down to build Genghis Khans trebuchets to change history, for example), and gradually fall in love. Very poetic and beautifully written.

48) Fire and Blood, GRRM

Gave this one another read, inspired by how much I enjoyed HotD. I think the first read I went in with very low expectations which gave it an edge, this time around I knew it wouldnt be terrible so less of a pleasant surprise and I noticed more of the... issues. That said, HotD showed me how some of the seemingly flat characters can actually be rich and nuanced. One in particular I wonder about is Jahaerys, who makes a lot of sense as a potentially great person with rot at the foundations - if he knows that at some level he only has power by usurping his cool lesbian sister, all his misogyny makes sense as a retroactive justification. Because honestly on this reread, he seemed like a Shittier dude than Maegor.

49) Fairy Tale, Stephen King

A take on the Narnia style portal fantasy by the one and only Stephen King. This was a thoroughly enjoyable read, not necessarily a world shaking masterpiece but recaptured the feeling of being a kid and getting utterly engrossed in a story. You can definitely tell Kings age by how he writes his teenage protagonist - he conveniently only watches the classic movie channel so can only quote films from Kings reference pool, there's some pretty realistic sections of him doing home repair by watching youtube videos but keeps calling it The Tube... its very sweet and endearing. As is classic with King, he's so good at writing day to day life you almost dont want the fantasy elements to start, but once they do they're so fun you wished they'd shown up sooner.

50) Arthur at the Crossing Place

Book 2 of the seeing stone trilogy. The trilogy is fairly classic 2 part trilogy, with part 1 working as a very standalone novel, while part 2 is mostly set up for part 3. However, theres a lot of good material, lovely prose, and well worth reading.

51) Dracula (daily) Bram Stoker

A certified 2022 phenomenon. This was a huge amount of fun, parcelling out Dracula chronologically, letting a whole fandom form, having dramatic long hiatus and bursts of action. I also love matching stories to their chronology, as I mentioned with LOTR, which would be very suited to this same format. I've read dracula before, this definitely enhanced my enjoyment. In my memory theres a real drop after the Jonathan Harker diary, but this format a) acknowledged that by having the long hiatus and b) overcomes that and makes the latter part of the story feel much more significant.

52) Arthur King of the Middle March

The third part of the trilogy. This one focuses on the disastrous Fourth Crusade, where half the people who had RSVPd didnt show up, leaving the ones who did with an enormous bill for more ships than they could use, which Venice agreed they could pay off by attacking Venices enemies... who were other Christians. This allows the conceit of contrasting the real world chivalry knights with the idealised Arthurian round table to come to a head, fantastically showing the moral decay and sense of stagnation as they occupy and loot their ostensible brothers in christendom. The book came out in 2003, but has incredibly on point vibes of the Iraq war as a whole... although I suppose the issue here is that the crusaders never even reached the middle east.

[halfofanorange]

Continuing about Moving On: the moment when Thomas softly says "falsehood" when Logan is gone to show that his influence is still there gets me like,,, emotional for some reason. The moment when Thomas says "things to learn" and we get a shot of Logan's empty spot, too. And when they come back from Patton's room and are so happy to see him again! My heart 🫶🏻🫶🏻

Roman realizing his errors, apologizing and reassuring Thomas that where he is in life is where he needs to be!! Virgil knowing from the very beginning that going to Patton's room was a bad idea and his silent communication with Logan when Thomas's anxiety was starting to spike!! The others first pushing the idea that Patton is just all positive feelings but in the end Thomas and Patton work together to accept that sadness and other difficult feelings are part of Patton's job too and also important!! I think the writing of this episode is truly some of the best in the series 🙏🏻

Continuing from this post but moving onto season two on my full Sanders Sides rewatch:

The hogwarts houses episode isn't a favorite for various reasons (fuck jkr and tbh the houses have always been a pretty silly personality typing system to me) but I do still think Virgil could fit into either ravenclaw or hufflepuff and the reasons he dismisses them are mostly just because of his low self-esteem. Also I love the outfit update and Thomas's purple hair era!

Moving On is such a good episode oh my god!! Every character gets a dose of angst and the way they tackle the difficult subject just really resonates with me. I could talk about all of their arcs within this one single episode for ages!

[inagetawaycarxo]

Hi! how have you been? hope you have been well! I have a request n was wondering if you could do if the usos had a twin sister n was also a wrestler?

Can it be angst to fluff where the reader also had a money in the bank match but lost and she thinks that she’s useless because it was very important match for her n she let down everyone n they reassure her she didn't? I just need some fluff in my life since I'm sad half the time😭

imagine is down below the keep reading tag!💜

Never A Disappointment| The Usos [Usos!Reader]

Pairings: Jey Usos x Sibling!Reader, Jimmy Usos x Sibling!Reader.

Featuring: Liv Morgan, Y/n, Jey Usos, Jimmy Usos, Roman Reigns [mentioned]

Summary: Jey and Jimmy cheer up their sister after she losses

WARNINGS: fluff, errors I missed.

w/c: 355

a/n: REQUESTS ARE OPEN! FEEDBACK IS EXTREMELY APPRECIATED!

Your back was pressed against the padded barricade. Tears pooling in your eyes. Lip quivering as you saw Liv holding the money in the Bank briefcase.

It was supposed to be you, but you failed. You felt useless as well as the fact that you failed your brothers and your bloodline.

You couldn’t watch Liv any longer, so, you got up. Wincing in pain. You limped up the ramp, then to the curtain.

Once you went through the curtain, you saw your brothers waiting for you. You immediately burst into tears. They quickly rushed over to you. Jey and Jimmy wrapped their arms around you. Hugging you tightly.

“It’s okay, sis,” Jimmy spoke in a soothing voice.

“You don’t need some stupid money in the Bank briefcase, we can just demand a match for you,” Jey suggested. Trying to make you feel better about your loss.

“I let you guys down, I’m useless,” You sobbed.

Jimmy and Jey shared a look. Hearts aching at your words.

Why would you think like that, you could never let them down? Yes, you lost but it wasn’t the end of the world. Roman could easily get you another shot, sure he would give you a lecture, but he wouldn’t give you the silent treatment.

“We aren’t disappointed in you,” They both spoke. Making you look up. Sniffling. Tears were still in your eyes.

“We could never be disappointed in you,” Jey spoke. Making you slightly smile.

“Roman is,” You sniffled out.

“He will live,” Jey spoke.

“What matters is that we would never be disappointed in you and that you aren’t a failure,” Jimmy spoke.

“Besides, you will get another shot, we just have to wait till liv cashes in, then pounce,” Jey spoke. Making you smile at your brothers.

“This is just a setback,” Jimmy reassured you.

“Then you can go for the RAW women’s championship,” Jey spoke.

“Imagine this, Y/n Usos the undisputed woman’s champion,” Jimmy spoke. Eyes wide with excitement, Jey hyped him up.

All your worries washed away as your brothers hyped you up. You just hoped Roman didn’t banish you for your loss…

[beauty-and-passion]

@theepsizet​ Actually, I've talked about this theme several times, but not in a specific post and not in a fully comprehensible way. So, well, I suppose this is the post where I will do it :D

I believe Logan is very, VERY disappointed in Thomas. The seeds were planted long ago, from season one: Logan has always been the first one to tell Thomas he should get "a real job" and he talked about his decision to change his career with visible frustration and regret:

[Logan]: So many years of chemical engineering and science that you decided to flush down the metaphorical toilet. (Moving On - part 1)

So yes, Logan isn't happy with Thomas' decision. And we can easily understand why: a chemical/mathematical career would've involved logic a lot more, if compared to a more emotional/creative career such as acting.

And maybe, that's how it was. Maybe Logan was the most involved Side, when Thomas was a chemical engineer. Now Roman is the Side in the driver's seat (as he said in POF), but maybe Logan had that role before the career switch.

This could explain a lot of things, like why Logan is so bitter and resentful, why he's so unable to work with Roman and so on.

Still, this can explain why Logan is bitter, but why is he THIS bitter? Why is he still holding that grudge, after all this time?

I think the reason is Thomas himself and how he handled the whole situation during the career switch.

To put it simply: he didn’t. I firmly believe that Thomas didn’t confront Logan at all, nor reassured him. He just took the decision by himself, without involving Logan the slightest.

And this is why I also believe that, if Thomas did everything right, Logan wouldn’t feel like this. All Thomas had to do was involve Logan in this decision - maybe alongside with Roman, to show them they are both important and they can keep being important, by working together. Despite not being in the driver’s seat anymore, Logan would still feel useful and appreciated, because Thomas would keep listening to him during this new part of his life.

But, as we can see from canon, Thomas barely listens to Logan. Most of the time, he just completely ignores him.

And this led to two very important reactions from Logan:

1) A subconscious desire to be heard, to be noticed, to be loved. By ignoring him during that important moment, Thomas hurt Logan. He made him feel unimportant and useless, even though he was the one in the driver’s seat so - theoretically - the first Side Thomas should turn to.

And so, in order to not feel that pain again, Logan desperately tries to be listened to, to prove Thomas he’s here, he exists, he can help. Thomas can talk to him. Because if he talks to him, then Logan won’t be ignored again. He won’t be the last Side to know.

2) A very human anger and passive-aggressiveness. Unlike Roman whose vanity is just fake, Logan knows he’s important. He has a high consideration of himself. He was the one in the driver’s seat. And despite all of that, Thomas just ignored him while taking such a heavy decision? As if he wasn’t as important as he is?

He’s angry, of course. But he’s also a very controlled Side so, instead of expressing his anger by lashing out or with other theatrical ways, he chose the most subtle and hurtful way possible: passive-aggressiveness. And he’s so damn good at it.

The most recent update of this is Logan’s new drinking habit. If he was mostly frustrated at first, he’s relying on wine a lot more in the last episodes. And even though we can all collectively agree that he cannot get drunk, it’s still very sad that he relies on alcohol this much to keep himself calm and collected.

This is a still recent development, so we still have to see how Thomas will talk about it. But if he does it like I think he will, alcohol can become the next means for Logan to get everyone’s attention.

And, this time, he might succeed. It’s just so evident someone has to notice. And when the others do, then Thomas will. Who knows, maybe he will try to help Logan, because oh no, drinking so much is bad for your health, why you’re doing this, it’s not good.

And this, this could be the last straw. What will make Logan snap. After years and years of trying to get Thomas' attention, after years of showing that he's not okay, after he did everything to be noticed and listened to, Thomas notices it just now? Now he cares, while he never cared before? Not when he didn’t tell Logan about the career switch, not when he ignored him for years, not when he flushed so many years of chemical engineering and science “down the metaphorical toilet”? Just now? And only because of alcohol?

The conversation could be very heavy. And I would love it. I want Logan to bring dark themes, to talk about frustration and anger and how this kind of pain can’t ever be fully healed. I don’t want a happy ending.

And while we’re bringing anger on the table, I also would like Orange to be not Logan’s enemy, but his ally. I want him to add fuel to Logan’s internal turmoil, to make it explode: this would make Orange  appear as a bad guy, while he’s actually helping Logan finally release years of accumulated tensions.

In the end, Orange will have the dark sides’ typical arc (looks/acts/seems like a bad guy -> he’s actually a helpful boy) and Logan will have a resolution that won’t be happy and joyful. As I said, I want a bittersweet ending. I want Thomas to finally give Logan that confrontation he deserved. I want Logan to calm down and finally understand Thomas’ decision. And I want him to not fully forgive Thomas, because what happened in that career switch will always leave a mark on him. Still, I want them to learn. And I want them to grow up, mature, accept themselves and love themselves a lot more.

[forever-emo-phase]

Mission Status: Sick!

Notes: Hello this is my first fic for Sanders Sides! It is inspired by @illogicallyinclined​‘s hockey AU! If you haven’t ever gotten into it, do it! However, you can still read even if you don’t know anything about the AU! Characters: Virgil, Logan

Ship: The whole thing is pretty much just analogical pining Warnings: Panic attack is described Genre: Just guys being dudes being gay. Fluff maybe? It’s not sad and that’s all I can tell you. Summary: Which is how Virgil arrived at his current situation, Logan tensely sitting at his desk in the middle of the night with shoulders so tight he looked like he was seconds away from shattering.

'It's a good thing that my homosexuality is stronger than my pride', Virgil thought as he opened a capri sun and violently squeezed it onto his sheets.

Check it out on Ao3 here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/33804841

Anxiety sucks. Virgil’s nails are always bitten down to the quick, hands never still, and the insides of his cheeks chewed and raw. If Virgil had to find a bright side, it would have to be his ability to read people. With just a look, Virgil could tell by the slump of his shoulders when Roman needed a little bit of extra praise. He would notice the redness around Patton’s eyes and know that he would need more company than normal. 

But the one person Virgil prided himself on seeing was Logan. It was almost second nature for him to sense the tension in Logan’s shoulders without even looking, he could almost feel it in the air. He could see when Logan needed to get out of his head and stop pushing himself before he broke. 

Dealing with Logan’s emotions, however, was slightly harder. If his approach was too physical, like he would approach Patton, Logan would withdraw. If he tried to take the same approach he would with Roman, showering compliments tempered with a light bit of teasing, Logan would get uncomfortable and retreat.

Which is how Virgil arrived at his current situation, Logan tensely sitting at his desk in the middle of the night with shoulders so tight he looked like he was seconds away from shattering.

'It's a good thing that my homosexuality is stronger than my pride', Virgil thought as he opened a capri sun and violently squeezed it onto his sheets. 

The thing with Logan is that he doesn’t care about himself. He will push himself to his limit and keep going, but, if someone else needs something? He will help as much as he can, even though sometimes it may not be overly obvious that he is helping.

“Hey Logan?” Virgil says from across the room, staring at his now soaked bedding. 

“Yes, Virgil?” Logan doesn’t look up from his computer as he sharply replies. For a moment Virgil wonders if this scheme was the best idea, it could fail horribly and Logan could be angry and refuse. But, the wheels were already in motion, his sheets were already wet, and there was no turning back.

“I fucked up.” He said plainly, watching as Logan’s head turned so fast to look at him that he was surprised that he didn’t hear a crack. Realizing how ominous his statement was, Virgil raised his hands and quickly spat out a placating “No it’s okay i’m fine!”

Logan let out a sigh before replying “What did you manage to do that was so dramatic that it required that statement, while I was sitting in the same room, only a handful of feet away from you?”

“Well…” Virgil started, choosing his words very carefully to make sure his plan could not fail. “I was panicking a little bit while I was drinking my Capri Sun and I squeezed it a little bit too hard. It spilled on my sheets and my bed is soaked now.” 

Logan’s eyes assessed Virgil, making him momentarily wonder if his lie was believable. Did his dishonesty show on his face? Was Logan about to get angry and yell at him? His hands began to shake slightly and his breathing picked up and, he thought wryly, at least now he wasn’t lying about being anxious. His fears were eased when he saw the slight softening of Logan’s face. 

“Oh Virgil,” Logan huffed out, his face morphing into an expression of fond exasperation, “You need to stop having drinks in your bed, especially ones of the extremely spillable and sugary type.”

Virgil shrugged, “It is what it is, you know?”

“It does not have to be the way that it is?” Logan said with a hint of confusion sneaking into his voice. “You can very easily change the circumstance.”

A small chuckle escaped from Virgil as he watched his roommate struggle to wrap his head around the statement. Logan was extremely smart, that was obvious, but watching him puzzle out modern slang and sayings struck Virgil as endearing every time. “It’s too late to change it now, you know?”

“You are correct.” Logan intoned and Virgil could already see some of the tension leaving Logan’s shoulders as he began to relax during the conversation. “Do you have a plan for drying your bedding before it is time for you to sleep?”

“Not at all.” Virgil said as he absentmindedly brought his hand to his mouth to bite his nails, but stopped as Logan let out a soft click of his tongue as a reprimand. As he lowered his hand, he absent-mindedly wondered if Logan was even aware that he had made the sound. Either way, Virgil found it incredibly sweet. “I’ll probably just sleep on the floor. My pillow is dry.”

Virgil made a show of picking up his pillow and feeling around for a dry blanket so that he could make a temporary bed on the floor, however, he was quickly interrupted.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Logan scolded lightly, “You can sleep in my bed. I will be up for a significant while longer doing work, it is no problem at all.”

Everything was falling into place for Virgil and he had to resist the urge to steeple his fingers together like a Bond villain. But his work was not finished, there was still one more task- Get Logan In The Bed.

“Dude no!” He exclaimed, “I’m not taking your bed! You’ve gotta sleep at some point!”

“Virgil,” Logan sighed, “I have a lot of work to do that I need to get done soon. I was actually planning to get up and pour myself some more coffee.”

Shit. If Logan got caffeine into his system, it was game over. His plan would fail and he would just be in Logan’s bed, and while that wouldn’t be the worst thing, it was not the plan. Panicking, he blurted out a quick “No!”

“No?” Logan said with a raised eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

‘Now or never’ Virgil thought to himself, before delivering the line that had inspired the whole plot.

“I wouldn’t feel okay with taking your bed, just in case you decided to sleep. Could we just share for the night?”

Logan looked puzzled, “I suppose, but I have already told you that I am not necessarily planning on sleeping tonight.”

“I know but.. I would feel bad.” Virgil said, his anxiety rising now that he was this far into the plan and there was truly no turning back. “Could you just… Would you just lay down for a minute? It would make me feel better.”

Judging by Logan’s expression, Virgil was convinced that he had lost Logan. His plan had failed and he felt a burn of shame in his chest, clenching his eyes shut. God he was so stupid! He should have just refused the offer to take Logan’s bed and slept on the floor! He should have not even tried this stupid plan! Virgil had not noticed his breathing picking up and his fingernails burying themselves into his palms as his thoughts spiraled into a pit of anxiety. He had not noticed until Logan’s voice washed over him.

“Virgil?” He said, somehow both softly and with authority. “Name five things you can see.” Virgil pried his eyes open, not really remembering when he had closed them. “Bed. Computer. Shoes. Water bottle. Posters.”

Logan nodded his head, with a small smile. “You are doing very well. Now four things you can touch.”

“Uhhh…” Virgil hesitated, eyes darting to Logan, “Sheets. Pants. My hair. Wet blanket.”

“Good job. Three things that you can hear now.” 

“Your voice. The air conditioner. Our obnoxious neighbors.” His breathing had started to slow and he could feel his body relaxing.

“Two things you can smell, you’re almost there.”

“Capri sun from my sheets and your disgusting coffee.”

“Last thing, one thing you can taste.” 

“Toothpaste.” With his breathing regulated and feeling calmer, Virgil smiled wryly back at Logan. “I’m sorry. That was… sudden.”

“You are perfectly fine. I have reassured you multiple times that I do not mind helping you.” Logan said soothingly. “Why don’t we go lay down? You are typically quite tired after these events.”

“Yeah… that sounds good.” Virgil said as he stood to move to Logan’s bed, straightening his sleep pants and he went. “Do… are you going to lay down too?”

Logan hummed, walking to his laptop to shut the lid, as well as flipping the main lights in the room off.  “Yes I suppose that I can for a moment. Just to assure you that I do not mind that you are in my bed.”

Virgil lifted the sheets of the bed and crawled under, scooting over so that he was next to the wall, leaving space for Logan to enter. “Alright. I promise I won’t keep you too long.”

“Well.” Logan said as he joined Virgil under the sheets, “I, in all honesty, could use the sleep.”

Virgil smiled at Logan with a soft “Good night then.”

“Good night Virgil.” Logan whispered, reaching up to turn off the light next to his bed, plunging them both into darkness.

The next time Virgil opened his eyes, the sun was shining through the window of the room and his head was resting on Logan’s shoulder. One of Logan’s strong arms was wrapped across Virgil and Virgil could hear Logan’s soft breathing against his ear.

Slowly reaching into his pocket so as to not disturb Logan, Virgil pulled out his cellphone, which was at 9%, and quickly snapped a picture before sending it to Remy with a simple caption.

“Mission accomplished.”

 (And that is the end! Feedback is very appreciated!)

[delimeful]

Snapshot: Cleanse

snapshots: a new compilation of mini-fics taking place in the WIBAR universe! this one takes place a few days after Making Adjustments!

warnings: none! Whoops, All Fluff!

-

It was a few days after the Breakfast Ceasefire that Virgil decided enough was enough.

He needed a shower. Badly.

It didn’t matter that he was on an alien ship full of alien stuff, or that showering meant temporarily ditching the comfort of his hoodie, or even that two out of three aliens would probably happily see him dead at any opportunity.

He had picked up what felt like an entire football field’s worth of dirt, mud, and other muck while him and Patton were planet-hopping, and impromptu washcloth (read: a patch torn from the back of his shirt) cleaning sessions had only done so much. They only came across clean water every so often, anyhow. Most of it couldn’t be wasted on washing.

Patton had picked up on his discomfort back then— that or the smell— but the Ampen’s idea of ‘cleaning up’ was very similar to that of chinchillas’ back home on Earth: dust baths. That’s right. More dirt.

(Yes, he’d rolled around in the dirt with his friend. Contrary to popular interstellar belief, he wasn’t a monster.)

Still, it was time to come clean. Literally and metaphorically.

Patton had spent last night cuddled up to him, which meant that he had actually gotten a full eight hours of sleep (good!) and that Roman was probably sulking around (ungood!). The sense of clarity that came with not being quite so horrendously sleep deprived only made him more aware of how dirty he was. It felt like heresy to even touch any of the numerous well-sanitized surfaces in the ship.

“Patton,” he called, once the Ampen had started doing those little antennae twitches that meant he was half-awake. “Can you show me the wash room?”

The response was a little delayed, but eventually Patton startled into full wakefulness with a little chirp-peep that reminded him of a computer startup noise.

From there, he was led down the circular halls to a square room that sort of resembled a locker room shower area, complete with drainage grates in the floor. There was a ledge along one side of the room that led up to a windowbox-like protrusion, and Virgil could see from here that it was full of soft, beige dirt.

Patton paused, visibly turning his head from Virgil to the washbox, as though measuring things out in his mind.

“That’s probably too small for you, huh?”

Virgil stopped him before he could start making plans for a human-sized sandbox. “Uh, actually, Pat, I need water to wash.”

“Oh!” Patton exclaimed, more surprised than disconcerted. “Well, water we doing over here then?”

Virgil couldn’t hide a smile, and Patton crinkle-smiled back at him before waving him over to the opposite end of the room. He pointed up, where there were little circular discs with a grid of tiny holes set into the wall. “Here you go! Roman uses these to help with his slough, or when he gets particularly rough and tumble down on planetside!”

… Great. Odds were borrowing his shower was probably going to make Roman even more homicidal towards him. Virgil decided to worry about that later. For now, he was faced with the biggest challenge of them all: figuring out how a friend’s shower knobs worked.

Surprisingly, it seemed like the panel set into the wall below each disc worked similarly to the other touchscreens he’d seen set into the control room of the ship. Unsurprisingly, they were all labeled with the written form of Common, which meant he had about zero chance of figuring it out on his own.

Patton noticed his blank stare and patted at his knee, and Virgil squatted down easily so the undersized alien could clamber onto his shoulder. He rose up, and Patton’s little claws scrambled for purchase for a moment before he caught his balance, Virgil tense with preparation to twist and catch him if he fell.

“This little icon has the symbol for on, and this is how you get it hot or cold,” he chirped, leaning forwards to point at the screen for emphasis. Virgil obligingly shifted closer, trying to commit the guidance to memory. “You’re a little squisher than Roman, so you should probably change the pressure, too.”

Once he’d shuffled around so he was sure neither of them were about to get slammed by a jet of water, he tapped the power button.

A three-note chime played as a sort of countdown, and water shot out of the disc, at what was probably the appropriate pressure to powerwash muck from under tightly-packed scales. Virgil pushed the slider down until he could put his hand under without feeling any sting from the water’s impact. Then, he cranked the temperature up until it was just short of scalding.

Patton eyed the steam curling up into the air with a concerned fluff to his feathers, but didn’t protest after seeing the small, delighted grin that Virgil made as he held his hand under.

No, this wasn’t dunking his head in cold streams, or dipping his arm in a lukewarm puddle, or the humiliating icy hose downs in captivity. This was warm water. He’d never take it for granted again.

He shrugged out of his hoodie as he walked over to the entrance. “Does this… lock?”

“Any door on the ship can be sealed,” Patton replied, and bonked his head to Virgil’s sympathetically at the shudder that information sent through him. “Nobody’s going to lock anything without your permission, though, okay?”

“Yeah,” Virgil said, knowing he sounded less than convinced. “Can you guard the door, still? Just in case,” he added in English, one of the phrases he’d used a lot while they were on the run.

Patton gave him a sad look, more than aware how unsafe he still felt, but nodded firmly and dropped carefully down to the floor, taking up position just outside the door like a tiny sentry. Virgil draped his hoodie over him, and then-- checking that the others weren’t nearby to witness and freak out about it-- he gave him the world’s smallest noogie, ruffling the feathers atop his head with a knuckle.

Having preemptively twitched his antennae out of the way, Patton made one of those bird-like laughs at him, batting his hand away. “Go clean! And make sure you wash out for slippery floors!”

Virgil snorted, and carefully sealed the door behind him, trying not to think about the feeling of being stuck in a tiny square room again. He shook his head, dragging his thoughts back on track.

He had access to a warm shower, his first in literal months (...years?). He was going to stay under that spout until every bit of dirt washed down the drain.

---

Roman was midway through a session of storywriting when he heard Patton’s bright voice coming down the hall, passing by his room and chattering all the while.

His ears flicked back automatically to check in, and he frowned when he realized that he couldn’t hear Logan’s arms clicking alongside the Ampen. No, apart from Patton’s tiny tapping footsteps, there was nothing. Patton had to be talking to the Human, then, since he was the only one who ghosted around the ship silently enough to make Roman feel stalked at every corner.

Well. He’d grown tired of watching his characters make a rather vexing detour from his carefully-plotted main storyline anyhow, and he was loath to leave his smallest friend alone with a Human, regardless of how docile that Human pretended to be.

After a brief cleanup of his writing instruments, he was sweeping down the corridor to the commons after them.

Logan was already in the room when he arrived, which was surprising; even Roman had picked up on the ludicrous lengths the Human went to avoid the Ulgorian, as though Logan of all people was someone to be scared of. The nerd’s poison blood was the most “threatening” thing about him, and the Human had already shown how easily he could shake that off.

Patton was leading the Human by one hand, their size disparity as jarring and terrifying as ever. And the Human…

Roman turned his head to the side to study the scene more intently, and that in itself was strange.

Normally, Virgil was almost preternaturally aware of when he was being watched, according to Logan. It was obvious when he knew: the Human went tense and rigid, practically poised to pounce at any moment.

But now, he was trailing after Patton with a relaxed slope to his shoulders, his steps almost languid. He all but collapsed on the fluffy cushion Patton gestured to, eyes gliding shut as the Ampen climbed up after him.

Roman took a few steps into the room, and the Human cracked one eye open-- not entirely out of it, then. The mild suspicion he was regarded with was almost reassuring.

Upon closer inspection, there were physical changes, too. The human had gone from pale, almost grey-toned to having a pinkish tint to his skin. The grey-brown still clung to the hooded garment he’d draped himself in, creating an even more jarring contrast. Dirt, then? It would certainly explain the smudges he left everywhere he touched much better than some strange Human Residue.

… He wasn’t crossing Human Residue off the list of possibilities, though.

Most striking of all was his head. He had originally stalked around with a matted mess of fur, glinting oily in the light where it wasn’t dull with dirt. Now, the fur was clean and stuck out in little fluffy tufts, creating a much less menacing look overall.

Patton apparently agreed, because he’d scampered up to one shoulder and immediately buried his tiny hands into that fluff. Roman and Logan both startled, exchanging an alarmed-exasperated-fearful look, one that had become exceedingly more common after Patton came home with his new Human cellmate.

Surprisingly, all Virgil did was go even more boneless on the cushion, turning his head to better meet Patton’s touch. Patton closed his eyes happily, apparently completely fine with petting one of the most feared creatures in the galaxy.

That wasn’t surprising at all, actually.

What was surprising was the Human’s apparent tolerance for it.

“I wasn’t aware Humans enjoyed tactile ministrations,” Logan said, tapping his wristplates curiously. “Is Virgil alright?”

The Human in question turned slightly to glance at them, eyes still half-lidded. It was probably the least threatening body language Roman had seen from him since… well, ever. “Mm?”

“You’re just relaxing, aren’t you kiddo?” Patton combed through that mess of fluff some more and Virgil lost what little tension he’d regained. “Virgil spent a lot of time on guard while we were on the run planetside. He deserves all the time in the world to recuperate… and all the head scritches!”

Roman’s tail swished exasperatedly, but even he really couldn’t come up with a reason to begrudge the Human for this, not when Patton was so clearly enjoying having someone else onboard to preen. Even if that someone was a Deathworlder.

He moved to settle onto his own cushion under the guise of supervising, though for once he thought the Human might actually fall asleep in front of him.

And if he was perhaps just slightly curious about what exactly a fluffy Human felt like? Well, that was nobody’s business but his own.

[iclaimedtobethebetterbard]

it seemed the better way - chapter 7

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: Janus, Romulus, Patton, Logan, c!Thomas mentions, Remus, Roman Rating: General audiences Relationships: Platonic everyone Warnings: Major character kind-of-death (the Split), arguing, breaking promises, nightmares, Logan is silenced, crying Word count: 3808 Note: Ty to @anxious-logic for betaing!!

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

start - previous - here - next - masterpost

–

Chapter 7

For a few weeks after that, everything was… fine. It was fine. Romulus was noticeably cautious with the ideas he pitched to the group, his eyes flitting hesitantly to Patton every once in a while, and the ideas were just… nice. They were very nice. Patton liked them. And while Janus had to admit that Romulus’s ideas weren’t actually missing their usual flair, it still itched annoying under his skin that Romulus was so clearly changing them somehow for Patton’s benefit. That didn’t seem fair. All because Patton had gone and gotten so upset over something that really, Janus didn’t think mattered at all.

“Well—I hurt his feelings,” Romulus said, when Janus challenged him about it. “So I just, I guess I can be extra nice for a bit, to make it better, you know?”

“For a bit, though,” Janus pressed, seizing at once on this phrasing. “Not forever, right?”

“Oh. No, of course not forever,” Romulus agreed, making Janus relax. “Thomas needs me to make lots of things for him,” he went on with a worldly air. “I wouldn’t skip anything forever. But just for a bit it won’t hurt, I figured. And then Patton will feel better, and everything will be good again.”

“He’d get over it,” Janus said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, but he’ll get over it faster this way,” Romulus argued. “See? I know what I’m doing. And he’s our friend, anyway.”

“I know. But he’s being so dumb lately,” Janus whined. “He worries way too much about what the grownups think. Grownups are boring.”

“Yeah, but he’s nice too. He makes good cookies.” Romulus counted reasons off on his fingers. “And he gives good hugs. And he always is nice to us when we’re sad. And he plays with me when you’re all overwhelmed and need to be alone and nap.”

“He does?” Janus asked, feeling vaguely threatened, even though this made sense. He’d hardly have expected Romulus to just wait for him, or to play with Logan, who was rarely interested in imagination games.

“You don’t do it that much,” Romulus reassured him. “But sometimes yeah. Anyway, my point is, he’s our friend, so I’m helping him feel better.”

“Fine.” Janus shrugged. “Just as long as you’re okay.”

“I am!” Romulus assured him.

Sure enough, only a few days later, Romulus had Thomas go on a spree of fart jokes on the playground during recess. While Patton fidgeted and shot Romulus uneasy glances, he let this slide without actually raising any objections. Which was good. Patton hadn’t complained about a single idea Romulus had in ages, busying himself with other things he thought Thomas could do better; maybe he was just done with bothering himself about what Romulus did.

Maybe things really were getting better. If this kept up, all Janus would need to do would be convince Patton to drop his silly ideas about lies being bad for Thomas, and then everything would be back to how it ought to be.

And the pattern held. For a while, anyway. Romulus flitted back and forth between more of the safe ideas Patton liked, and ones with more and more of the sorts of things that made Patton wince and send him disapproving looks (which both Romulus and Janus ignored). But Patton didn’t challenge Romulus aloud, which Janus counted as a win.

It didn’t last.

Thomas, in a fit of daring, had gone along with it when one of his friends had snuck a scary movie from their parents’ DVD collection and offered to play it during a visit. Though the two had been caught only a third of the way into the movie, and scolded by both sets of parents, the imagery of the monster and the dead people had stuck with Romulus.

Thomas was asleep now, and nearing the state where he could dream, which was prime creative time for Romulus.

“Monsters,” Romulus was mumbling, sitting on the floor of the Mindscape living room and molding gory creations out of imaginary clay, which took on disturbingly lifelike forms under his hands. “Monsters and monsters and dead people. And blood.” He smeared gooey red all about one creature’s mouth. “Lots of blood.” He looked up at Janus. “They eat people up. I think—” He frowned. “I think I’m gonna make them eat Mom and Dad up, and then that’s the scariest thing that could happen, so the monsters will be less scary after.”

“That’s awful,” Patton put in, horrified, from the kitchen table.

“The movie was too scary!” Romulus said. “I’ve gotta make it less scary. This’ll do the trick.”

“We should just stop thinking about it.” Patton shook his head. “He shouldn’t have watched that movie at all. The faster we all forget about it, the better.”

“How about you leave Romulus alone and let him do his job?” Janus snapped. Perhaps he was being overly hostile, but he’d been shaken by the movie too and it had left him in a particularly irritable mood all day.

“His job shouldn’t hurt Thomas,” Patton said. He frowned at Janus. “Hurting people is bad.”

“It’s helping,” Romulus said vaguely, seeming more absorbed in his clay creations, which were beginning to make sluggish movements about the rug and come to life under his supervision.

“Yeah,” Janus backed him up hotly, “weren’t you listening? It’s going to help Thomas be less scared.” Admittedly, he had not entirely followed Romulus’s line of thinking, but he trusted him.

“It’s going to be a nightmare!” Patton protested. “Nightmares make him more scared!”

“Yeah, well, maybe you’d get it if you were smarter,” Janus retorted. “Just let him take care of it and stop being so pushy.”

“I help take care of Thomas too, you know,” Patton said after a long silence, a wounded look on his face.

Janus almost wavered, but that would mean nobody was there to back up Romulus. He squashed the spark of compassion for Patton inside himself and rolled his eyes. “Take care of making him boring, maybe.” He scoffed. “How’s it taking care of him to try and make everyone else here do things your way? Isn’t the point that we all do different things for him?”

“Can you both shut up?” Romulus asked. “I need to concentrate.” He put his hands together, then slowly pulled them apart, a glittery pink-and-yellow cotton-candy substance forming in the space between them. A dream; Janus had seen them often enough. Romulus trailed the substance over the tiny models of monsters and people, chasing each other around the carpet at his knees, and as it made contact with the subjects it was to absorb, the dark and bloody colors leached into the cotton candy glitter. It didn’t lose its sparkle, but the pastel sugary appearance was quickly subsumed by darker, more vivid colors, swirling together in a threatening mishmash of blood-red and shadow-dark and gooey-monster-skin green.

“Romulus, please—” Patton begged, fright pitching his voice high. “Stop it! Just stop it!”

“Can’t,” Romulus said, sounding distracted as he focused on the dream-substance, which had now grown into a whole cloud surrounding him. Like shaping bubbles in a bath, he carefully pushed it into a smaller area, heaping it upon itself and slowly climbing to his feet as he went.

“Stop!” Patton repeated.

Romulus shook his head, pinching at the very tip-top of the mound of dream, which was almost as big as he was. A trailing strand formed in his hand, connected to the rest and drawing from it as he lengthened it out. He rose up, vanishing from the Mindscape—he had to connect the thread of the dream to Thomas for it to work, and it would ravel itself out until the end once he did.

“Janus, please,” Patton said, rounding on him now that Romulus was gone. “You can’t possibly want Thomas to have a nightmare! You hate it when he’s unhappy.”

This was true. Janus fidgeted, not wanting to admit it under present circumstances.

“Romulus listens to you,” Patton went on. “You can make him change it, I know you can! This is bad. Why would you want him to just do something like this to Thomas?”

“Well, I figure he knows more than me about creativity,” Janus said, scrambling to come up with a good reason to explain why he’d side with Romulus over Patton here. “So I don’t try and take over his job just because of some little thing I made up.” He glared at Patton, crossing his arms, as Romulus sank back into the room.

“What are we fighting about?” Romulus asked, taking in Janus and Patton’s faces. “I was busy, I didn’t pay attention.”

“Oh, Patton just thinks you’re a loser and you shouldn’t be in charge of dreams anymore,” Janus said.

Romulus’s jaw dropped. “What?”

“No I don’t!” Patton looked just as shocked as Romulus. “I would never say that!”

“It’s basically what you meant, though,” Janus said coldly.

“No, I—well—not like that—I just—” Patton faltered under Janus’s glare, grasping for words.

“What’s wrong with my dreams?” Romulus asked, sending Patton a confused, hurt look.

“I just…” Patton took a deep breath and set his shoulders. “You made a nightmare, Romulus. A really scary one. I don’t think that’s good for Thomas. I—I think you should—um. Change it. And make it stop.”

Romulus frowned. “No. He needs it.” He shook his head. “He’ll just get more and more scared otherwise. He’ll keep thinking about it.”

“Not if we all try and make him think about other things,” Patton protested, which Janus found to be a very weak argument at best. ”And—and anyway, won’t he just think about the scary dream?”

“No, because the dream is gonna be fake,” Romulus explained. “When he wakes up, Mom and Dad will help him feel better, because that’s what happens after bad dreams. And they won’t be eaten by monsters, because that’s fake. So it’ll make the rest of it more fake, too. And then he’ll feel more better after.” He nodded, seeming satisfied.

Alright. That made sense to Janus. He was more on board with this plan, now that he understood it properly.

But Patton seemed more distressed than ever. “I don’t want to think about Mom and Dad getting eaten!”

Romulus heaved a beleaguered sigh. “Patton.” He stepped forward and put a hand on Patton’s shoulder. “It’s. Pretend. You don’t have to worry about it! Mom and Dad are going to be fine.”

“I don’t think this will fix it, Romulus,” Patton insisted. “It’s going to make it worse. You should stop.”

“You should stop telling him what to do,” Janus snapped. “He doesn’t tell you how to make Thomas decide what’s good and bad. Or how he should feel. Why do you think you should just run everyone’s jobs so much lately?”

“Why are you being so mean?” Patton asked, open hurt written across his face.

“I’m being mean?” Janus asked. He laughed, not caring that it did indeed sound mean. “I’m not the one trying to change everything Romulus does until he’s scared to even say his real ideas!”

“I’m not scared,” Romulus protested.

“Shh.” Janus waved him off, eyes fixed on Patton. “I’m not the one saying it’s bad for me to do my job and take care of Thomas and protect him! I’m not the one who only cares what Logan says when it matches up with what you want!”

“Patton doesn’t do that,” Logan said.

“Shut up, Logan.” Janus shot him a look. Couldn’t he see that Janus was trying to help all of them?

“Well, your argument doesn’t make sense if it’s false,” Logan said. “And Patton cares what I say usually. And he��s right, you are being kind of mean to him right now.”

“I said shut up,” Janus snarled. “You’re good at that. Always sitting there reading, ignoring us all until you’re tired of us just existing and you tell us to keep it down.”

Logan frowned, then inhaled and cleared his face. “I am going to ignore that, because you’re just yelling now,” he said, and picked his book back up.

“Go ahead,” Janus said nastily, “just ignore the things you don’t like. You’re good at that. Just like Patton. I’m sure that’s the most logical way to deal with things. Just ignore the parts that are inconvenient for you. Great job.”

Logan’s knuckles tightened on the sides of the book, and he held it up closer to his face to hide his expression from view.

“Janus, I think maybe we should all take a break,” Patton suggested.

“No,” Janus snapped. “You just want me to get tired of arguing and be quiet so you can pretend everything is all how you want. Pretend there’s no problems. Pretend you aren’t trying to tell Romulus what to do all the time. You pretend so many things! And they’re all fake!” He stamped his foot.

“Janus,” Logan said, lowering the book from his face and not making eye contact, “you are making things worse. Patton is right, we—”

“Shut up,” Janus snapped. “Patton is not right. Shut up and stop talking now!”

“But you—”

Almost without meaning to, Janus twisted one of his extra arms and slapped Logan’s own hand over his mouth.

“Janus!” Patton cried as Logan’s eyes went wide with disbelief that quickly shifted to rage and panic. “Janus, stop it!”

Logan tugged frantically at his hand, his book falling off his lap and landing on the floor with a loud thud.

Janus just watched Logan with cold satisfaction, holding his hand in place.

Patton took a deep, shaky breath, his hands balled into fists at his sides. “Everyone is too upset right now,” he said, struggling to keep his voice even. “We need to take a break. Janus, let Logan go, and Romulus, just—just stop the dream, and we can talk about it later when we’re all calmed down, okay?”

Romulus frowned. “Why should I stop it? You’ve never made me do that before.” He stepped closer to Janus and crossed his arms.

“I—I’m not making you—” Patton faltered. “Well—well, but maybe I should.” He frowned and set his shoulders. “We shouldn’t be hurting Thomas. And that’s what nightmares do.”

“Hey!” Romulus seemed alarmed now. “I’m not hurting him—you weren’t listening!”

“How is this not hurting him?” Patton gestured at the pile of slowly diminishing nightmare on the ground, trickling out into Thomas’s mind.

“I dunno, maybe if you’d listened to him explain it you’d understand,” Janus said, crossing his arms to match Romulus’s.

“Listen—” Patton let out a frustrated noise. “Can we just stop it for a minute?” He reached for the dream.

“No!” Romulus gasped and darted forward, trying to push Patton away. “Don’t touch it!”

But Patton had already grabbed the dream in his hands, trying to pull the thread and break it off.

It didn’t break; instead, his pulling disturbed the heap of dream-material not yet spun out into thread, and sent the pile toppling. Cotton-candy glitter spread out across the living room, pooling and hovering about all the Sides’ knees like a cloud.

“Leave it alone!” Romulus snatched the dream away from Patton protectively. “You can’t stop dreams. You’re just changing it!” He gestured down at the dream where it lapped against Patton’s knees.

Pale blue tendrils were seeping into it everywhere it touched Patton—and the pale blue was mixing with the darker colors already there, getting mostly overwhelmed but turning them even nastier, more sickly shades.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” Romulus said, hands on his hips. “Now your feelings are getting into it. And it’s going to feel way bigger and scarier and more real for Thomas. Because you are feelings. I only put the idea of feelings into dreams, never real ones. They’re too strong for dreams. You’re not supposed to touch these!”

Sure enough, if Janus paid attention, in the back of his head he could feel Thomas’s dream-fright intensifying.

“Why didn’t you say that before?” Patton wailed, staring down at the dream-substance all around him in terror.

“You weren’t listening, it wouldn’t’ve mattered if I did!” Romulus yelled right back.

Janus crouched and poked cautiously at the dream-substance. Yellow spooled out of his finger, mingling briefly with the colors before disappearing and being subsumed—but where it had been, the dream-colors grew brighter and more vivid. “Romulus?” he asked, nervous in spite of himself. “What do I do to it?”

“You’re fine,” Romulus said, not looking. “You just make dreams seem more real and exciting, since they’re not true and you’re best at that.” His eyes widened. “Wait, but if Patton’s got into it, that’s bad. I’m wrong. Normally you’re okay. Um, but not right this minute. Um, um um um. That’s bad. Oh no.” He looked back and forth between Patton and Janus. “This wasn’t supposed to be a big deal!” he said helplessly. “It was just supposed to be a regular dream!”

“See, Patton?” Janus snapped. “If you’d just let him do it his way, everything would be fine.”

“No it wouldn’t, though!” Patton shook his head. “It was still a really scary nightmare. It was going to make him cry!”

“You really weren’t listening, were you?” Romulus mumbled, kneeling and beginning to carefully collect the dream back into its heap. It seemed to be much more difficult for him to handle now, the material grown slippery and sliding off itself each time he piled some on top. “Well, it’s going to be worse now, because you didn’t believe me.” He glared up at Patton. “He’s going to be so scared.” He pointed at the bright blue still leaching outward from Patton into the dream. “And I can’t change it now. So none of us are having a fun time.” He shook his head and resumed trying to gather up the dream.

“Wow, Patton,” Janus said. “Looks like you trying to make Romulus do what you want made everything bad. Almost like you being so fussy about Romulus’s ideas was a problem. Isn’t that funny?”

Patton shook his head. “If he’d listened to me, none of this would have happened,” he insisted. “If you hadn’t encouraged him to keep making creepy bad things in his ideas, everything would be fine right now!”

“If I hadn’t—I never made him do anything! You did!” Janus retorted, indignant that Patton still couldn’t see that he was wrong.

“Well, I guess I didn’t do enough,” Patton responded stubbornly. “Since we still have to deal with this now.” He shook his head again. “I should’ve been better at helping him pick the right things.”

“Why do you think you know better than him what the right things are?” Janus snapped.

“Because it’s my job, Janus!” Patton shouted. “You keep saying I’m messing up everyone else’s jobs, but you don’t ever care about mine!”

“You two are making this a lot harder to get under control!” Romulus cried, still struggling with the mutating dream. Streams of rainbow color were spilling into it everywhere he touched it, and weren’t even getting mixed into the dream like Janus and Patton’s colors had, just staying and mingling with the other colors.

“Let me fix it, then,” Patton said, wading over towards Romulus. “Let’s change it so it’s not a scary dream!”

“No!” Romulus grabbed armfuls of the material and scooted backwards, away from Patton. “Changing dreams in the middle sucks and is so hard! It doesn’t even go right most of the time. That could make it much worse!”

“But it’s scaring Thomas!” Patton tried to grab some of the dream Romulus was holding. “You have to stop!”

Romulus gasped at the words, reeling backwards as if struck. He regained himself before he lost his balance, but his grip on the armfuls of dream slackened, and he was panting like he was winded. “Patton—”

“Patton, leave him alone!” Janus said, hurrying over and trying to pull Patton’s hands off the dream. “Just let him fix it back to how it was supposed to be, and stop trying to make him do it your way.” He yanked roughly at Patton’s arm.

“No!” Patton yanked right back. “He’s not going to fix it, he’s just going to make it still be scary! He needs to stop!”

“You need to stop,” Janus snarled.

“Guys—” Romulus began, sounding scared.

“Just let me fix it,” Patton repeated, stamping his foot.

“Guys, something’s wrong,” Romulus gasped out, sounding downright panicked now. “Put it down! Please.”

“Do it,” Janus snapped at Patton. “What’s wrong?” he asked Romulus.

“It’s all messed up, it has too much of me in it now!” Romulus gestured to the puddle of rainbow now surrounding him. “But I can fix it. Just let me put it back how it was—”

“No,” Patton repeated. “Not how it was! That was bad for Thomas!”

“Just do what Romulus says!” Janus snapped, grabbing the armful of dream from Patton in order to pass it back over to Romulus.

“No!” Patton grabbed at it again and pulled. Janus pulled right back, digging in his heels and refusing to let go.

“Romulus, you need to stop!” Patton shouted, and the dream material he and Janus were struggling with ripped in half, sending them both falling on their backsides.

Romulus shrieked. Bright white light, like when he shapeshifted, flared outward from him. It splintered, breaking apart into rainbow streaks.

“Romulus?” Janus cried.

“Romulus!” Patton scrambled up, reaching towards Romulus, so obscured by the light that they couldn’t even see him anymore.

The light flared brighter, rainbow colors flashing around and around. Two colors grew brighter than the rest, seeming to pull from the dream-colors on the floor, until the rainbow light was all red or green, flashing back and forth so bright and painful. Janus covered his eyes, the light too overwhelming, and he could still see the flashes through his eyelids and the cracks between his fingers.

“Romulus!” Patton screamed again, sounding panicked.

There was a final flash of light and a crack like thunder. Janus forced his hands away from his eyes just in time to see Romulus stagger and fall—

Something happened, and there were suddenly too many arms and legs, and they were breaking apart in ways that no one person should—

By the time Romulus hit the floor, he wasn’t Romulus.

Two boys, one dressed all in white with a red sun on his chest and the other all in black with a cluster of green stars, fell apart from each other where Romulus ought to be, and neither of them was Romulus even a little bit.

“Romulus!” Janus and Patton screamed in panicked unison.

Thomas woke up from his nightmare with a gasp and burst into tears.

[phrikewritesfanfic]

Thank you for the warm reception of part one. I have quite a bit of this written, so here's part two. Hope you all like it.

Summary: Remus walks in and spots Virgil sidled up close to his brother. He sees the two whispering to each other and his blood boils. He then tells at Virgil who tries to explain the situation. Remus won't allow him to and makes some mean comments, just to hurt Virgil. It works and Virgil leaves. Remus then learns the truth and must work to fix his mistake and save his friendship and any chance with Virgil.

Pairing: Dukexiety, Remy, Janus and Roman are V's friends, Remus and Roman are brothers

College au

Word count: 1625

Warnings: cursing (quite a bit), angsty (because that's the mood), self deprecating Remus, Remus is a very sad boy, Virgil is anxious and overthinks (but he's also stubborn), there is a whole ass breakdown in this part, lemme know if there's anything else

****

This continues for a week. Remus attempts to apologize and is shot down or ignored by Virgil. The looks of confusion on his group of friends quickly shift to either disgust or pity as they are obviously informed of the situation. Until one day he stops trying to speak to the other. He just follows silently behind, once again acquainting himself to an abandoned dog. He knows, he knows how pathetic he looks, but he can't bring himself to care. If there's even a slight chance Virgil might speak to him, even just look at him as he's taken to ignoring his presence entirely, he doesn't want to miss it. He can't lose Virgil, not like this. Virgil knows exactly what's happening with Remus though, his friends make sure of that. They warn him when he approaches, they tell him which side he's on, even once or twice describing how dejected the other looks. Regardless, he remains unaffected. He shows no sign of breaking or caring at all about the situation. He doesn't even look annoyed anymore. He looks passive and apathetic, and that wrecks Remus so much more.

Janus knows better of course. He's been there with Remy when Virgil's broken down either in his own room or in the back of their classroom. Virgil is broken up about all of this. If Janus is honest with himself, he's surprised and proud of Virgil for sticking to his guns. He'd expected him to forgive Remus quickly. And honestly it may be the fact that he's surrounded by support that he hasn't given in.

Roman doesn't mention Virgil often, though Remus knows they're still friends and they still talk. He's taken aback by the small act of kindness from his brother. He could be rubbing this in his face. A few years ago he absolutely would have. But not now, now they're trying to mend their relationship.

Virgil is so close to breaking down and apologizing to Remus. He's so grateful that his friends are around to talk him out of it. He knows that he has nothing to apologize for, but some days his mind convinces him that he was the one in the wrong, that he's overreacting. Janus and Remy shoot those thoughts down immediately. Instead he's only weak and breaks down in the safety and comfort of his friends' dorm and his own room, but holds himself together the rest of the time. "If you decide to accept his apology, that's one thing. But don't even think about apologizing to that asshole," Janus growls one day. Remy pats his shoulder, "he's right babe, you've done nothing wrong. He's the one who jumped to conclusions and hurt you." Virgil nods. He knows this. They know that he knows this. Yet, they still tell him over and over. They understand that he needs reassurance, and they are more than happy to give it. He leans into his friends and sighs.

One day Remus can't stand it anymore. The silence from the one person he's loved, the overwhelming clatter in his own mind. It's all too much. He can't take it anymore. He waits for Virgil to leave his first class, he's less surrounded this early in the day, only Remy and Janus with him. He stops in front of Virgil and Remy is the first to notice the half crazed, distraught look in his eyes. Virgil stops with his companions, but keeps his eyes on Remy who's actively watching Remus. "Virgil, please just look at me, for fucksake. Please, I can't," he's near tears by the end of his plea. But he's immensely grateful to see the other's gaze turn towards him. This joy is quickly overrun with pain and dismay at the cold look he's given. Virgil's eyes are finally back on him, something he'd been dying for since this whole thing started. Though Remus had never expected to see them look so devoid in his direction. There's no emotion behind them at all. He'd expected to see hurt and anger, but even those are missing. Instead Virgil looks at him the way he used to look at the loud, obnoxious crowds in highschool, and Remus can't handle that. He begins to cry, openly and without remorse. He falls to his knees then. "I'm sorry Virgil. I never should have said what I did. I was wrong. I don't believe what I said, I never did. I said those things to hurt you. I was insecure and," he pauses to catch his breath and his thoughts, "and wrong." He's quiet for a moment, sniffling the only sound in the now empty corridor. Roman had shown up at some point, Remus passively noticed. "I don't deserve your forgiveness, I know that. I really do, but if there's any hope that I can earn it," it sounds like a question. He glances up then, not letting himself get too hopeful. When the other doesn't answer he nods and continues, "Virgil, tell me you want nothing to do with me," he gulps, trying his best to hold those cold calculating eyes, "tell me to fuck off and stay away from you and I will. Tell me there's no chance of forgiveness and I'll leave you alone, I swear." He's breathless by the end, afraid he might not get it out if he doesn't hurry. He'll chicken out if given a chance. He doesn't want to lose Virgil, a part of his mind supplies that he already has, but he will do whatever Virgil needs him to to avoid that reality. "But if there's even a chance that I can have you in my life again," he's begging and he knows it. He's showing immense weakness, but he can't bring himself to care. Not when this feels like his last stand, his last chance to be allowed in Virgil's life. Instead of answering Virgil sighs, closes his eyes and glances at his friends. They seem to have a silent conversation. Then Virgil glances at Remus for just a moment before turning and walking away. It's just a moment, but it's enough for Remus to see the shift. Virgil looks sad, the mask has fallen just enough and Remus is immensely relieved. He then notes the retreating forms as the trio wander off to their next tasks. Roman steps up beside his brother and helps him stand. After a moment to collect himself he swallows his fear and turns to his twin, "he didn't tell me to fuck off, right?" Roman stares for a moment before sighing and shaking his head, "he didn't say anything before he left." Remus nods and laughs wetly, "okay then." He goes back to their apartment and freshens up. He then makes his way to the class he and Virgil share. He smiles slightly, unsurely, at him as he takes his seat. His heart pounds when the other nods. He's acknowledging him, that's progress. Janus still sits beside him, where Remus used to sit, obviously offering support. Remus has to hold back his exhausted, relieved grin. He still has a chance to fix this.

This is how they progress for the next few weeks. Remus still follows Virgil most days. He seems to understand when not to crowd the anxious man though, and isn't a constant presence. He doesn't add much to the conversation at first, but Virgil doesn't seem to mind his company, so no one says anything against him being there. The others will occasionally involve him in their conversations, once they realize it doesn't bother Virgil. Remus quietly chatters away at those times, casting furtive glances at Virgil occasionally. He sits quietly as they work on classwork, and even does some of his own. Janus notes how much he seems to be trying one evening as they sit in his apartment, "So Remus has been awfully quiet recently." Virgil hums noncommittally. Janus smirks, he knows Virgil is mostly just being stubborn at this point. He'd been hurt and now he's scared to go back. "He's even actually taking an interest in his homework," Janus smiles. Virgil just rolls his eyes. "Have you noticed how well he and Remy get along?" Virgil just sighs, "yes Jan, I've noticed. Of course I've noticed. I'd have to be a blind idiot not to see. I know he's trying, Janus." He groans, "I just don't know how I can trust him. He said some awful things, and if that's what he really thinks of me…" Janus cuts him off, "you know it's not. He's an impulsive idiot. But from what you've told me, and what I've seen myself, he thinks the world of you." Virgil shrugs, "if he could say those things to me so easily, what's to stop it from happening again?" Now it's Janus' turn to sigh, but he nods, "that's a valid concern, and one the two of you will eventually need to discuss. But as long as you're willing to acknowledge that he's trying." Virgil nods. "Good," Janus smiles, "I'm not saying you should forgive him. Honestly if you decide you never want to get that close to him again you'd be well within your right. But if you do decide you want to let him in, you're not in the wrong for that either." Virgil simply nods his appreciation for his friend's support.

The next time they're all together Remus has to stop himself from bursting at the seams when Virgil greets him. It's just a simple 'hey' in response to Remus' uncharacteristically quiet greeting but it means the world to him. Roman is with them this time and he doesn't miss the radiant smile Remus tries to smother. The group works on homework for a while, chatting amiably.

****

Things are looking up a bit for the boys.

@antisocial-xxxpert

[hageny]

Succession Thoughts: Gerri x Roman

1. “Hey Shiv”.

At the beginning of Vaulter the team is discussing how best to deal with Stewey’s public attacks against Logan and the charges that he’s making about Logan’s ability to run Waystar. Gerri speaks up and suggests that laying low and not firing off a response right away is the best course of action to avoid looking rattled; Shiv disagrees--”So let Stewy sway all the shareholders while dad sits there with a thumb up his ass?”-- at which point Roman looks at Shiv and shoots back, “Hey Shiv”. What he says is not anything significant on the surface, but in reality it serves to highlight what will become important later in the season: that Roman is very uncomfortable with people attacking Gerri in any way and won’t hesitate to stand up for her, in the same way she’s done for him in the past.

2. Upstairs. 

When Roman goes to visit Gerri’s room in Argestes, he does something that is subtle but perhaps foreshadows the course of their relationship in the future. As he comes in the door he briefly peers upstairs, presumably to where Gerri’s bedroom is. This is significant because 1) Roman has obvious intimacy issues and 2) it serves as another reminder of the way in which Roman sees Gerri, which is different from how he views his girlfriends. Tabitha, for instance, is propped up like arm candy, usually seen at events or in public settings, whereas Gerri is often seen alone with Roman, and depicted in a more sensuous, sexualized way. This is not so much solely for audience interest as it is a look at Gerri through Roman’s eyes, who has an interest in her that he (almost) never displays toward the other women he dates. Even the girlfriend preceding Tabitha, who gives her number to the waiter at the gala in Sad Sack Wasp Trap, is only interesting to Roman when she gives someone else her number, and then it’s not so much that he’s interested in her but in punishing the other guy. Her character disappears soon after, while Roman’s interest in Gerri grows.

3. Vaulter.

When Logan gathers Roman and Kendall together to discuss the fate of Vaulter, the camera pans in on Gerri’s face twice, once while she’s listening to Kendall’s pitch, and once while listening to Roman’s. It’s obvious from her reactions that she is impressed with both the effort and thought Roman has put into his decision, especially when he mentions he took the staffers out and suckered them into providing information to him. This demonstrates two things about Roman that Gerri sees that no one else cares to recognize: when pushed, he is more than capable of doing a good job, and he has the people skills and tenacity to go places that Kendall does not, something that Gerri also possesses. As the audience, we’re supposed to notice now what becomes important as their relationship evolves, namely that Roman desires Gerri because of the way she views him, and who she can help him become--someone he is unable to be on his own without guidance and reassurance, so lacking in his childhood.

4. Belief. 

Later in Vaulter, Roman is talking to Tabitha about how his father has taken his advice about what to do with the company. Still somewhat shocked, he tells her that perhaps he is intelligent and capable--”Maybe I’m smart”--to which she replies, “Sure. Maybe. You did a thing. Mazel tov.”. This highlights an essential aspect of Roman’s personality: that he is looking for belief and approval from those around him in his abilities, and is repeatedly denied it. This part of his nature stretches back into his childhood, which is touched on Prague. Roman recounts the ‘dog cage’ story, and on the surface it’s just another anecdote that highlights the absurdity of the Roy children’s upbringing, but what Connor remembers is the most important part of the story: that Roman asked to be put in the cage in the same way he asked to be sent off to military school. Roman remembers things differently, that Kendall forced him into the cage, put a leash on his neck, fed him dog food to bully him, and that he (Roman) was sent away when he “cracked”. It’s noted that the cage was at his mother’s house, which is presumably where the game took place. This could be an unimportant detail, or could be interpreted to mean that not even in his mother’s home--which could be symbolically read as a ‘womb’ of sorts--was Roman safe. She presumably did nothing to stop the game, and the siblings all took part. What the truth of the circumstances were is hard to deduce. Did Roman really want to go in the cage, or was he forced to and then sent off to St. Andrews because he lost it? Maybe it makes no difference. What is the line between self-flagellation and whipping by another? In Roman’s case, there is none. Whether he entered the cage of his own volition or was forced in, the fact is the act of him ending up inside of it is indicative of his families’ attitude toward him: that he is like a pet, small, fun, but ultimately useless. From his earliest years Roman has believed that he is useless, has been treated as such by everyone around him, and is still viewed in this way by his girlfriend, where the theme loops back around in his life. One could even find in this story an allusion to Plato’s Allegory of the Cave, wherein Plato recounts a group of people chained to a wall; these people watch shadows projected on the wall in front of them from objects passing in front of a fire behind them and believe this is reality. It isn’t, of course, but because of their chains they cannot leave and don’t know the difference. For so long, Roman has been chained in his own way, and his reality--his lack of self-belief--is the shadow darting on the wall in front of him, created by the people who should have nurtured him. Only Gerri ever breaks the chain, by believing that he can accomplish whatever he sets his mind to.