#Ts fic

[stardustsides]

we’ll all be here forever

content warnings: references to underage drinking, general anxiety about going away to college

pairings: romantic logicality

word count: 1357

surprise, a lil logicality oneshot i wrote a few months ago but never posted. enjoy !!!

~

“I thought I might find you here.”

Patton glanced up from his spot on his attic bedroom floor. He was sitting cross-legged on his shag carpet he’s had since childhood, the dying light from outside pooling around him soft as honey, yearbook open in his lap. The circular window above his head was cracked open, letting the early summer air mingle with the muted sounds of the graduation party in the backyard.

Logan stood in the doorway, wearing a red Harvard t-shirt and looking unsure of himself. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt you—“

“Not at all,” Patton replied, patting the spot beside him. “Come sit.”

After a moment, he did, stooping a bit to fit inside. Logan had had a major growth spurt back in the summer before junior year, and now could no longer stand at his full height in Patton’s bedroom without hitting his head on the slanted ceilings. He folded his limbs in carefully and sat next to him.

Once, Patton might have felt the need to grin at Logan, to wipe every trace of melancholy from his expression and eagerly fill the silence between them. But the silence was comfortable, and Patton was lately finding that around Logan, he had to pretend less and less. And so for a little while, the two flicked through the yearbook together, quietly laughing to themselves when a particularly bad picture of one of their friends came up, and recounting the memories of the past year. Of the past four.

“Aww,” Patton said suddenly, pointing to the two-page spread made for the annual school musical. “Roman was so good in that. He made me cry.”

Logan glanced at him, his mouth twisting into a wry smile. “It was Mamma Mia.”

Patton swatted him on the arm. “Mamma Mia has serious moments! I bet plenty of people teared up during ‘Slipping Through my Fingers’!”

Logan snorted, turning his attention back to the book. “Oh, there’s Janus at the mock trial.”

“He did so good!”

“He did. Though he is going to law school after college, so I doubt that his opponents were thrilled about facing off with him.”

Patton fell silent again, the statement settling over him like a weighted blanket. The pictures on the photo wall above his desk fluttered in the light breeze. He wanted to curl up beneath it and let this moment live forever.

“…Patton,” Logan asked carefully. “What’s wrong? Why aren’t you down at the party?”

“I could ask you the same thing, Mr. Harvard-man,” Patton replied, but it didn’t come out as playful as he had hoped. The six of them—their tight-knit friend group since freshman year—had been planning the joint graduation party since they had gotten back from winter break. It had been decided that they would hold it at Patton’s house, because his house—which was actually a repurposed barn—had the biggest backyard. The others had come over at the crack of dawn to set up; now, fairy lights adorned the backyard, and streamers the colors of every college they had chosen cascaded around the perimeter.

It looked lovely, and yet as soon as the first guests had trickled in, Patton found that he just wanted to be alone.

Logan looked at him, a little furrow between his brows. Patton had often thought of that little furrow: if Logan knew it was there, what it would be like to press his thumb to it and smooth it out. He pushed those thoughts down, as he had gotten skilled at doing.

At last, he sighed. “I guess it’s just hitting me. That we’re all leaving.”

“…ah.”

“Yeah.”

Another bout of silence, punctuated by the faint sound of Remus beating Roman in a game of cornhole and crowing about his victory.

“You really don’t need to worry, Lo,” Patton said softly, offering him a wan smile. “I’ll be okay. Go down and enjoy the party.”

“You know that I have never been a party person.”

“You might be next year. I hear Harvard parties get crazy.”

“All the more reason for me not to go.”

“Yeah, well.” Patton sighed. “Who knows what next year will be like. Maybe we’ll all be different by then. We already are.”

A few weeks ago, they had rented a mountain house for a weekend, as per the “senior week” tradition. Roman had managed to smuggle a few boxes of hard seltzers and a bottle of vodka, and they had spent their Saturday night in various stages of drunkenness. It had all felt very grown up.

“Nothing has to change,” Logan started uncertainly.

“Logan,” he replied. “It already is.”

“That doesn’t mean that we won’t all still be close.”

“I know. But sometimes I wish that we could stop time, just for a little while.”

Another silence settled over them like a fresh layer of snow. Patton was thinking of what to say, of how to apologize for ruining the moment, when he felt Logan’s hand over his. He looked up in surprise—Logan was staring straight ahead, a muscle feathering in his jaw, as if he was trying to decide whether or not to speak.

Patton put his other hand on top of Logan’s and squeezed.

For a suspended moment, Patton’s world narrowed: the distant chatter outside, the early summer breeze, Logan’s hand between his, Logan’s breathing. He felt warm from the inside out, and all of his troubles suddenly seemed so very far away.

“Patton,” Logan began haltingly. “I—you know that I would never—that is, I could never—I could never let myself grow apart from you?”

Patton looked at him. Logan looked vaguely frustrated with himself, his cheeks daylily pink. He pushed his glasses further up his nose.

“I know,” Patton replied softly. “Me neither.”

Logan nodded faintly. “Good,” he said, almost to himself.

For a moment, Patton thought that that was it, and the comfortable silence would return. He turned his gaze back toward the window.

“Patton,” Logan said again, his voice taking on a strange timbre.

Patton looked at him again, and their eyes met. He felt a zing of something go down his spine, thrilling and terrifying. He suddenly had the distinct feeling of standing on the precipice of some great unknown, teetering precariously on the edge.

Logan, for the first time Patton could ever remember, was completely lost for words. He opened his mouth and closed it again, a short, nervous breath escaping him.

And then Patton leaned forward and kissed him.

Logan’s lips were slightly chapped, and he tasted a hint of vanilla frosting from the massive sheet cake downstairs; it was brief yet lingering, and when Patton drew back, Logan’s eyes looked starry behind his glasses.

And before Patton could even open his mouth to speak, Logan took his face in his hands and kissed him again, sweet and awkward and achingly tender. Their glasses clinked together. Patton could feel Logan’s nervous heartbeat through his chest, thumping in tandem with his own.

It felt like a puzzle piece had slid into place.

When Logan pulled away, there was a brief, suspended moment of pure wonder as they stared at each other. And then Patton started giggling. He felt giddy, like he was a can of soda that had been shaken and was now bubbling up everywhere. He was sparkling, fizzy.

Logan cracked a grin, shy and bashful but dazzling, and Patton’s heart felt so full.

“So,” he said, giggling.

“So.” Logan replied.

“Did I ever tell you you look cute in red?” Patton grinned, nodding at Logan’s Harvard shirt. Logan’s flush deepened.

“I don’t believe so.”

“I guess I better tell you more often, then.”

“I suppose you should.”

Later, Roman would burst into the room, reprimands about ditching the party dying on his tongue when he sees their joined hands. Later, they would have to endure endless teasing and scrutiny from their friends, various ‘I called it’-s and ‘I told you so’-s. Later, they would officially call themselves boyfriends, the word thrilling and new.

But for now, on the floor of his attic bedroom, Logan’s hand in his, Patton felt time stretch before him, golden and bright, and he found that he wasn’t scared at all.

[warcats-cat]

Friends. Fellows. Countryfolk. Can we

Please

Go back to tagging for unsympathetic sides? Or even just side negativity? Please?

I'm so tired of going into a tag for a comfort character and seeing a bunch of negativity; and I don't mean like call-out posts. If your fic has unsympathetic sides PLEASE tag it!!!! There are people trying to filter that out because they don't want to see it, like any other squick or trigger!!!

Thank you 💜

[heartstringsduet]

I'll bring you some lines of the wonderfully silly and sweet fic I wrote with @strandnreyes inspired by this little indie artist. thanks for tagging me @cold-blooded-jelly-doughnut @carlos-in-glasses @carlos-tk @orchidscript. I can't wait to fig into your snippets once I'm home.

Still, the first few steps are relatively simple, until TK says, “Okay and now let’s bring it all together.”

Carlos tries. The choreo is not that complicated, and yet, what seemed slow is a lot harder to do in the right order and without instruction. TK dances along with him, always a second earlier and to the beat, while Carlos scrambles. 

“Good job,” TK says after, turning in his chair.

Carlos frowns at his own hands. “We both know that’s not true.”

“Hey! This is the first choreo you learn and you already memorized the steps. It’s okay to take a bit of time to get it all to work fluidly.” TK’s hand settles on Carlos’ forearm. “You have the most important thing down.”

“What’s that?”

“You can move your hips.”

I tag whoever wants to join &

@paperstorm @decafdino @welcometololaland @rmd-writes @lemonlyman-dotcom @ladytessa74 @alrightbuckaroo @ambiguouspenny @freneticfloetry @louis-ii-reyes-strand @lightningboltreader @birdclowns @thebumblecee @liminalmemories21 @wandering-night19 @theghostofashton @reyesstrand @three-drink-amy

[elmaxlys]

Summary:

Instead of meeting a certain masked man, Kuon meets someone else on that roof...

Hi!!! I posted Judge, Jury, Executioner (chapter 1) on AO3!! It’s the “what if Kuon and Juo were besties” fic :D

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Archduke of Demonic Cultivation

Chapter 34: Then, Remus

[AO3 Link]

When Remus opened his eyes again, it took him several long moments to understand that he was still in the hidden room in Verdant Keep. Namely, because it was crowded . The room was filled with soldiers and medics all talking over each other and rushing about. It wasn’t more than thirty people all told, but the room was not meant to hold quite so many people. 

The last thing he remembered was going down to Wrath’s claws. Now, he was laying in a medic cot with his damaged leather armor set off to the side. His bonded weapon had vanished when it left his grasp… but his left hand was still grasping something so tightly he could feel blood, warm and sticky against his palm. Slowly, he lifted his hand and willed his cramping fingers to uncurl. A few droplets of blood rolled down his arm from where the sharp edges of the ruby pendant had pierced his skin. 

The Amulet. 

[Continue on AO3] | [Read From Beginning]

[fandombead]

Janus’ Guide for Cynics Who can’t Admit They Need a Family

First of a few Sanders Sides Fics I want to post~

Chapter 1: Right into the Fire

Word count: 2,257

Characters: Janus and kid!Remus

Summary: Janus just wanted to live his life and leave his past behind him. Until a random kid throws a flaming rock into his plans of traveling alone. Why couldn’t he just be selfish?

____________________________

Janus was not one to risk his own life to intervene in other people’s. It just wasn’t who he was.

It stayed the case that it was none of his business while passing a village in flaming doom.

He wasn’t one to be nosey in other people’s spats with the elementals or vengeful spirits that were also none of his business, because the potential of getting irreparably staked in it would mean getting in the way of his self-preserving principles. That was just the sort of thing that would get some other fool, one with a bleeding heart, killed. And Janus was no fool in the slightest. He was in it for himself and didn’t have room in that plan for sticking his neck out for anybody. And that’s why he planned to leave immediately before he drew unwanted attention or saw something he couldn’t un-see.

It seemed he’d lingered too long already as he stared at the alluring blaze, people yelling and scurrying to save possessions more than themselves. Their small forms were easily hidden by the growing flames. Half the wooden buildings were already entirely consumed, the husk roofs and dry paneling only added kindling now, growing the cloud of black smoke towering over the town like a tidal wave cresting.

It was hot even from where Janus stood from the treeline as an on-looker and really wished he knew why he didn’t just walk away now before he somehow got caught up in it. How he’d spotted a scampering child in the chaos of fleeing carts and denizens and domestic animals, he did not know, but they’d caught his attention.

Perhaps it was because this was the only living thing running towards the flames and not away.

No one was trying to stop him as he shoved past hurrying pairs of legs and almost tripped another.

…Only to dart into a weathered house that looked like a repurposed old storage. With the thatch roof and half the side up in flames. Janus gaped and tried to see if anyone else saw that, but they continued on with their own cares. Was literally no one going to stop the senseless half-pint?

It seemed the universe had unfortunately promoted him to active participant now because he’d gone and made the mistake of being a witness. Curse the guilt that clung to his soul, he owed no one anything. Who was his conscience to tell him what to do? How easy it’d be to turn and just leave if not for the threat of knowledge haunting him for the rest of his short life. He couldn’t get involved, he…he was already across the ditch that separated the trees from the dirt road.

Janus didn’t know when he’d fought his way out of the brush to stand outside the door the kid had run through. No one had spared the child a second glance and Janus realized for too long a moment he had already disappeared well inside. Sure, this building on the end of the row slightly back from the others hadn’t caught quite like it had already razed most of the quaint town, the sky amber and raining soot from all the wooden structures the flames devoured and grew from, reaching for more. It would happily take the boy too.

The house wasn’t large at all, at most just two rooms within it. What little had been in it was all but enveloped in flame and at the back of the room was the boy in all his three-and-a-half feet of feral fury, frantically trying to claw and yank his way through a solid door not yet taken by the flames, but close to it.

Janus didn’t know what the hell was so important, but as parts of the thatching fell through flaming, his only goal was snatching the kid and getting out un-barbecued.

Shouldn’t take more than 10 seconds, right?

Within 4 he had crossed the living space with burned hazards like what could’ve been a low table mistaken for a campfire. The kid looked scruffy, in an old green tunic a few sizes too big on his scrawny frame. Janus noted the bedraggled mostly brown hair he didn’t look to have ever attempted combing. He seized the child under their arms, worryingly lighter than he’d anticipated. Oh well, all the easier for him, no time to dwell. Back they went.

Or so he thought.

His plan was thwarted as the child exploded into a fury of limbs now trained on him, entirely ungrateful for Janus’ charitable rescue. A kick to his shin even as he held the child out had him swearing he’d be selfish and jaded the rest of his days.

Janus held the child away from him like you’d hold an angry cat you couldn’t put down, cursing internally. “ You dastardly little heathen, unless you want us to learn what the afterlife is like—“

Janus was cut off by a rather feral snap at his arms.

“Let GO!! I’m getting Roman! I’ll bite your hand off!” he screeched at Janus as if he were kidnapping him from his fiery demise.

Janus gapped at this, brain short-circuiting to process that. Well, it wasn’t because the kid was scared of his scar. “You… what?? Who—“

“MY BROTHER’S IN THERE, I’m not going yet!!” he snarled, desperate trying to throw himself free using his little weight against the traveler, and Janus’ mind stuttered again.

But they didn’t have time for him to leisurely consider that. Okay, so he had to readjust his previous timeframe with this new information. Would a minute work? Two? It would have to, because he didn’t have time and their other exit was far more perilous now.

He all but dropped the kid back onto his feet and grabbed the brass doorknob. The door didn’t budge, either blocked by a collapsed support or from expanding in the flames. Janus hoped it was the latter, otherwise, he didn’t think they’d be getting out alive at all.

“Hello? Kid, you conscious in there?” Janus called through the door even as he pulled up his sleeves. There was no reply, which didn’t help his hopes any.

With one more glance down at the child and seeing an insistent wave at the door and intense pointed stare of shockingly red eyes– had he just been lured by some sort of demon pretending to be a child to his admittedly deserved slow death after all? Was that why no one else had been stupid enough to follow? -- Janus stepped back and rammed his shoulder into the wood with all of his weight. He did it again while trying the doorknob and was relieved when he felt it give inwards, the pain of bruises he could feel blooming again, having him cursing himself for being here.

But if not him, no one, and then two children would be gone because no one had cared. Well, it’d be all three of them now, but they weren’t goners yet and so he wasn’t entertaining it.

Let it never be said that Janus didn’t try once in his life, though.

He coughed from the effort and how hard it was becoming to breathe, the hot air burned his eyes. Heat licking at the back of his neck, He took a step back and ran the four feet of room he had into the door with all his weight. It slammed open with a crack and he fell to the floor due to his commitment to his momentum, groaning.

Smoke billowed at the ceiling but the holes in the roof seemed at least to help in not choking them here. He was really banking on the thickness of the roof’s slats to buy them time before it fully collapsed in, but that thickness would also trap them if it fell early, the weight of it not enough to crush them, but a slow way to die from the surrounding smoke and flames. Janus grimaced.

The rotten goblin child scrambled in over top of him, the audacity. As much as he would rather stay splayed on the relatively cooler earthen floor, he knew he had to get up as the very real possibility of the half-burned roof trapping them at the bottom of what could become a bonfire grew with each passing second. He pulled himself up while grabbing his fallen hat as his shoulder let him know just how reckless it thought he was.

Janus pushed the plank door closed against the inferno behind them. It wouldn’t be a viable exit anymore anyway and might as well buy them time, futile and minuscule as it was.

The air was suffocatingly arid regardless and Janus needed to identify their new exit preferably soon.

The child to his credit was standing on the old bed frame trying to shove the window’s frame outwards and struggling due to his height, back to Janus.

Janus frowned and whirled around, expecting to see another kid occupying the little room. There was an old rumbled thin bed with no sheet and lumpy pillow that looked like a burlap bag stuffed with scrap cloth and wool. A worn brown blanket that looked like it was made the same way a sack would be (was it just a cut sack?) was rumpled on the floor beside the bed, discarded.

Perhaps he was hiding by the old wardrobe that was catty-cornered opposite the bed? But when Janus checked the place over, there was absolutely nowhere for another person to effectively be hidden away, no matter how short. The bed was high enough Janus saw the floor beneath it, also child-free.

Janus’ eyes snapped again to the only kid actually in the room, confused. The kid looked unbothered by a lack of this “brother” around, and only now Janus noticed a little crocheted doll in the crook of his arm, inhibiting his attempts to open the window as he refused to put it down.

Janus blinked a few times as his brain drew a conclusion just as the kid seemed to reach the latch. He gave a gap-toothed grin at his achievement and shoved it open before hopping down quickly and wiggling under the bed.

“I— you—!!“ the caped man sputtered as realization sparked a fiery fury, his blood pressure suddenly louder in his ears than the fire. “You made me break into a room in a burning building to get a doll??!” he hissed, unable to mask the vitriol in his tone.

“I didn’t ask you to come too! I’m his brother, of course I had to get him! Roman can’t move,” the insane child’s muffled voice replied with the tone of someone having to argue the grass was green.

The kid squirmed back out holding a curved circular object that looked like an oversized wooden plate in his hands. It was too shallow to be a bowl and had badly attached leather straps that looked like they were one good tug away from falling off. He then made a grab beside the bed and didn’t seem to be listening as he set the two items down.

Janus had half a mind to chuck the doll in his fury, but as it was they’d already committed to the damn thing, and causing a fuss now would absolutely delay their departure. He wasn’t so sure his rescuee wouldn’t go charging into the fire after it before Janus could grab him. Later, then. He could chuck it back through the window once they were safely outside to teach the child a lesson in self-preservation priorities. “A doll is replaceable!! What, you think you’re indestructible?! Last I checked you're a squishy little brat! Neither of us is fireproof!!”

The mini menace just glared and had the nerve to wiggle past Janus as the adult looked on incredulously.

He shoved the circle out the window first then quickly went for the other on the bed.

“Oh, yes, please do take your time packing, the blazing roof over our heads will wait for you.”

Janus lurched after the kid with his goodwill and patience all but abused and spent. He’d be chucking the kid out at this point because clearly he had not been born with any survival instinct. At all.

The child barely managed to wrap his free hand around the stick of the wooden sword before Janus was hiking him bodily over his shoulder and they were — with as much grace as a fawn on fresh ice— tumbling through the narrow window. It was all Janus could do not to squash the kid as they landed in the dirt.

They had landed and then rolled five feet from the fire and Janus couldn’t find it in him to move any further. Janus could only lie there, somewhat dazed, and coughed faintly. If death somehow still got him at this point, then so be it. Though he somehow forgot he wasn’t the only person here in that too-brief moment.

The kid sat up after 3 seconds of recovering from the rough landing.

He peered down over Janus, tipping Janus’ hat back onto his forehead from where it had rolled off. “Are you dead?”

Janus stared up and blinked slowly as the punctual roof finally fell in, throwing burnt hay and smoke up in the wind. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“Oh. Okay~” the now homeless child shrugged, sitting back beside Janus. The doll was held loosely in his arm as they watched the fire burn down everything manmade in front of them. “I’m Remus!”

“...charmed.”

[spoondrifts]

The letter started unpromisingly with Remus’ horrific scratchy handwriting, spelling out in all caps: HUNDRED YEAR SCAVENGER HUNT. This was followed by a string of exclamation points pressed so hard into the paper that the ink had bled, blurring the punctuation into a mass of black stains.

hello hello and welcome to my sanders sides weird body horror immortal scavenger hunt comedy thing that i wrote in a day and have been editing on & off for the past three weeks, enjoy!

[thebestworstidea]

"Hey Virge."

Virgil looked up from what he was doing. Normally, he wouldn't stop working to talk to anyone when he was on the clock- he took his work seriously.

But he was writing a pop-song, and it was driving him nuts.

He'd been given a phrase and a feeling and was trying to turn it into something worth hearing, while adhering to the bubbly pop psudo punk the client was going for.

Also it was Thomas, and the ghost had been a bit drifty lately, making conversation less frequent.

"Sup." He answered.

"I was wondering." Thomas did that thing he did where he wans't fully visible, but gave the impression he was perching on something- in this case, the edge of Virgil's dresser. "You're an excellent musician, and I've seen you writing all sorts of songs, and mixing music and everything."

"Thanks." Virgil said a little awkwardly. He knew he was pretty good, but it was still weird to hear it, even though that's mostly where he made his money.

"And you said you played in bands back when you lived in the city when someone bugged out."

"Played with this one band almost a year before they found a bassist that didn't suck. I was on their debut album." he agreed.

"How come you never had a band of your own?"

Virgil snorted, but suppressed actual laughter.

"Well first off- I am not front-man material. In the least."

"I suppose that you don't really like being stared at."

"Yes, that too. But that's not why."

Thomas tipped his head (just a bit too far making him look more like a cartoon of a person than a person) and raised his eyebrows. Virgil smiled without thinking, even if it was a little weird. Thomas had started doing things like that shortly after he started manifesting visually. Logan thought it had something to do with how he thought of himself, and one of the first things they'd learned about Thomas was that he really loved cartoons. So if he pictured himself as a cartoon version of himself, his visible form would reflect that.

Virgil wondered if, given time, Thomas might start looking entirely like a cartoon, as he forgot more about himself as a living person.

"One second." He sent a text out. He was pretty sure that Logan and Roman had gone to a museum to be snarky about an exhibit, but Patton was probably in the house. "Alright, if you really want to know, I can show you."

"Please, you have more musical talent in one tooth than I had in my whole body, and I did a lot of singing."

"Uh-huh." Virgil looked at the ghost skeptically. He went over to the door, opened it and called down stairs. "Hey Patton, I'm going to sing."

There was a faint strained whine and then a faint

"Have fun!" followed by a door closing.

"You can do it!" Roman called, a little closer. "I believe in you."

"Oh fuck off." Virgil retorted, and Roman laughed.

Thomas snorted, shifting in place and folding his arms.

"Now you're just being theatrical."

Virgil smiled sarcastically and hummed under his breath. Then he started singing

For a few moments Thomas felt justified. But then- it was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on why but it was wrong. Technically the melody and the tune were there, and he was hitting the notes. But it echoed and it warped and it just sounded wrong, like someone was purposefully playing with sliders on a mixing board.

Outside, Patton started howling, sounding a little hurt himself. Virgil stopped, coughed, and put his hand over his mouth looking a bit embarrassed. There were a few more baying howls, and then an apologetic sounding bark.

"It used to be I just was a little flat, you know? I know how music works." His voice sounded rough. "but not really vocalist quality. But then uh." He looked even more embarrassed. "Something happened, and now my voice does that when I sing. I don't mind that-" Virgil hastened to add. "Since I don't have to sing to play instruments or even write or mix music. But it sounds worse recorded, believe it or not."

"Well." Thomas flickered a bit, and gave a lop sided smile. "There's always death metal."

"A favorite of ghosts everywhere." Virgil agreed, and Thomas laughed himself invisible.

[calethelettuce]

SaSi Intruality Week 6/7: Chaos Cookies - The Electric Boogaloo x2

Prompt: Baking

Tags: @intrualityweek

Synopsis: Patton and Remus are back in the kitchen! The follow up to Day 1's oneshot. Remus finally gets permission to make "cookies". Patton's there to support him and make sure the house doesn't burn down. We've got a shorter one today, my motivation isn't being very nice to me :(

Characters: Patton, Remus, Virgil

Relationships: Romantic Intruality, Implied Prinxiety

TW: Swearing, PATTON SAYS A BAD WORD????!!!?? Glass shards, inedible food items being ingested, eating glass, talk of cremation/burning bodies, sex jokes/implications (don't be surprised), minor description of burnt skin/Remus is being dumb, I MEAN IT GUYS

~

"Remus, buddy, can we keep the glass shards in the bowl, please?"

Remus only continued to mix the dough at a quick pace, snickering to himself as the pieces of once-shiny glass scraped against the sides of the bowl. "You said I have full control today!" he proclaimed, adding the slightest pinch of poison ivy to the concoction, "Therefore, no thanks!"

Patton sighed, shaking his head slightly. "You do you, then, Morningstar."

Patton observed the state of the inedible batter from behind Remus, peering over his shoulder.

It was lumpy, the sharp blade-like edges of the glass sticking out at odd angles. The leaves of poison ivy the green-sashed side threw in stuck out like a sore thumb against the pale colored dough.

"Isn't it great, Patty?" Remus asked proudly, admiring his handiwork with a grin, "I've never made something so delicious before!"

Patton gave him the biggest smile he could muster. "Well..! It's certainly not my taste, but uh, I can definitely see the appeal."

Even Remus could tell he was lying.

Although, instead of getting upset as most would, his smile only grew bigger. "Exactly!" he chirped, grabbing a ball of dough with his bare hands, "Time to throw these fuckers in the the torture chamber!"

Patton handed him a cookie sheet. "Put them on this one please," he practically begged, "I really don't want to clean the oven again."

Remus rolled his eyes but complied. He smashed the ball onto the sheet. "There."

"Good job, bud!"

"Thanks!"

Remus continued to slap the remaining dough balls onto the surface, with Patton holding the sheet out gingerly and carefully as to not get poison ivy from the leaves.

"Remus, does poison ivy still work the same here as it does in the real world?" he asked, nearly avoiding an accidental attack from a loose leaf, "Because if it does, maybe I shouldn't-"

"You'll be fine! I made these, but they only affect me! I made sure of it. It's just these ones that do that, though. If you find any in a forest, then that'll give you the greatest rash this world has ever seen."

Patton shivered at the thought of that. Remus took the pan from him carelessly, pressing a kiss to the shorter side's forehead. "Did we already set the oven to 600?"

"..600?"

"600!" Remus opened the oven door, quickly shoving the pan in before shutting it again. "Wouldn't want us to get cremated!"

"It's not hot enough for the human body to burn, you know." Patton supplied, washing his hands with extra soap, "It's got to be at least 1400 fahrenheit."

Remus stared at him in shock, mouth hung agape. "Holy shit, this is why I love you."

Patton laughed. "Well, even dads can have a dark sense of humor!"

"You're even hotter when you make dark jokes." Remus winked at him, leaning on the counter. "Except you're always hot. You're a certified DILF."

Patton felt his cheeks go red. "I-"

"Shhhh," Remus strode over, putting a finger to Patton's lips. "You're gonna make me horny."

"Stop being gay!" They heard Virgil shout from the living room, "It's too late for your shit, Remus!"

Patton felt his face grow darker. "Virgil, I thought you'd be upstairs by now!"

"Too early. Besides, it's not like I go home, since my house is covered in glitter because of somebody- also known as Remus. It's only 10."

Remus snickered. "I regret nothing, bitch."

Patton kept an eye on the oven to make sure nothing was on fire. He took the messy, empty bowl from the counter, handing it to Remus. "Have a gift for your junkyard! I don't think it's safe for me to use the bowl anymore."

"Awh, thanks Pattycake!" Remus took the bowl gratefully, evaporating it away to his junkpile by the playground outside. "I love that you're thinking about me!"

Patton smiled up at him, hopping onto the tips of his toes to press a kiss to Remus' nose. "Always am!" he chirped, ruffling the taller side's hair.

He heard Virgil groan from his spot on the couch.

"You're just mad you're lonely!" Remus gave the purple-clad side the middle finger. "Cause Princey doesn't want to suck your DI-"

"Remus!"

"My bad, Pat." The timer dinged to signal the cookies were finished. "OH! They're done!"

Well, Patton knew his house was going to smell like burnt cookies for the rest of the week.

Remus took the pan out of the oven with his bare hands, laughing as the sizzling smell of burnt flesh filled the room.

“Holy shit, Remus! Put the pan down!” Patton was little too tempted the smack the pan out of his hands. “You’re gonna burn your hands off!”

Remus plopped the pan down onto the counter. “That was fun!” He declared, “I don’t have fingerprints or palm skin anymore!”

Patton heard Virgil mutter a quiet “oh fuck no-“ before the anxious side ran up the steps to the guest room.

He turned back to Remus. “Come on, honey, I thought we agreed this one was going to be injury free!” He said sadly.

Remus pouted. “But that was fun!” He insisted.

Patton let out a huff. “I know, I know, but you have to keep your promises!”

“…fine.” Remus magicked away his hand burns with a frown, wiggling his fingers for reference. “There.”

Patton gave him a soft smile. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to make you upset, dear.”

“You didn’t.”

Patton gave the taller side a quick hug, resting his head on Remus’ shoulder. “Next time, we can have another baking day where I’ll let you do whatever you want, okay?”

Remus brightened just a bit at that. “Really!?”

“Of course!”

Remus hummed in appreciation, hugging Patton back. “Okay.”

“Now, how about we wait for these cookies to cool?”

“Oh, who needs that!?”

The sudden release of pressure and the sound of crunching glass signaled that Remus was already chomping down on a glass cookie.

Patton knew he was gonna have his work cut out for him this week.

[thecrowslullaby]

Bthb: Virgil locked in a cage?

warning: captivity,painful transformation,minor injury, hurt/comfort

words: 1180

pairings:prinxiety(platonic or romantic)

ao3

“Nonononono.” Virgil’s breath was rapidly getting faster. “This is bad, nonono. Why now. Why today.”

“Hey, hey.” Roman put a hand on his friend’s shoulder, but the man flinched back, as if he was burned. Frantic eyes scanning Roman up and down. “Hey, it’s ok, I’m here with you.”

“That’s the problem!” Virgil snapped, his eyes uncharacteristically wide. “They didn’t put you in another cage!”

“Wow, ouch.” Roman grumbled. “And I thought you liked spending time with me and hey-” he protested as Virgil pushed past him, falling to his knees in front of the door. He grasped the metal bar, shaking it furiously. “Virgil, what are you doing?”

“I need to get you out.”

“Virgil, you’re panicking.”

“They locked us up.”

“Yes, but can we just talk?”

“We don’t have time.” His voice was a mix of fury and fear as he turned towards Roman, and the shorter man swore he black streaks slowly painting their way down Virgil’s cheeks.

“Virgil?” He leaned closer, trying to ignore the pang in his chest when his friend pressed his back against the metal bars. They’ve been imprisoned and the person Virgil wanted to escape most was apparently Roman. No, he reasoned, it’s just stress. “Virgil, are you crying?”

“We need to get you out of here.”

“We need to get us out of here.”

Virgil shook his head.

“There is no time for that.”

“Virgil,” Roman reached for his friend’s cheek, running his thumb up and down the moist skin. He let out a breath when Virgil didn’t flinch away this time. “yo- we need to calm down, ok?”

“There is not time for-”

“Hey, hey.” Roman spoke softly, letting his hands travel down Virgil’s face and arms to gently grasp his hands. “We’re going to escape. It’s going to be ok.” 

“We don’t have time!” He was still shaking, but his voice wasn’t as frantic anymore as he finally locked eyes with Roman.

“Yes, we do.”

“We don’t!”

“Virgil-”

“Roman” Virgil took a deep breath, then another, and another, his shoulders easing up just a bit. “Roman, it’s a full moon tonight.”

“So what?” Roman chuckles. “You think our captors are going to turn into werewolves?”

Virgil didn’t laugh.

“No…” He seemed scared as he stared at Roman. “no, I am.”

There was a long pause and Roman let the words sink in.

“You’re shitting me, right. Is this some kind of joke-”

“I’m being serious, Roman.”

“This… is not good.”

“I fucking told you!” Virgil snapped, his voice raising once more. “You’re stuck here, and if I don’t get you out you’re going to die.”

Roman took in a ragged breath, refusing to be scared. Not when Virgil was panicking as he was. They needed at least one clear head to form a plan, and what were heroes for, if not to do just that.

“You’re not going to kill me.”

“Yeah sure. And I’m not going to turn into a monster too.” Virgil scoffed, but Roman could hear the panic behind his sarcasm. “And while we’re stating wishes I hope our captors will bring us some cake too.”

“Virgil.”

“Nono, it’s not like we’re completely fucked. It’s not like-”

“Virgil.” Roman grabbed his face softly, guiding it back to face him.”You’re not going to hurt me.”

“I can’t promise.”

“You don’t have too.” Roman cut him off with a smile he didn’t quite feel. “Because I promise. That you won’t hurt me.”

“It doesn’t work like that, Roman.”

“It does, because I trust you, ok?” He held Virgil’s gaze for a few seconds before the other man closed his eyes. Letting out a chuckle that didn’t sound cheery in the slightest.

“You’re a moron.” The fondness with which he said it made Roman crack the first smile since they got captured that didn’t feel forced.

“But I am your moron.”

“Not for long.”

Roman pretended not to hear the last comment in favor of guiding Virgil’s head to his lap.

“What makes you relax?”

“Not being about to murder my best friend.”

Roman rolled his eyes.

“I mean what can I do to make you feel more at ease?”

Virgil felt silent and Roman started to worry the man started to spiral away into panic. He opened his mouth, another reassurance already forming on his lips when Virgil spoke up, his voice quiet and vulnerable.

“Can you stroke my hair?”

Roman didn’t have to be told twice. He sunk his hand into the raven black hair, massaging the scalp. He smiled when the body on his lap started to relax.

“I’m sorry.” Virgil whispered.

“You haven’t done anything to be sorry for.”

“I might-” his voice sounded as if he was crying. Roman decided not to press. “-I might not be able to.”

“You might not have to apologize.”

Virgil let out a wet chuckle.

“God, why are we even friends? You’re so optimistic.”

“Someone has to balance you out.”

“You know. I always thought-” Virgil cut himself off with a loud hiss, Roman heard himself joining as the man’s nails dug into his thigh. 

“Virgil.”

“Sorry.” The man groaned, deeper than Roman was used too. His voice seemed to echo in his throat as he spoke. “I’m sorry, Ro. I’m soo-aaargh. Nrgh.”

The grip on his tight tightened, he was sure his friend drew blood, but it hardly mattered at this moment. 

He wrapped his arm around Virgil, pulling him into an awkward hug as the man struggled to break free.

“Shhhh, shhhhh, Virgie.” He spoke softly, fighting to keep the fear out of his voice. “It’s ok, I’m here. It’s ok.”

He winced as Virgil shifted, digging his nails into his chest. The cut wasn’t deep. 

Yet.

He pulled him closer.

“I trust you ok?”

Virgil groaned in response.

Roman moved his hand from Virgil’s head to his back, rubbing small circles into the fur as he hummed a lullaby.

His friend’s breath was still ragged, but he didn’t seem in pain anymore as he pressed their chests together, nearly knocking Roman onto the ground.

“There, there.” Roman whispered as he planted his face in the crook of Virgil’s neck. “It’s ok now.”

Virgil let out a sound between a groan and a scoff, his body tense.

Fortunately, Roman wasn’t one for quitting. And so he rubbed his hand up and down until he felt Virgil relax, he rubbed it until the man pressed all of his body weight against Roman, he didn’t stop when he heard the man softly snore.

“Who would have thought all I needed to trick you into peaceful sleep was to have you turn into a werewolf.” Roman chuckled softly. “It almost makes me wish the full moon was every night.”

He shifted slightly under Virgil, careful not to wake the man up as he placed his friend’s head on his lap. The man gave a displeased snore at the shift, but soon he settled again. Melting under Roman’s touch.

He would keep watch until the moon set, and tomorrow? Tomorrow they will come up with a plan to escape.

[loganscroftersstash]

guys i just updated my fic go like and comment r whatecer!!!!!!

[stardustsides]

Love is a Beach

Chapter 2

Chapter 1

Patton and Janus broke up months ago. The problem? They still haven’t told their friends, and their annual beach trip is looming. Not wanting to break the news and ruin the vacation, they come to an…unconventional agreement.

Pairings: Moceit, background Prinxiety

Content Warnings: Drinking/flashback to underage drinking, drunkenness, breakups, lmk if i missed anything!!

Word Count: ~2100

Author’s Note: The second chapter is here!! Writing the flashback in this chapter made me miss freshman year of college so bad actually i need to go back i fear.

~

Janus stood in the emptiness of the master bedroom and stared at the space where Patton had been. The late afternoon sun spilled across the polished hardwood floor, painting the room in a hazy gold. Muffled from downstairs, he could hear him telling Virgil that he would cook after all tonight, which didn’t surprise him in the slightest. He knew from six years of being in a relationship with the man that he cooked under stress. Memories of coming home to their apartment to find Patton in the kitchen surrounded by trays upon trays of cookies came flooding back to him, and his heart gave a painful tug.

He blew out a careful, measured breath and sat on the corner of the bed. He hadn’t been lying—Patton really was a terrible actor, which provided two massive problems for Janus: one, because they had to keep the charade up all week, and two, because Janus secretly found Patton’s complete inability to lie one of his most endearing qualities.

Really, this had been a terrible idea to begin with, but when he had come over to the apartment to pick up his things, he couldn’t help but notice the deep circles under Patton’s puffy red eyes, his unkempt hair, his rumpled shirt. No matter how upset with each other they still were, when Patton had turned to look at him, the only thing that he wanted to do was close the space between them, take him into his arms, and smooth down his hair. Even now, he hated seeing him so upset. And so, he did the only thing that he could think to do:

Propose the world’s worst plan.

They still hadn’t told the others about the breakup yet. It was getting to the point where it was starting to worry Janus, so he could only imagine how much it was destroying Patton. If the bags under his eyes were any indication, he had been turning the question of how to tell them over and over in that worrywart way of his. And so, the plan was concocted: by keeping the act up until after their vacation, they both got to enjoy one final week of normalcy with their friends, and it gave them time to cool down enough that when they did break the news, they could at least present a united front.

And, though he wouldn’t admit it, the selfish part of him wanted to avoid the crushing finality of telling everyone for as long as possible.

It seemed like a good idea at the time, but then again, his brain had always seemed to turn to mush when it came to Patton.

The bastard was impossible not to adore.

And so, here he was, sitting on the edge of the bed that he would be sharing with his ex-boyfriend for the next week, in a lovely little house that he could so clearly picture the two of them sharing a life in, surrounded by all of their closest friends.

One week. That was all he had to get through.

One week, and then everything would change.

~

Dinner was, of course, delicious.

Janus twirled his spaghetti around his fork and tried to look as nonchalant as possible, situated directly next to Patton. He cut a sidelong glance at him—at the very least, he seemed a fraction less tense than a few hours ago, which he supposed was an improvement. He had been white-knuckling the steering wheel on the ride over.

His face was also prettily flushed, the way it always was after a few glasses of wine, which Janus was valiantly trying to ignore.

“This is wonderful, dear,” Janus said as naturally as he could. Patton started a little.

“Thank you!” He responded, the flush creeping down to his neck and beneath the collar of his shirt. A small, traitorous part of Janus’s brain wondered how far down it went. “…honey.”

“I was thinking we could all head down to the beach at around ten tomorrow?” Roman cut in brightly. “Make some sandwiches, bring a cooler?”

“Sounds good to me,” said Virgil, picking at his salad. In spite of himself, Janus had to fight back a smile. Roman could have suggested they all walk over hot coals at six AM sharp, and Virgil would have readily agreed.

“Everyone good for margaritas after dinner?” Roman asked. He had worked as a bartender in college, and as such, always took it upon himself to make drinks for the group at large. Not that Janus complained. Roman knew exactly how Janus liked his drinks–syrupy sweet, the alcohol nearly undetectable–and scarcely teased him for it.

Patton nodded so emphatically that a bit of white wine from the glass that he was holding nearly sloshed over the side, and understanding hit Janus like a stone sinking in water. He’s planning on getting drunk.

Janus could hardly blame him–the thought had crossed his mind too, as a way to cope with the comically uncomfortable situation the two of them had found themselves in–but Patton was a notoriously chatty drunk.

The first time they had all drank together as a group was in freshman year, sitting in a cramped circle around Roman and Patton’s shared dorm room, playing some drinking game that Roman had found online and nursing some truly disgusting vodka mixers with whatever beverages they could scavenge from the vending machines. It had been two years before he and Patton had started dating, and at the time, Janus had been determinedly ignoring the way his stomach swooped at the sound of his laugh like a bird dipping and gliding in the air. He knew fully well from his older sister what happened to friend groups when two of the members started dating. Despite having only met in August, these were some of the closest friends that Janus had ever had, and he wasn’t willing to give it up on the off chance that Patton liked him back.

On his left, Logan took a shot of New Amsterdam, his face scrunching up in disgust as the others cheered. On his right, Patton, leaning against his dresser and eyes slightly unfocused, shushed them halfheartedly, mumbling something about keeping quiet for the RA. Remus reached to the deck of cards in the center of their lopsided circle, and drew the top one, crowing, “Queen!”

“Whaddoes that one do again?” Virgil asked, readjusting the weighted dinosaur from Patton’s bed he was holding in his lap. He hadn’t relinquished it all night.

“I gotta ask someone a question, then that person asks someone else a question, and so on. First person who doesn’t want to answer drinks. Logan–what’s the worst grade you’ve ever gotten in a class?”

Logan blushed beet red and glared down into his red solo cup, as if trying to divine the answer from his rancid blue Gatorade mixer. At last, he mumbled, “A B. Plus. In junior year English.”

They all roundly booed him.

Logan straightened up and cast his gaze around the circle. “Um…Patton. What is the worst thing you’ve done in the past week?”

Patton’s eyes immediately widened, and he looked guiltily down at the floor. “Yes’trday, I…killed a spider.”

“The horror,” said Remus.

“I didn’ mean to, it jus’ startled me!” Patton said, the alcohol slurring his words together. They had never gotten drunk together as a group before, and Janus suspected that this may be Patton’s first time getting drunk at all.

“‘S alright, Pat,” Virgil snorted, not much more sober than Patton was. “‘S your turn.”

Patton immediately perked up. “So I ask a question?”

“Yep!” Roman said from Patton’s other side.

“Can be anything,” Remus added.

Patton thought for a moment, then turned to Janus so suddenly he startled. Patton’s face was inches away from his, eyes glittering, a pretty flush on his cheeks. ”Janus!” he chirped, and nearly tipped forward into Janus’ lap. “Do you like me?”

The reaction was immediate. Remus choked on his drink, and Roman made a noise that was somewhere between a hysterical laugh and a delighted gasp. Logan’s mouth fell open as he gaped at Patton, and Virgil, despite his inebriation, tugged at Patton’s hand firmly and gave him a pointed glare, hissing, “Pat.”

Janus sat rooted to the spot, the world seeming to tip beneath him. He couldn’t tear his gaze away from Patton, looking at him so earnestly with those melted chocolate eyes, his lips slightly parted. He was so close that Janus could count the freckles on his face.

He could feel the response on his tongue; could feel the shape of the words, the weight of them. He opened his mouth, and managed a humiliating sound that was something like a frog croaking, which made the twins laugh even harder.

Yes, his brain screamed at him. Yes, I do, and if you keep looking at me like that, I might fall in love with you, too.

Instead, he took a sip of his drink.

~

Now he sat on the couch, margarita in hand and trying his best to ignore the way his nerve endings lit up at every square inch of Patton’s body pressed against his side.

They were all a few drinks deep by now; the twins had insisted on playing drinking games, despite the fact that they were certainly getting too old for such things. Still, it was a welcome distraction: facing off against Roman and Virgil with Remus in a game of pong as Logan and Patton watched bemusedly from the couch was a welcome distraction. At some point, though, he had tapped out, swapping places with Logan, and now he found himself on the couch with Patton.

The room had gone pleasantly fuzzy around the edges; Janus closed his eyes, allowing himself to savor the feeling. His friends were together, the house was quaint and cozy, and Patton was leaning against him, his warmth as comforting as Janus remembered. He could almost pretend that everything was as it should be; that he and Patton were still together, and that they could sit like this again, curled up on each other, not having to worry about jumping back as if the other had burned them.

Janus shoved the thought away; it wasn’t fair to Patton to let himself pretend. They had broken up, and Patton had probably moved on by now. Regardless of whatever lingering feelings Janus still had for him, he needed to respect that.

Patton shifted, and his head lolled gently against Janus’ shoulder. He had been strangely quiet all night—at least he was keeping his lips sealed about the agreement—but Janus was being very much reminded what a cuddly drunk Patton was.

He supposed he should be grateful; if Patton hadn’t decided to sit next to him, it might have seemed suspicious. But him sitting here brought on a new host of problems, chief of which is that Janus would have given anything for the two of them to stay there forever.

He blinked rapidly, trying to clear his mind. The breakup was his own fault, after all; if he had wanted this forever, then he should have stepped up when he had the chance. But still, that wouldn’t have been fair to Patton.

Things are better this way, he told himself firmly. He had been repeating the words over and over again for the past few months, hoping that one day, he’d believe them.

He shifted, and found himself nose-to-nose with Patton, who was blearily blinking up at him through long eyelashes. Janus didn’t know how long he had been staring at him like that.

“Hello,” Janus said, hoping that the flush in his cheeks could be chalked up to the alcohol. “Enjoying the party?”

“Mmmhm,” Patton mumbled sleepily. “Dr’nk too much.”

“I can see that.”

Patton’s brow furrowed, face scrunched up in a pout. “Mean.”

“Honest.” He could feel Patton’s soft curls tickling his chin. “Perhaps we should get you to bed.”

“No,” he whined. “‘M comfy.”

“You won’t be when you wake up on the couch tomorrow with a terrible hangover.”

He poked Janus in the arm. “You’re comfy.”

“Patton,” Janus said, sterner this time. This—whatever this was—couldn’t happen. “Come on, let’s get up.”

“You going to bed?” Roman asked from the pong table, wincing as Logan sank a shot into one of his cups.

“Mhm,” Janus said, looping an arm around a very reluctant Patton. “Someone had a bit too much to drink.”

“‘M fine,” Patton insisted, an argument that was made less convincing by the way he started hiccuping.

“Bed, Patton.”

Remus snorted. “Don’t let him trip up the stairs!” He called after them.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” Janus said back easily, even as Patton stumbled over his own feet.

They were almost to the landing, Patton tucked against Janus’ side, when Janus heard him mumble, almost too quietly for him to hear it, “I wish you din’ break up with me.”

If Janus hadn’t been so focused on getting him safely to bed, he might have accidentally dropped him. A million emotions clawed their way through his body, filling up his heart: guilt, longing, anger towards himself.

He pushed them all down and readjusted Patton under his arm. “I promise, Patton. It’s better this way.”

TAGLIST: @bluejay-of-the-west @scare-amor @harmonialcollisions @emoprincey @dragonboots @just-my-interpretation @spicycreativity @infawrit10 @emophoenixreborn @6-paris-6 @thedeadandthedecaying @moceit @lily-janus @instantromannoodles @betamash @nandysparadox @halfhissandwich @sanderssidesthehouse @littlerat2 @giraffeboat

[warcats-cat]

A Knight and His Prince

Virgil contemplates his relationship with his beloved prince, Roman. Patton contemplates his relationship with his son and said son's first love.

Lots of fluff with a twist 💜

A/N: My piece for a little exchange among friends; my giftee being @its-the-cat-queen! It was so much fun to write for her aus; a nice pile of fluff to counteract my usual angst ;)

That being said I genuinely don't know what to tag this with so please let me know if I need to add anything. Enjoy!!

Read on Ao3 here!

-----

The early evening around them was warm, washing their camp in the soft glow of sunset; the firelight kissed Roman’s beautiful face as the dark creeped in around them. The prince had let his little hare out to sniff at the dandelions; the bounty of late summer. Virgil carefully removed his hood, laying it on one of the large stones they’d pulled forward as seats to rest on.

Roman was inspecting his sword again, running his hand carefully over smooth steel and worn leather. His crown was set just barely askew on his head. Virgil smiled to himself; his prince never could quite keep the circlet balanced, but he dared not take it off.

It’s possible he loved the crown almost as much as he loved Virgil.

The thought made Virgil’s smile widen, just a bit, as he plopped down next to his prince and leaned his head on his shoulder.

“It’s been a good day today,” Roman said, wrapping his arm around the knight. Virgil hummed in lieu of an answer, listening to the prince’s steady heartbeat and honey voice. “I’m looking forward to the journey home.” He turned to Virgil, his face alight with a new idea, “We should throw a ball! And invite the whole kingdom, and we can even set out food for the poorer families, so everyone can enjoy the festivities.”

Virgil’s smile widened further at that; “My father would object to the entire affair if we didn’t provide an actually nutritious meal alongside the party treats. Not to mention, only one of your dads’ cooking is edible.” Both paused for a moment, shuddering as they remembered Roman’s papa Remus being left to his own devices in the kitchens one fateful night. The green pile of goo that had been set out on plates as if it was anything close to food. The horror from Roman’s dad Patton when the king returned to find such a sad excuse for a meal.

Although, Roman and Virgil had ended up feasting on roasted chickens tossed in bread crumbs and golden strips of potatoes that evening, after the initial disgust and panic; it was the highest form of cuisine, in Roman’s humble opinion.

The rumble of Roman’s words in Virgil’s ear was soft, comforting. Even when laughing, the prince stayed gentle for Virgil’s sake. He felt Roman’s arm wrap around his shoulders, and the prince began carding fingers through his knight’s hair as he rambled, planning out the grandiose party they would host.

After a while, Roman’s hare hopped closer to the pair, and the prince lifted her gently into his lap to stroke her ears. He went quiet, staring off into the middle distance as if contemplating the woods beyond. The crackle of their fire and the calls of distant birds was the only noise for a long while, before suddenly Roman looked to Virgil again and asked, “Will you dance with me?”

Virgil flushed, a little embarrassed, as he admitted, “I don’t know how to dance. And we don’t have any music.” The rabbit turned to sniff at his cheek, as if sensing his discomfort.

“I could teach you,” Roman said gently. “It’s easier to learn when you can go slow.” He gently nudged the rabbit off his lap, and she wandered away to forage for more treats, always staying close enough to watch the pair. Roman stood, and offered a hand to Virgil, which the knight took with little hesitation. The prince pulled him close, so that they were chest to chest, and put a careful hand around Virgil’s waist.

Roman was always so warm; his hands soft and welcoming, his heart steady and soothing. Virgil felt himself relax, even if he was about to make a fool of himself. He faintly remembered one of his fathers trying to teach him a few steps, all while Virgil stood on the tops of the elder’s feet.

It hadn’t gone well.

Roman began to carefully guide the pair in simple motions, holding Virgil’s hand and waist, leading him with confidence. If it were anyone else, the knight would have been staring at his feet, flushed scarlet in shame. But this was Roman, his Roman, who never looked at him unkindly.

His Roman, who sat with him as they shared books, and praised him for his ideas, and protected him from all of the strange beasts of the world. His Roman, who had never laughed at him, only with him. His Roman, who was staring into his eyes right now with all the adoration in the world, making Virgil feel like he could do anything.

His Roman, whose crown was slipping off his head again.

Virgil laughed, gently pushing the prince back and reaching up to straighten the crown. The taller man bent slightly, so Virgil could reach, and Virgil couldn’t resist the swell of bravery he felt as he softly leaned closer to kiss the prince’s forehead after the crown was set.

When Roman met his eyes next, they were filled with awe. As if Virgil had just slain some magnificent beast, or done something amazingly heroic. His hand came to caress Virgil’s cheek as they stared at each other.

“I love you,” Roman whispered, as if the world were only them. “I’m the luckiest man alive, because I have you by my side.” The prince returned Virgil’s kiss with his own to Virgil’s cheek, and Virgil felt his face heating once more.

“I love you too,” Virgil replied softly, almost surprised as the words came out of his mouth. “You make me feel like I can do anything in the world.” They pressed their foreheads together, feeling the world around them go soft and quiet’ as if it was only them, only this spot, that made up the entire universe.

But, of course, the moment had to end, as a familiar voice split the air from father off in the field.

“Roman! Your daddy’s here to pick you up!”

       ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patton couldn’t help a giggle at watching the two toddlers, even from afar. Roman’s face was split with a bubbly smile as he led Virgil, hand in hand, over from the edge of the playground. Virgil had his own tiny smile, and followed Roman like he was the other boy’s whole world. He was so proud of his baby; always looking after his little friend. Poor Virgil had had such a rough first month at daycare, and now he and Roman were almost attached at the hip.

“Daddy!” the kiddo cried, “Daddy we played prince again!” Roman’s yellow paper crown slipped from his head, (Patton suspected it wasn’t for the first time today) and Virgil tugged lightly on their conjoined hands, making the bubblier toddler stop.

It was hard not to squeal, watching as little Virgil retrieved the accessory, and very carefully set it back on Roman’s head, as if it really was made of gold. Patton also noticed that Virgil was carrying their shared toy, Mrs Fluffybottom, in the pocket of his onesie, and it was vaguely reminiscent of a kangaroo.

“Princes, again?” Patton asked, crouching down in front of the two boys. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the daycare attendant walk away, knowing Patton would take both boys home today. Roman nodded, and hummed an affirmative, his whole body bouncing with his excitement. Virgil, too, was bouncing, just a bit, and he swung their conjoined hands lightly.

“I’s a knight today.” the smaller toddler said softly. The daycare was doing a lot to help the boy with his confidence, and by extension, his enunciation. Still, Virgil speaking up at all was rare, preferring to follow Roman’s leads and let the other boy talk for him when adults or other kids were around. Patton gave the boy a warm smile, and ruffled both kiddos’ hair at the same time, producing the sweet sound of giggling.

“I’m sure you were a very brave knight,” Patton said, offering an arm in case Virgil wanted to be picked up. Both boys gave the affirmative, and Patton found himself with both arms full, hefting the two toddlers up and heading towards his car. “Are you kiddos excited for your sleepover tonight?”

Roman cried “Yeah!” as loud as he could, and Virgil hummed again, nodding against Patton’s shoulder. “Virgie is the best knight EVER!” he hollered, pulling his wooden sword from his pocket and kicking his feet as Patton buckled them in. “We’re gonna build a castle an’ bring out all the animals to be our subjects, an’ we’re gonna throw a party an’ invite everybody from all over!” He started to babble, planning out the story he and Virgil would be playing out when they got home; occasionally pausing to ask Virgil his opinion or ideas, to which the other boy offered that same soft smile and warm voice. They would have a ball, and dancing, and cake (if daddy said yes). Patton had a feeling he and Remus would end up in attendance at some point, and was already looking forward to seeing his eccentric artist husband crouching to play with their boy; whether that be crawling around as the monster for him to slay, or sitting cross legged at the coffee table holding a pink plastic teacup.

Patton loved how much Remus wanted to encourage Roman’s ideas. He loved how vibrantly Roman saw the world. He loved being the king to Roman’s storybook prince.

Patton tried to listen in as he drove, happy to hear his son so happy; and happier still to hear Virgil softly following along. He remembered a few months ago when the pair had met; the initial worry to find out that Roman was being bullied by a few of his classmates (and more worry to think that the boy hadn’t told them), and then not two days later Roman coming home to say that a brave knight had appeared to save him from those meanies. Then said he wanted said knight to come over and play after school.

Patton also remembered meeting Virgil’s fathers, being more than a little relieved to find that he and Remus weren’t the only gay couple in the neighborhood anymore, and there wouldn’t be any awkward comments or meetings for the boys’ sakes. Knowing that separating the kiddos would only do more damage to their development.

The pair really were wonderful for each other.

Roman helped Virgil feel safe, and the teachers had told both families how Virgil was more likely to try new foods for lunch, explore and play away from the teachers. He had even pet a porcupine when the class went to the zoo a few weeks ago. Patton had the photo of both kiddos gently touching the quills in wonder framed and attached to the fridge; he knew Logan had done the same.

In turn, Virgil reminded Roman to be more mindful and gentle. Patton smiled as he remembered taking the boys to the park so all four parents could actually talk, and watching Roman lead Virgil around by his hand, but also constantly check in on the smaller boy. Asking Virgil’s opinions, what he wanted to do, was he tired or thirsty?

Not that Roman had been fussy or selfish, but he had a loud and vibrant personality, and used to be prone to forgetting his manners. Now, though, Roman was more patient and careful. Always attentive to Virgil, and by extension, the other people around him. Even when Virgil wasn’t around, Roman had stopped throwing his toys around when he was upset, and more often asked his questions with please’s and thank-you’s.

Patton snuck another glance at the boys from the rear-view mirror, and his heart absolutely melted as he watched Roman lean over from his car seat and give Virgil a little kiss on the back of his hand, just like the knights and princes in his favorite movies.

Tonight, they would have pizza and maybe some ice cream, and cuddle up to watch movies. He and Remus would be tasked with building a fantastic castle of pillows and blankets. All of their little ‘kingdom’s’ stuffies would be brought out in force. If Patton was lucky, he’d get some pictures from the entire affair; if he was especially lucky, he would get a picture in the morning, of the two toddlers snuggled up in a messy blanket nest, exhausted from their fun.

Yeah. The kiddos would be okay.

[elmaxlys]

Post High-Rise AU

for @normalsnails (i swear it gets Juoka at some point)

After they come back, the people the closest to God retain some of their powers (heightened senses, speed and strength, mostly, and accelerated regeneration. they tend to give strong static shocks, too). Since it's only a few of them concerned, it is something unknown from the large public. The clones stayed in the high-rise world with Tenma as Admin so the worlds don't merge.

When they came back it was chaos: some people had lost their homes, some people's partners have moved on, accepting them as dead, some were waiting with hope only to find that out of all the people who disappeared, only, like 15% came back. There are riots. They interview the adults who were taken and came back: they all let Yayoi talk, and she's not saying much. The only thing the public knows for sure is every single survivor is highly traumatized.

Yuri's cheery behavior falls as soon as she's not the face of the survivors. She falls into her parents arms and cries and cries and cries. She is left with extreme chronic fatigue, stomach problems and brain fog. She can't go back to school.

Rika does. He's older than his peers since he got taken mid school year. And everyone already knew him from before because it's people Yuri's age he's having class with so they all know him as Yuri's cool brother. But they also know he's come back from the other dimension and he's got that weird tension and intensity that make many people feel uncomfortable in his presence. He doesn't take up kendo again: he's afraid he'll accidentally kill someone. Of course he was fired from his part time job: who tf takes months off without notice? He doesn't look for a job for the time being. He wants to be more stable. Wants the news to die down, not to be immediately identified as one of the survivors.

Yuuka went back to South Africa (? i don't remember if it was said explicitly in the special so if it's not take is as a hc) to remove himself as much as possible as everything that happened. He starts working on his thesis again, drowning himself in his studies and tobacco to forget. But he can't. He still feels like he can hear Kuon's spirit talking to him - but she's not there. She couldn't make the trip. Wouldn't. He resents her for that. He clings to that resentment not to see what's underneath: loneliness. Fear. Grief. He doesn't call Rika. Doesn't pick up when he does.

So Rika gets more and more isolated. He still dreams of Yuuka and Yuri dying. He dreams of killing himself, too. Of getting killed. Of Takeda dying in front of him. Of all the people he's crushed with his hammer. He keeps himself awake at night so he doesn't have to see that. He somehow maintains his grades. He clings to his dream of getting in law school but he feels no real drive anymore.

There are support groups made for survivors. Most of the people who join were somewhat passive survivors. None of the higher powers feel legitimate to go. Yuri can't move, anyway. Nise is too busy trying to survive. Ein too, she doesn't remember her past. She doesn't know if she should start looking: she identifies by the sword, now. And Rika... Rika needs to take care of someone so he goes.

His presence is reassuring for the people. He was always the steadfast one. The one who protected them, cooked for them, took care of the building they had all converged to. And Rika needs to feel depended on or he'll break, just like when Yuuka left and he recreated himself as a big brother for Yuri instead. So he goes. He brings pastries. He listens but doesn't talk much. He knows people feel better by the simple fact he's sitting there with them. He feels guilty about that.

He needs to talk, though. And to let out the stress. He considers smoking - but he doesn't. He calls Yuuka - but Yuuka doesn't answer. He talks to Yuri - but she falls asleep mid-conversation. He wants to talk to his parents - but they look so tired and afraid. He wants to ram his head against the wall and open his scar up - but the one time he did, the wall broke.

So he calls Juo.

When they had come back, Juo had left almost immediately. He had kept himself on the line after Yuri had saved him but didn't do any effort either. The only people who interacted with him were Rika and Haruka, much to the dismay of her father, still traumatized by the brainwashing. Azuma was pretty isolated too, tho, due to his betrayal, so he couldn't say much to Haruka about Juo.

Juo hadn't cared about the eyes on him, surveilling his every movement. He could deflect bullets and everyone knew that. He could break sword blades with his bare hands and everyone knew that as well. He could brainwash you. He could steal your powers. He could do so much. So no one bothered him either: if you attack him, he'll retaliate - and who knows if he won't change his mind about not killing if you so much as bother breathing too loud next to him? Juo doesn't give a crap but they don't know that.

Since the beginning, Juo only cared about Rika. And once the Administrator was taken care of, that crossed that vengeance off. So truly, he only had eyes for Rika. Haruka was fun to have around too - she liked to nap on his lap for some reason. When they had found the other world where Taisei had fled to, Juo had stayed behind to look over the bodies of the ones who were sent as clouds: most of their top fighters were gone after all. Rika had still dispatched his angels to keep an eye on him - and their bodies.

The worlds had merged, they found another, stuff happened, an agreement was reached with Tenma and after yet another merging, Yuri left the Administrator role to her clone - and they were all returned to Earth.

He went back to his previous life. His bike was stolen, of course - and his room was rented to someone else. All he had left was the little money he had on his account, his body - minus one eye - and his connections. He went to see people. Got hired as a fighter in illegal scenes. Got a decent reputation. Rented a room above a brothel run by a woman he had met when he had ran from home the first time. She hired him as security, but he still fights on the side: he needs the high of fighting.

One day he gets a call from an unknown number. He always picks up, so he does this time as well. It's Rika.

That night, Rika meets with him at the arena. Juo doesn't fight that day but it's noisy, it's dark, they can talk, they can get violent if needed. It's perfect apart from the fact it's not a neutral ground and clearly Juo's turf.

Rika doesn't ask how it's going. Juo can clearly see it on Rika's face. Rika is tense, but when is he not? Juo is just as relaxed as he's always been. Rika says he needs to let off steam. Juo smiles. Rika says one punch from him can still kill someone. Juo holds back during his fights, but some opponents still died. Rika looks at him straight in the eye and says "I want to fight you." Juo doesn't turn him down.

They find a secluded area and they go all out. Rika gets out with a broken fist and a bleeding face but for the first time in a long while he feels like he can breathe. They sit in the rubble for a long time, breathing hard as the sun starts to rise.

"Sometimes I feel like it would have been easier if we stayed back there."

It escapes him. He doesn't really think it - he knows it's much safer here. He knows it was horrible and made him do horrible things. But he can't shake the feeling that Earth is the place that is wrong, now. He's made for somewhere else, what with the freakish strength he exploded the pavement with this night again.

Juo says nothing. Rika isn't looking at him so he doesn't even know if he's listening. He buries his head in his hands. He can't do this anymore. He has no aggression left in his body (for now) but the tension is back. He says it. "I can't do this anymore."

"Then don't," comes the response.

Rika turns to Juo, caught by surprise.

"Do whatever the hell you want. No one can stop you, anyway." He smirks. "Except me."

Rika can't help the smile he feels appearing on his lips. "I don't even know what I want - I'm not sure I want anything anymore."

"Well today you wanted to fight: so you fought. Tomorrow you go through the same process. And the day after." He shrugs. "That's the only way worth living."

So the next day Rika calls him again. And they fight bloody again. And the day after that Rika calls him again. And they get drunk and Rika spills it all about his nightmares. And the next day Rika doesn't call but he's waiting for Juo at the end of his shift. He watches him fight. They kiss after Juo's victory. It tastes like iron and alcohol. Their mouths are bloody.

Rika isn't okay. Everyone can see it. He still shows up to the support group, but with busted lips, or a black eye, or wearing a brace. His grades are still up but he sleeps in class. He accidentally breaks PE equipment. He barely eats. Still cooks, tho. He brings Yuri her plate and he sits next to her. His words seem to have stopped. So Yuri tries to fill the void. She's texting Nise, these days. She's doing fine, apparently. She found a job.

They start playing video games again. They can play one round or two before Yuri can't anymore. She falls asleep in front of their favorite animes and Rika carries her to bed. His knuckles are bruised but he's careful not to put blood on her. He finishes his homework.

The people at school now openly avoid Rika. He meets bad people. Gets up to shady business. Sometimes a biker comes to pick him up. Leather, tattoos, long hair, cigarettes... Not the kind of guy you want to get involved with. Yet Rika - former model student Rika - meets him with a smile.

One day someone sees them kissing: in a week, everybody knows. Rika doesn't care anymore. But someone tells Yuri. And Yuri doesn't know if she should talk to Rika about it. He has said nothing about meeting with someone, but the only times he stays out he comes back all beaten and bruised. She's worried.

Rika graduates. Gets into the school he wanted. He has stopped trying to contact Yuuka. The hat he used to cherish so much is full of dust in his closet. He wonders if he should move out. He doesn't want to leave Yuri but he needs to get away from their parents.

One day, an acquaintance of Juo, and he has really few good acquaintances, picks a fight with him. Rika is too used to fighting with Juo with no restrictions. He doesn't pull his punch.

He spends the next week throwing up. Takeda's image superimposes with the one of the guy he killed that night. He needs to get away. He can't. He has Yuri, classes in a few days, the support group meeting every Wednesday. He runs cold, then unbearably hot. His fingers are numb.

Juo calls first. Rika's hands are trembling as he picks up.

A few hours later, someone rings at their door. The parents are at work. Rika doesn't leave the bathroom. Yuri opens the door. It's Juo. She hasn't seen him in a year but he looks like he's doing fine. "Where's Rika?" he asks. And she understands many things, suddenly.

She leads him to the bathroom. They can both hear him cry. Yuri knocks at the door. "Rika?" He's throwing up again. She tries opening the door and thankfully he didn't lock it. The place where he's holding the toilet has caved under his hands. They're bleeding, cut by the shards.

They patch him up. They sit him on his bed. Juo stands back to the door, arms crossed. Yuri is kneeling in front of Rika as he tells her what happened. How he feels every life he's taken on his fingers, weighing on his hands.

He leaves with Juo. He brings the minimum: it's not like Juo's room has a lot of space anyway.

He sleeps for two days straight. He constantly feels cold. Or too hot. No in-between. He doesn't fight with Juo anymore, he just asks him to fuck him into oblivion. He doesn't get out of the room. He does answer Yuri's calls, tho.

"I want to die," he whispers one day, and he hears Yuri cry on the other end.

Yuuka calls. Rika doesn't pick up. "I got my doctorate :)" is the text that comes soon after.

And that reminds Rika of that old promise they made. He fights the urge to type "you win" and just says congrats instead.

He starts fighting Juo again. Everything he was feeling up until now shifts to become rage against himself. He screams his lungs out. He's bleeding again. And it hurts, but in a good, controlled way. And when he kisses Juo, both their mouths bloody, for the first time in a while, he's smiling.

He'd killed before. He'd kill again. He'd seen death from way too close and he had her on speed dial. But he had a tether anchoring him down. You could see the bone of his bruised knuckles, fingers tangled in thick black hair, leaving trails of blood all over his lover who did the same right back at him.

[threecrowsinatrenchcoat]

Chapter 33: Now, Remus

[AO3 Link]

Remus woke in an unfamiliar bed. He was warm and comfortable, and well-rested in a way he only ever was after a night in an inn. He and Janus rarely had the cash to spare for one of the nice inns, but when they could, they did. Janus always spend a good hour setting up protections on the room before they slept, and mornings were usually a hurried affair of putting on their disguises and leaving before the other inn patrons had begun gathering in the meal hall for breakfast. 

This morning was different. For one, Janus wasn’t even in the room. It took Remus’ drowsy brain a few minutes to remember that Janus was in the room across from his. It took his brain another few minutes to remember Logan Centauri was in the room next to his.

[continue on AO3] | [read from the beginning]

[jackalopes-pen]

I'll Be Careful

Summary: It's tradition before your wedding to give your heart to your lover. Logan is anxious that a broken heart like his won't be enough, but his fiancé is rather insistent on the opposite.

Tags: Patton, Logan, Logicality, MLM, Fluffy AF, mild cursing

A/N: I'm testing the waters on an AU I want to use on a South Park fic, so we're trying it first with a fandom I know how to write better. please, PLEASE tell me if this reads well or if it doesn't. Comments or reblogs help me so much.

Enjoy reading!

Logan was admittedly a little paranoid about the entire exchange, even if is tradition. The whole idea of putting that much trust into someone even if you love them was terrifying.

Part of the fear came from that their hearts were only glass. Not a strong metal, nor even stronger glass like a Rupert's drop. No, fragile and breakable glass that all too commonly got cracks and breaks. Logan's heart worse for wear as far as hearts go though still in one piece. Now he was walking to the park, where he had his first kiss with Patton to give him his heart.

Logan went straight to the old willow, where it happened. He could still perfectly recall it. They were under it's branches, stargazing on a clear night. Logan had just pointed out the planet Venus when Patton leaned in, and Logan didn't stop him. Patton swore he felt cracks in heart mend after that night . After that kiss.

"Hey Logie! Sorry I'm a little late the muffins took a bit longer then I planned." Patton said, walking over to him. He was wearing a light-blue jumper with an embroidered heart that Logan was sure was his favourite. He had a picnic basket hanging from his lower arm, the aforementioned muffins were just visible behind the wicker.

"Good evening, Patton. Your tardiness is not of significant concern, as it is only by 3 minutes." Logan reassured his fiancé, taking the basket from him to help set up the picnic. "Thank you, though for making muffins."

"Of course! Thought we could use something to munch on. I brought Crofter's too." Patton smiled, warm and full up at Logan. It must have been roughly 1600 degrees Celsius as he felt a sensation of muscle relaxation, originating from the cardiovascular muscle. "You okay, Logan? Your face is all pink."

Logan attempted to pull himself together, straightening his tie unnecessarily and clearing his throat. "I am in good health, Patton. I was merely feeling a.. pleasant sensation in relation to you."

"Awww... you big softie." Patton nudged Logan as he finished setting out their picnic of muffins, jam, and toast. "If I didn't know any better I'd say you're head over heels for me... but you're not wearing any heels!"

Logan let a small laugh slip through his lips, before sitting down beside his love. "Yes yes, very clever Patton."

They sat in a comfortable silence for sometime. Simply enjoying the food, the jam and one another. Logan planned the timing so that they could watch the sunset while they ate. It was a fascinating process how as the angle of light entirety changed, different hues ran through the sky, creating oranges, yellows, and pinks unmatched by paint or dye. This event of natural beauty only lead to another when stars and planets showed face, illuminating the sky but that wouldn't be for a while longer.

"Well, Logie... I don't really know how to start these kind of talks. But well... can I show you my heart?" Patton asked, nervously rubbing the back of his neck.

"Oh, um... yes. And I will then show you mine?" Logan asked tentatively.

"Yeah," Patton said, taking in a deep breath he held out his hands. A pastel blue light formed from a shapeless bright into the shape of a glass heart, tinted a slight blue. It had cracks, certainly. Some crept towards the center, others staying to the outer sides. Patton looked at it with some degree of melancholy, like giving away an old toy or photo. "What... do you think of it?"

"Patton.." Logan was at a loss but still attempted a response. He knew Patton long enough to see he was insecure about it's damage. "It's as beautiful as you. I wouldn't care if it was only dust and fragments, because it's holder is whole."

"Logan.." Patton's cheeks glowed a pink hue to rival the heavens with a smile ear to ear. In his hands, the heart's cracks seemed to retreat. "For a guy who says 'emotions are distraction' you're pretty good at happiness."

"That's... very kind of you." Logan gave his own shy smile. He took a breath held out his own hands, a dark blue formless light emerged then he felt the weight of his own heart. It looked as though it would shatter at a small gust, cracks connecting across it's hollow interior. "I hope... it's enough."

Before Logan could react, Patton had taken one of Logan's hands in his own. "You're already more then enough."

The two stared at each with a love like the day they first met. It was pure, and unfiltered. The hearts were exchanged, given to the person who would keep it safe. Their eyes shifted from heart to heart, a silent promise.

"I'll be careful, I'll never let it get broken."