#either Logan somehow keeps his cool and manages to keep Remus in check

[max-is-tired]

Lexi

Lexi you're galaxy braining over here holy shit

“Okay, so we need a dragon scale,” Roman shrugged, as if it were that simple - though, knowing him, getting fantastical trophies like unicorn horns or (god forbid) dragon scales might be routine at this point. “We just have to get a dragon here.” 

“You can’t just think one up? Isn’t that what you do here?”

“Normally, yes- but you saw what happened back in the forest. I’m fairly certain something’s wrong with the core of the Imagination right now.” He gestured widely to the open field around them. “I’ve never created this landscape before, never even seen it, so it must be from some corner of Thomas’ mind that the core could still access. I can’t put anything in that isn’t already here; we’ll just have to attract a dragon ourselves.”

Logan pinched the bridge of his nose and gave a deep sigh. (The toll the Imagination had on his poor logical brain would be obvious even if Virgil wasn’t created for vigilance.) “So what attracts dragons?” 

“Gold,” Remus offered excitedly, “and caves. And dead bodies.”

“And princesses,” Roman added, making a face at Remus, which Remus just stuck his tongue out at. 

Deceit and Logan shared a flat look. “We don’t exactly have any of those at our dispense. Unless one of you has a princess in your back pocket, of course.”

“Well…” Patton said from Virgil’s side, and all eyes turned to him - he’d been remarkably quiet for the majority of the discussion, and now, his face was pinched as he clearly weighed his options of what to say. At last, he gave Roman an apologetic look and said, slowly, “Maybe a prince will do?” 

[fruitcoops]

Hi, I love your blog so much! I recently got ankle lateral ligament reconstruction done, and as an athlete, it sucks so bad. I watched my basketball team play yesterday, and it felt really horrible to watch them lose by one point in overtime when I know I would have made a difference if I were on the court... I know you have lots of asks and prompts, but if you have the time and want to, could you possibly hurt me more than I’m already hurting with some angsty ankle injury stuff😩 like maybe Cap watching the Lions lose without him.

Thank you for all the awesome fics you write! Your blog is amazing!

Anon, this ask really struck a chord with me and I wanted to do it justice as best I could--going through a sports injury like that is the worst feeling in the world, and watching your teammates play without you just adds salt to the wound. Sending all the love and healing vibes your way, okay? Please keep me updated on how you're feeling if you feel comfortable <3

Combined with an ask for pre-Coops and Sirius' photo of Remus! SW credit goes to @lumosinlove

TW for canonical injury and mentioned scars (Remus)

Sirius felt a nudge at his arm and his irritation flared, but he did not take his eyes off the game. “Fucking hell,” he muttered as James missed yet another blatant pass. There’s three.

The next nudge was more insistent.

“What?” he snapped, sparing half a glance to his left and feeling his stomach swoop.

Remus raised his eyebrows and held the mouthguard out further. “Either put this in or unclench your jaw.”

You’re not my mother, Sirius almost snarked back, just to be even more of an asshole. He was cold from being at the rink without his gear, severely pissed off by the general bullshit happening on the ice, and the itch in the boot locked around his stupid fucked-up ankle was slowly driving him mad.

Remus offered the mouthguard again, and Sirius’ temper cooled by a few degrees at the soft encouragement on his face. Pretty, his brain supplied. He swallowed hard around his sudden dry mouth and shoved the plastic between his teeth, beating back the unruly emotions with a mental baseball bat. Nope. Not tonight. Focus on being angry.

Logan got distracted, and Finn paid the price as an enforcer slammed him against the boards; he bounced back immediately, but Sirius ground the mouthguard so hard it squeaked. “Tabarnak—”

“Come with me for a sec,” Remus said, raising his voice just enough to be heard over the angry shouts of Lions fans.

Sirius shook his head. What he wouldn’t give to be in the heart of the fight, letting off some of the steam that had been building with no outlet for weeks. “Game’s not over.”

Remus pressed his lips together, but said nothing; Sirius’ throat constricted as he looked at the scoreboard. There may have been three full minutes left on the clock, but the Lions had already lost—unless they pulled a miracle out of their asses, this game would be a stain on their record. Or if they just let me play.

Sirius sighed through his nose. The urge had been growing stronger the longer he stayed cooped up and restless, banging at the walls of his brain and bringing headache after headache.

“Cap.” The hand on the back of his bicep was surprisingly gentle and he closed his eyes as Remus gave him a light tug. “Come on. We can at least be productive instead of sitting here and stewing.”

He smells nice. How does he always smell so nice? Sirius stood and followed Remus down the tunnel, not even bothering to force smiles for the people pounding on the glass partitions. Don’t focus on the game.

Focus on his shoulders, something close to his heart suggested. You like his shoulders.

He scrunched his nose up at the thought—if he dwelled on the smooth, strong curve of Remus’ upper back for any longer, he would start remembering the one time he saw them bare, covered in sweat with scars that shone like moonlight and—

“Are you okay?” Remus asked, snapping him back to reality. Sirius jumped and concern flickered over the golden planes of his face. “You’re twitchy tonight.”

“Just…” He made a vague, aborted motion toward the ice before continuing toward the PT room, though he did not miss the worried look Remus shot him. Fantastic, now I look like a dick and an idiot.

“What’s going on, Sirius?” The door clicked closed behind them and Remus leaned against it with his arms crossed loosely as Sirius limped over to the table and sat down, pulling the mouthguard out. He stared at the floor and the hunk of plastic—don’t think about how nice his voice sounds around your name. Don’t.

He shook his head; through the door, the sounds of the game were faint. “They’re better than this.”

“Yep.”

“They’re all going to be angry tomorrow, which makes them sloppy.”

“Probably.”

“Coach will be upset.”

“No question.”

“It’s the Badgers.”

Remus made a face. “I know, right?”

“They’re a good team, but—” He tightened his jaw again and looked away.

“But we’re better,” Remus finished for him.

“Yeah.” Silence fell between them for a few moments, though it wasn’t uncomfortable. Being quiet around Remus was never uncomfortable, and Sirius was pathetically grateful for every scrap of it he could get. “I—the game would be different if I was out there.”

“Would it?”

“It would.” He had been going over every mistake for two and a half hours, placing himself in like a chess piece to stop the missed passes, fumbled pucks, and thoughtless plays. “They need me with them.”

The paper crinkled as Remus sat down next to him, and every one of Sirius’ senses went on high alert. “They need to you get better,” he said simply, those caramel-apple eyes making Sirius’ knees go weak. “Have you been doing your exercises?”

“Of course,” he scoffed.

“Good.” There was no defensiveness or indignation in Remus’ voice—guilt snapped, a firecracker behind his teeth.

“Sorry.”

Remus smiled wryly. “When you’re around injured hockey players all day long, you get used to a little bit of bitchiness.”

“I’m not bitchy!” Sirius spluttered. The poorly-concealed amusement on Remus’ face made mortification heat his cheeks. “I’m not!”

“Uh-huh.” The note of smug disbelief should not have been as attractive as it was. “Alright, lay down.”

Sirius swore he heard a few crackling noises as his brain short-circuited. “Quoi?”

“I’m not kneeling on freezing linoleum to check out your ankle, Cinderella,” Remus snorted. “Now get a wiggle on.”

“You have the strangest sayings,” he said as he laid back and stretched his leg out, bewildered and yet somehow relieved.

“And you—” Remus pulled the top buckle free. “—have no appreciation for the great American north.”

“I can take it off,” Sirius mumbled, feeling redness rise once again.

He cocked an eyebrow. “The boot? I might not be a muscle-bound athlete, but I’m pretty sure I can manage a couple strips of Velcro.”

“No, it’s—doesn’t touching people’s feet freak you out? Like, the sweat and everything?”

“If it did, I’d have to find another profession, because I’m damp all the time from you fuckers and you all seem to have a habit of breaking things below the knee. Bend.”

Sirius complied, drawing his knee toward his chest. His bare foot looked weird in the bright lights, pale and still swollen, but Remus was as golden as ever. You can watch from afar, he conceded when the cute little furrow appeared on Remus’ forehead while he felt around the bone. Just for a little while. “Your hands are warm,” he said before he could stop himself.

Remus glanced up, and his small smile caused a flood of butterflies in Sirius’ stomach. “Thanks. They’re usually pretty cold, so I’m glad I’m not accidentally giving you foot hypothermia.”

“Is that real?”

“No,” Remus laughed. Sirius wished he could keep that sound forever. “How’s that feel?”

“Uh, fine.” He blinked a couple times to come back to himself as Remus put light pressure on the sole of his foot. “Still fine.”

“You’re a lot more flexible than before. Things are healing well.”

A loud buzzer went off outside—Sirius closed his eyes as disappointment and frustration fired up once more. The crowd wasn’t cheering. The windows weren’t shaking. He didn’t even want to look at the TV to check the score. I should be out there, he thought for the umpteenth time. I’m letting them down.

“I’m sorry,” Remus said quietly as he worked through a few more exercises.

“Not your fault.”

“It’s not yours, either.”

Sirius wanted to believe him. “I’m the captain.”

“And you’re being responsible by doing this with me so you can heal faster.” People rushed past the door outside, but the PT room remained peaceful. Sirius stared at the plain ceiling and wished for a miracle. “They miss you.”

“Y’know, that’s not exactly making me feel better.”

“Sorry.” They lapsed back into silence. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“No.”

“Cool.”

Sirius chewed the inside of his lip for a solid two minutes, following Remus’ simple instructions without looking at him. He should have been out there with them, ankle be damned. It was basically healed anyway; they were just tying up loose ends, and maybe Remus needed to be a little less careful. “Is this really necessary?”

“I’m gonna give you five seconds to ask a different question.”

“I’m just saying, it feels fine and—”

“Time’s up.” Remus let go of his foot and Sirius only spared a moment to mourn the loss of his comforting touch before he caught the stormy, mulish stubbornness that took the place of Remus’ concentration. “Sit.”

“I am.”

He narrowed his eyes, and Sirius dragged himself upright with a huff. Arguing with Remus Lupin was about as useful as arguing with a brick wall, and that was coming from someone who won the ‘Most Stubborn’ superlative at their last end-of-year party. “First of all, ankles are annoying and the soft tissue will still be damaged even if the bone is healed. Second, it’s my job to fix you up so your boys stop whining to me about healing you faster. And third, I’m not giving up on you.”

Sirius paused for a long moment. “What?”

“I’m not giving up,” Remus repeated. His jaw set and he made direct eye contact. “I would love nothing more than to kick Snape in the kneecaps and let you go out there as soon as you can stand on your own, but that’s not what I’m here for. I’m here to make sure you’re ready to kick ass and take names no matter what that little shit was trying to do. So don’t you dare sit there and try to chicken out at the finish line, because I know you want this even more than I do.”

In his chest, Sirius heart was hammering like he had just run five miles. I’m not giving up on you. Sirius had never wanted to kiss him more. “Thank you.”

Remus softened with a slow breath. “We’re in this together, Sirius. You and me.”

“I know.”

“Then let’s get to work. Next time you play the Badgers, make ‘em regret this game.”

--------------------------------

Sirius walked back toward the locker room feeling rather nauseous. The whole team leaked their bad moods into the air—Arthur had barely looked at them before sending them home with a quiet “we’ll talk more tomorrow”, the equivalent of an arrow through Sirius’ heart. I need a pick-me-up, he thought as the rest of the guys trooped out in a melancholy raincloud. He fist-bumped each of them, per tradition, but their responses were weak at best.

Ice cream sounded good. Maybe a milkshake. Oh, who was he kidding, he needed a solid hug and something other than ice to look at. Not for the first time, he contemplated getting a dog, just so the house wouldn’t be empty and dark when he returned.

Laughter rang out ahead and Sirius inhaled sharply, letting the sound roll over him. “I’m not kidding!” Moody chuckled.

“Bullshit,” Remus countered, still snickering. “There is no way—”

“I’ve been around here longer than you’ve been alive, kid.”

“Yes, yes, I know,” Remus groaned, though Sirius could hear the smile in his voice even from around the corner. “You only bring it up every goddamn day.”

“Brat.”

Sirius entered the room just in time to see Remus playfully knock the side of his foot against Moody’s; both were grinning. “Isn’t it past your bedtime, old man?”

Moody nodded to him. “Night, twelve.”

“A demain,” Sirius called, offering a slight smile as his eyes lingered on Remus. He was leaning back against the wall with stick tape in his hands—his hands, which never failed to make Sirius throw caution to the wind—and raised it in farewell. “See you, Loops. Thanks again.”

“No problem, Cap.”

He grabbed his duffel off the floor and slid his keys, wallet, and phone into his pockets as Moody and Remus resumed their conversation. He wondered how long they usually stuck around, and if they would oppose him staying—he wouldn’t interrupt, but being around people who weren’t going through the five stages of grief already felt nice.

An idea struck as Remus’ laugh raised goosebumps on his arms once again. With a careful glance over his shoulder, he slipped his phone out and snapped a picture before hurrying off toward his car. His breaths were shallow; that was such a creepy move, and surely one of them noticed—

No voices chased him. Nobody gave him strange looks. He waited until he was safely in the front seat of the car before unlocking his phone, and all the air in his lungs left in a rush.

The photo was perfect. It caught the lopsided tilt to Remus’ mouth, his slender-but-strong fingers, his long legs, the scrunch of his nose mid-laugh. Everything Sirius never let himself look at for long. He didn’t have much space left among the collection of paper memories on his dresser, but maybe if he put it in the back where nobody would see it unless they knew where to look…

He turned the car on. Later. He would print it out and deal with the taut rubber-band-ball of feelings later. Until then, he could settle for the imprint of Remus’ warmth taking away the pain in his ankle and the determination on his face as he promised to bring Sirius back from the personal hell he was living in. You and me, he had said, and Sirius wanted nothing more than to believe it.

[liemonyellow]

no salvation for me now

read on ao3

Summary:  Janus isn't having a great day. The others help.

Ships: Platonic DRLAMP

Warnings: Mild swearing

Janus pulled the soft, plush blanket over his head, curling up into a tight ball in the middle of the pile of comforters and stuffed animals he called a bed.

Better. He supposed he could just turn off the AC, but it was too hot even for him, and he preferred covering up in the cold to having to cool himself down when the warmth became too unbearable. It wasn’t like he could crawl out of his own skin, as Remus often suggested.

A stray fabric tentacle from one of his many octopus plushies - all gifts from Remus, and all of which he adored, of course - was digging into his side, its lumpiness an unwelcome sensation keeping him awake when all he wanted was to fall asleep and not wake up for at least a week. The very thought made him want to punch his pillows again; he’d slept quite well the previous few days, so why was he still so fucking tired!?

He knew why.

He hated the reason.

Janus turned over on his other side, yanking the offending plush limb from underneath him and shoving it aside. Reaching for his phone, he checked the time. It was two in the afternoon and he had far too many notifications. Thank the lord for silent mode.

Peeking out from under his blanket, Janus saw strips of yellowish light streaming in through the gaps in his curtains. Normally, he’d be fine napping in broad daylight but right now he wanted darkness. He groaned, and his stomach growled with him.

His attempted nap was officially a lost cause. Dragging himself out of bed, Janus thrust his feet into his slippers and stood, stretching out his arms. He didn’t bother changing into his usual outfit and left his room for the first time that day, ignoring the quaint little color-coded post-it notes the others had left on his door wishing him a nice day or hoping he’d feel better soon or whatever. He was not in the mood for sympathy or socialization right now, even indirectly.

It was even cooler out in the main house, with the AC going full blast to combat the humid heat. The others didn’t have weird issues with temperature like Janus did, and he didn’t begrudge them for it. He could always put on more layers, after all, and the living room had been amassing a rather impressive array of blankets, throws, afghans, and other such sundries for a while now. The twins claimed it was for impromptu blanket fort construction and their subsequent blanket fort pillow wars, but Janus had yet to see any such happenings. It would only be a matter of time, knowing them, but so far Janus was the only one to make any use of the collection at all, and solely for their intended function as warming implements.

As expected, everyone else was in the living room, and they all looked up when he entered. He greeted them with a curt nod before heading straight for the kitchen. No one stopped him, or tried to talk to him. Janus wasn’t sure how he felt about that. He decided he preferred it over the alternative, for now.

Nothing looked appetizing, despite how hungry he was. But he had to eat, so he grabbed a couple slices of sandwich bread and toasted them. He slathered on the butter because fuck it, he wanted to, and scarfed them both down in what had to be less than a second. There. Fed.

Janus grabbed a clean cup from the clean cup cupboard and filled it halfway with water, then drained it in one go. Hydrated. What now?

He stood in the middle of the kitchen, not knowing what to do, for who knew how long. It wasn’t until he heard a small cough that he vacantly turned his head to see Patton giving him a nervous smile.

“Hey, Jan. Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft. Patton stood just the slightest bit slouched over, either from trying to peek at Janus’ expression or to seem unthreatening. It didn’t really matter which.

Janus shrugged, his eyes returning to stare at the empty countertop.

“Can I touch you? Do you want a hug or something?”

Janus shrugged again, but didn’t jerk away from Patton’s light fingertips on his shoulder like he would have if he were truly averse. Nor did he lean into the touch, as he would have if he were having difficulty asking for it. He honestly just didn’t care.

“Is this okay?”

Janus didn’t feel like answering, but managed a nod. Patton’s hand came to rest fully on his shoulder.

“Why don’t we move into the living room? We can keep quiet if it helps.”

Janus dispassionately followed the guidance of Patton’s hand on his shoulder, staring at the floor as he dragged his feet across it and into the living room. He didn’t really see where he was going, trusting Patton to navigate him safely onto the sofa.

There was murmuring and soft chatter around him as Janus realized Patton had deposited him in the middle of the big couch, and that the others were giving him space to breathe. They were careful not to touch him too much or too firmly, moving slowly and deliberately so they wouldn’t startle him.

Virgil put a hand on his knee, squeezing it gently. Janus turned to look at him, getting a small, encouraging smile in exchange. Janus went back to staring at his knees.

Something soft was draped over his shoulders. Janus sat there, unmoving, as someone tugged it more tightly around him before coming around to sit down on his other side. Logan. He held another, folded-up blanket. He set it aside, in case Janus wanted it later, and held Janus’ hand.

Roman wrapped his arms around Janus’ shoulders from behind him, muttering something softly that Janus didn’t catch. He pressed a kiss into Janus’ hair, then slowly moved away to sit beside Logan, wrapping an arm around him to rest a warm hand on Janus’ shoulder.

It didn’t take long for Remus to get there, though if it did, Janus hardly noticed any time passing. He and Patton had brought them all refills. Janus hadn’t even noticed the untouched, now-tepid mug of hot cocoa set before him on the coffee table until just now, when Remus set another one down for him. Remus spun around to scoop Janus up - very gently, for Remus - and sat down in Janus’ spot, setting Janus down on his lap and cradling him.

After they saw that Janus wasn’t uncomfortable with the new situation, Roman started grumbling about the interruption, only settling down once he re-established contact with Janus. Patton had also somehow squeezed into the narrow space between Virgil and Remus, cuddling Remus’ side, a hand placed comfortingly in the crook of Janus’ elbow. Janus’ legs ended up laid across Patton and Virgil’s laps, and which Virgil immediately claimed with a repeated, soothing caress, though whether for Janus’ sake or because he liked the way the silky fabric felt was up for debate. Virgil would deny both either way, knowing Janus knew the truth.

Surrounded by the people who loved him most, Janus’ eyes drifted closed and he fell asleep, safe at last.

[bewaretheidesofmarchyall]

Camping Trip Headcanons

Ever wondered what the sides would be like while camping?

One of the plot points on this was inspired by a post by @aidensm8

So. Camping trip (I’m just going to assume this is a human AU). Roceit and Logicality just kind of became a thing.

-For starters, they get extremely lost.

-They were planning on camping in an actual designated camping spot. However, it all went downhill when the map was lost.

-There had been bickering throughout the entire car ride as to who got to hold the map. Eventually, a rotating schedule was decided on.

-By the time they’d been walking in the wrong direction for three hours, everyone had a different opinion on who actually lost the map.

-Roman blamed Janus, Janus blamed Virgil, Virgil blamed Logan, Logan blamed Remus, and Remus blamed Patton (who had never once touched the map. Remus knew this, and was only accusing him for the sake of chaos).

-After being lost in the woods for a while, they decide to pitch the tent. There were quite a few attempts, but in the end the monstrosity they assembled looked vaguely like a tent.

-A few things about the cast of characters

-Roman: Still the dramatic dude we know and love. Everyone’s around sixteen or so in this AU, and he’s got all of the Getting Out Of This Small Town dreams. One day, he’ll be famous, just try to stop him.

Currently having a bit of a rivals-to-lovers thing with Janus.

-Janus: This dorky snek. Wants similar things to Roman, but with a vein of cynicism that is leading him far from theater and towards law.

He and Roman have been competing for parts in various school plays since freshmen year. 

-Logan: Logan knows so very much about space and so very little about dealing with pining after a friend. But he’s planned this camping trip to perfection and he’s going to have a “totally unplanned” chat with Patton under the stars.

-Patton: Patton is oblivious as to why Logan is so excited about camping and the planning process, since he normally hates the outdoors.

Anyway, he’s really excited to go on a trip with all of his friends and eat marshmallows! 

One thing to note about Patton is that he has a small mark on his forearm the approximate size of a bug bite. This will be important later.

-Remus: Remus has a plan to make this camping trip...memorable. By which he means ✨Disturbing for all parties✨! Yes, he’s got a prank planned, which is why his backpack contains a live screech owl.

-Virgil: Virgil has a reputation at being the best at telling horror stories. Some kids can whistle with a blade of grass, some kids can curl their tongues, but Virgil’s talent is scaring people out of their minds. And he’s proud of it!

-Okay, back to your regularly scheduled programming

-Even though they’re lost, everything’s fine! They were able to build a fire (Remus brought a blowtorch), and when sunset came everyone was set up.

-Patton has found a variety of cool rocks, which he shows off to everyone.

-Logan looks up exactly what kind of rocks they are in his guide.

He brought a guide for this.

-Roman has been singing a veritable jukebox of musical numbers while setting everything up.

-Janus is trying to outsing him. 

-Virgil is trying get either Remus or Logan to bet with him as to when exactly they’ll become a couple.

-Remus tends to his screech owl.

-Soon, it’s dark, and marshmallows are consumed. Remus declines to stick his over the fire, instead lighting it with the blowtorch and placing the entire thing into his mouth, stick and all. 

-Then, it’s that much awaited time. Horror story time.

-Janus tells the first story. Very gothic horror Edgar Allen Poe stuff, better in terms of world building than actual scare factor.

-Roman goes next. His story isn’t that impressive (witchcraft and such), but his acting more than makes up for it.

-Remus tells a tale of the zombie apocalypse. There is cannibalism. However, he seems a little distracted, almost like he’s worried that a live animal in his bag will make a noise at the wrong time.

-Logan goes next. He’s not the best at horror stories, given his tendency to a) take things too literally and b) give all of his characters basic common sense.

So he tells some non-fiction instead.

He lists unsolved cases, tales of UFO’s, mysterious disappearances with no explanation. He declines to mention the likely scientific reasons for these events.

It works.

-And then, it’s Virgil’s turn. 

Damn.

He’s very good at it.

He somehow managed to make “tHeRe’S a MuRdErEr iN tHeSe WoOdS” actually nerve-wracking again.

Janus and Roman end up holding onto each other in fear by the end of the story. There’s indeed awkward springing apart and throat clearing, thank you for asking.

-They’re all ready to go back to the tent when Patton reminds them he hasn’t told a story yet.

-They sit down, somewhat relieved that they’ll have a less scary tale to finish the night off. After all, it’s Patton.

-Pat takes the flashlight, fiddles with the switch, and smiles innocently. He then proceeds to tell his friends exactly why he’s scared of spiders.

-When the flashlight dies at the end, there are screams, and not just from Roman. Everyone is terrified. Patton’s just eating the extra marshmallows like nothing is wrong as his friends have an existential crisis.

-Later that night...

-Virgil is questioning everything now that he is no longer the best at telling horror stories. So, when he sees Remus sneak off, he doesn’t stop him.

-Instead, he offers to join him in whatever spooky mischief he’s conducting. 

-Remus reveals Señor Scoodly-Scream, the screech owl. He plans to release the live bird into the tent at 3am in the morning and just kind of see what happens.

-Virgil agrees that this plan is a good one, but thinks that there a few things they can do to improve it.

-One of the factors of a good scare, he explains in an almost scientific voice, is that the participants are already on edge. If a live owl is released, sure, they’ll be shocked. But if they already have a feeling something is going on, and the imagination is allowed to linger, and THEN something is released?

Pandemonium.

-See! He still knows how to spook people!

-He suggests that they get long, spindly sticks that looks like brittle fingers to scrape against the walls of the tent. And the two of them head off together into the woods, hushing each other’s laughter and Señor Scoodly-Scream’s squawking. 

-As subtle as they tried to be, Logan had been keeping an ear open for when Remus would try to do something. So, after a few minutes, he follows them. 

-On his way out the door, Patton wakes up and joins him. The two of them try to follow Remus and Virgil.

-They go in the exact opposite direction as the devious pranksters, leaving Janus and Roman alone.

-Logan is jumpy for many reasons. He’s alone with his crush, it’s the middle of the night, he’s alone with his crush, many spooky stories were told, he’s alone with his crush-Our guy has a lot going on. Is it any wonder that he isn’t paying much attention to where exactly he and Patton are going?

-Roman is the fifth to wake up, only to realize that everyone except for Janus is just GONE.

-THEY’VE CLEARLY ALL BEEN MURDERED BY SPIDERS, OR THE MURDERER IN THE WOODS, OR ABDUCTED BY ALIENS

-Janus is the last person to wake up. It hard to not wake up when someone is screaming two feet from your ear.

-But upon finding that everyone else is gone, he’s almost tempted to join in the shrieks. One person leaving is one thing, but four people?? No, they’re clearly going to die in the middle of the woods.

-The two of them freak out. Roman suggests going to search for the others, and Janus point out that every horror movie suggests not! Doing! That!

-But Roman is adamant, and Janus isn’t going to be alone right now, so the pair of them sneak into the woods.

-Meanwhile, Remus and Virgil return with sticks. They scrape the walls of the tent. No reaction. They scrape louder. No reaction. They rattle the tent itself. Nope.

-They even release Scoodly-Scream into the tent! NOTHING.

-When they check, they realize that no one’s there (except the owl). PANIC ENSUES.

-Remus and Virgil come to the conclusions that everyone in the tent was eaten by spiders and they were lucky that they got out when they could. Remus decides that they should try to run back to town and out of the woods ASAP. 

-Which is what they try to do! However, they forgot one crucial detail: They’d been lost at the beginning of this camping trip.

-So, everyone’s kind of going in circles. Logan and Patton are having a stroll in the night air while everyone else runs like electrified hamsters.

-Roman and Janus have been holding onto each other for a solid fifteen minutes before even noticing. They both pretend that they didn’t notice, reasoning that it’s due to the cold, or the alien abductions.

-Suddenly, they hear a stick break. They freeze, seeing an outline of something of around human size in the distance. It moves again, and Roman and Janus rush at it, yelling and tackling the figure to the ground.

-It’s Remus. They don’t have time to apologize before Virgil comes out of nowhere and tries to fight them off with a stick.

-Once faces are spotted and no-one’s attacking anyone anymore, the four of them decide to head back to the tent.

-Then, they remember Logan and Patton.

-Logan and Patton are lost. You think everyone else in this fic is lost? These two are so lost you wouldn’t believe it.

-Eventually, their flashlight dies. The two of them are lost in the woods, in the middle of the night, with no flashlight.

-But without the flashlight, it’s easier to see the stars.

-Logan and Patton stop to rest under a tree. Logan points out the constellations. Patton points out that he has feelings for Logan. Logan.exe short circuits.

-The sweet moment is broken when they hear screaming. The two exchange a quick glance and run in the screaming’s direction.

-Meanwhile, Janus covers his ears as Virgil and Remus have a spontaneous screaming contest. The mood is light-hearted until they discover a dead flashlight on the ground under a tree.

-This freaks out the Everyone, and they scatter in fear accordingly.

-Roman trips over a rock and rolls down a hill as the others escape. The bulb of his flashlight breaks, and he is alone in the dark. He hates it, and panics, and is convinced that whatever evil force is in this woods is going to kill him.

-Janus notices that Roman isn’t with the group any more. All of his instincts tell him to run and save himself, and that’s what he does! For five seconds.

-Then, he runs back toward Roman (and potentially axe-murder). The two of them find each other at the bottom of the hill, and a thought enters both of their minds.

Oh.

OH.

Oh no.

-It’s pitch black now. Every flashlight has been taken out of commission. 

-All three groups run smack into each other at the top of the hill. After some more shrieking and stick-fighting, it’s established who everyone is. A collective sigh of relief is breathed that no one is dead.

-Slowly, carefully, they make their way back to the tent. It takes a while, but for once someone pays attention to where they’re going, and they get there eventually. 

-Everyone’s tired, and ready to catch what little sleep they can during this hell-night. Logan unzips the tent.

-And Señor Scoodly-Scream flies into his face.

So, there it is! Camping! Romance! An owl full of rage!

I hope you enjoyed this mini-fic :)

[98prilla]

Abductions, Past and Present

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AO3

...

“Virg? You ok?” Patton asks softly, the black still flickering at his edges, and he sighs, shoving his hand through his hair.

 “yeah. It just… it comes and goes so fast with them. One moment they’re fine, and the next they’re plummeting. I can’t brace myself for it.” Virgil replies, taking a deep breath in, and out, his form becoming more solid with each one.

 Wraiths fed off negativity. Negative feelings, emotions, words, it gave them power. They could twist the dark to their will, bend shadows into monsters, could influence people’s thoughts and actions, and turn into shadowy, ghost like beings, hence the name ‘wraith’.  

 Virgil didn’t like feeding off of people’s misery, he didn’t thrive on it like others of his kind, didn’t relish all the myths and legends borne from his race. He rarely used his abilities, only if he or one of the others were in danger, though he tended to turn intangible when stressed or worried, going from his solid, humanoid form to a shadowy mass of smoke.

 “They’ve been through so much. It’s only natural.” Janus replies softly, staring up at the ceiling. “They’re starting to trust us, though.”

 “They’re starting to trust you and Patton. Remus doesn’t like me as far as he can throw me, and he flat out despises Logan.”

 “No he doesn’t.” Janus interrupts, sitting up properly in the chair, eyes serious. “He doesn’t hate Logan, or you, for that matter. He’s afraid of you.” Virgil frowns, looking away.

 “And that’s better?”

 “Yes.” Both Janus and Patton say at the same time.

“it is. Because you can show them, every day, you can show them, that there’s no reason to fear you, and slowly they’ll start to trust.” Patton answers firmly.

 “hate is harder to erase. It stains everything, it leaves no room for accidents or mistakes. Everything you do is malicious. Fear… can be unlearned so much easier. It allows for errors, it allows for apologies, it allows for growth.” Janus finishes, sighing and stretching as he stands, wincing slightly at the ache in his shoulder. It’s an old wound, long healed, but it still likes to act up every once in a while, usually when he’s stressed or worried, both of which he is now.

 He sees too much of himself in the brothers, that’s his problem. He was young, when he was taken, had to be, else he would have known how to fight back properly, else his fangs would have been fully developed and with a single scratch he could have killed them all, but he was old enough to still have memories of his nest mates.

 To remember warmth and comfort and a soft, lulling voice singing haunting melodies through the night. To remember the laughter of his siblings, of his cousins, of all the other children of the den, to know there had been squabbles and disagreements and play fighting and always, at the end of the night, they all curled together in a pile, sprawled across and under and over each other. They were so attuned to physical touch, needed it, needed the warmth it provided, both physical and mental, losing that had been its own kind of torture.  

 At least they have each other. He can’t even remember their names, let alone faces. All he has of his mother is that distant, soft crooning. All he has of his family is the faint feel of warmth. He wonders often if it would be better if he had nothing at all. He swallows hard, realizing Patton had asked him a question, and Virgil was looking at him with concern. He swallows past the lump in his throat, shoving back the emotions that come with these thoughts, because if he lets himself think a moment longer, they will overtake the tall, sturdy wall he has built in his mind to protect himself from the ache of almost memories.

 “Janus… please.” Patton says, and he knows what he’s asking without saying it. Patton is asking him to stay, asking him not to run, asking him to talk about it, asking him for his full story, something he’s never really given, the curt summary of his history to Remus is all he’s ever told the others, but if he gives in to Patton, he won’t be able to hold it back. He won’t be able to pretend it wasn’t as bad as it was. He won’t be able to stop.

 “I can’t… pat, I trust you with my life, but I… I can’t go back there. I can’t do it all again. That’s… that’s what saying it all would be, it would be doing all of it all over again, and I can’t…” He inhales shakily, nearly jumping out of his skin when Virgil takes his hand, turning him so they’re face to face.

 “breath, Jan. In and out.” Virgil coaches softly, catching him at the edge of the abyss and slowly walking him back until the past fades away and he’s back in the present.

 “I’m going to bed now.” He says, a bit flat, a bit distant, and without a second glance, he turns and walks away, closing and locking his door behind him, before he collapses on his bed and stares numbly at the ceiling, determined not to feel a thing, until he manages to fall asleep.

…

 He can’t sleep. He doesn’t know why, he’s exhausted, he has been for nearly forever, but for some reason he can’t let it go tonight. That’s why he’s pacing the room, appreciating the soft glow of the ship, appreciating the lack of total darkness.

 The door is open, and he keeps glancing down the hallway, as if expecting something to come attack, some monster to appear, some shadow demon to charge, though really, that’s basically Virgil. But the thought of being trapped, in this enclosed space, of the dark creeping in, is too much to bear.

 He shivers again, because Virgil had apologized, about what he’d done, and meant it, and he understood, why Virgil had plunged him into that nightmare. He was protecting his family, and he understands that all too well, far too well to hold it against someone, but the residual fear still clings to him, adds another nightmare to his already long roster, and maybe he’s not sleeping because then he’ll have to experience all of it again.

 He shakes his head, raking a hand through his hair, growling under his breath, because there’s too much energy, it feels like his legs are sparking with it, and this movement of pacing is barely holding it at bay.

 Or maybe it’s the conversation from earlier, what Roman said, earlier, because despite all his reassurances, he knows Roman still blames himself for their getting taken in the first place. Which is stupid, incredibly stupid, but all his words will never dissuade Roman of that idea.

…

It wasn’t like they could have predicted it. They were camping, with their parents, an activity they did almost every weekend in the summer. Most times, they stayed close to home, just local county campgrounds with some hiking trails and jungle gyms, grilling out and sitting at a campfire telling stories until the moon was high in the sky. Those were the best, tired and sleepy, but still refusing to go to bed as the fire crackled, sending embers dancing through the air, while Dad read to them, Lord of the Rings, or Harry Potter, any fantasy book they could get their hands on.

 Usually once or twice a summer, they packed up for a longer trip, one of the cool state campgrounds up north, with real forests and towering trees and lakes, and an air of mystery that the small wooded parks just didn’t have. They always had sing a longs in the car, Disney and theater music, and twizzlers, road trip twizzlers had somehow become a tradition. Him and Roman bickered and fought on the three, four hour ride, and their parents laughingly broke it up, until they both eventually passed out, waking up when they arrived.

 This had been one of those trips. Deep, actual forest, sleeping in tents, the smell of pine and earth and crisp air all day, it was his favorite thing in the world! It was the end of their second day there, which they’d spent hiking around the lake, trying to imitate bird calls, and he had been howling, trying to attract wolves all day, much to Roman’s dismay.

 It was dark, when Roman shook him awake. They’d gone to bed early, tired out from their activities, so he wasn’t surprised to look at the battery powered clock in their tent to see it was only one am.

 “Rem. Rem, did you see it?” Roman asked, shaking him again, and he lightly shoved Roman off of him, rubbing at his eyes.

 “did I see what, Ro?” He asked tiredly. Roman’s eyes were huge as saucers, and he was practically vibrating with excitement.

 “the fairy.” He whispered conspiratorially, grinning, the gap in his bottom teeth visible where he’d recently lost a tooth. They’d both gotten in trouble for that one, but Roman had said it was wiggling, so of course Remus had volunteered to pull it out!

 “what? Ro, you were just dreaming, go back to sleep.” He replied, rolling his eyes. Roman was ten, his imagination wilder than Remus’s at times, and he sometimes had trouble telling what was real and what wasn’t. He was a proud adult, at thirteen, and didn’t believe in things like fairies anymore, though he always humored Roman. He hated upsetting his little brother more than anything, and he could tell he had now, as Roman’s lip trembled and tears welled in his eyes. He usually wasn’t this emotional, but he guessed the little guy was still a bit sleep deprived and grumpy.

 “There is! I saw its light!” He bit his lip skeptically. The best thing to do was play along.

 “Easy, Ro. I believe you did see something, just, are you sure it was a fairy, and not just someone else’s flashlight or distant fire, or something? You know fairies are very rare.” He added, so Roman wouldn’t be offended. Roman scrunched his eyes, thinking hard for a moment.

 “No. it wasn’t either of those. I know what that looks like, Ree, this was blue!” He sighed, alright, no getting out of this, then.

 “Ok. We can go check it out, quickly, alright? Put on your shoes, and we’ll look around. If we don’t see anything, will you go back to bed?” Roman nodded enthusiastically, already with one shoe half on. He grumbled and threw on a sweater, before quietly unzipping the tent door and stepping out into the night air.

 It was cool, but not unpleasantly so. The ground was already slightly wet from dew, and it was very dark. He was careful to keep his flashlight pointed at the ground, away from the parent’s tent a few feet away, shushing Roman as he came out, zipping the tent closed.

 “ok, Ro. Where did you see it?” He whispered, his voice sounding huge in the relative silence of the night. The trees swayed above in a soft breeze, and he shivered.

 “over there!” Roman whispered back, pointing towards the edge of the site. Carefully, he walked towards it, aware of the crunch of old leaves beneath his feet as he shone his light around the edge of camp. He didn’t see anything. He didn’t hear anything, either, which was odd.

 That’s why it felt so loud and eerie. There were no crickets chirping, no night birds calling, no ambient sound from animals foraging through the underbrush. It was completely, unnaturally silent.

 He swallowed hard, taking a step back, suddenly regretting all of his wolf howling from earlier. What if he really had attracted a large predator? That would explain the lack of noise, and the eerie, prickling feeling of unseen eyes on him. There could be a wolf, waiting to pounce, or a cougar up in a tree, he’d heard stories of them attacking people, they were nearly invisible in the woods, or-

 “There!” He saw a flash of light, bright and deep and blue, come from deeper in the woods, and before he could say a word, Roman was sprinting past him, chasing after the ‘fairy light’.  He cursed, and took off after his brother, unwilling to leave him alone to get lost in the woods and attacked by a bear or whatever lurked around here.

 “Roman! Wait up!” He yelled, panting, speeding up as he heard Roman let out a yell, cut short. “RO!” He screamed again, but something sharp pierced his neck and he staggered, head spinning, vision blurring as he lost balance and fell to the ground. He reached up and weakly pulled something that looked almost like a dart from his neck, shaking with effort as he crawled forwards, just managing to get to Roman before he blacked out completely.

 When they woke up, they had been in the cell. That pitch black, empty, desolate cell. The only good thing was that they were together. But they were terrified and confused and alone, and Remus had to stay strong, he had to hold in his tears, he had to act brave, for Roman.

 Over the years, they’d picked up the ‘Common’ as it was called, the language the different guards and scientists and Him spoke with, learned it on their own, though they’d never learned to read it. It hadn’t taken too long, for them to realize what was happening, that they’d been abducted, like in one of the scary movies they weren’t supposed to watch, but that wasn’t the worst part.

 The worst part was the stupid, aching, hope, that had lingered, strong and fierce for the first few days, the first few weeks, even, that they’d be let go. That’s what happened, in books and movies, the people were taken by aliens, and probed or whatever, and then put back on earth with no memory of what had happened. That hope had died a slow and agonizing death, over the months that turned to years, that turned to a decade of repeated, endless, horrors.

 ...

 He shakes his head again, trying to clear it, trying to force back those memories, because they hurt, anything from before just hurts, and he’s never had time to think of it, before. He was always waiting for the next procedure or trap or experiment, always planning his and Roman’s survival, he’d never been allowed time to grieve or think or remember.

 He tries to take a deep breath, and almost succeeds, swiping at his eyes. He feels wide awake, almost electrified, his every atom buzzing for movement, and he curls his hands into fists just so they stop shaking. He glances at Roman, who is still fast asleep, curled in bed, and sighs. Water, maybe some water will help. He’s been assured by Patton that the ship is open to him, day or night, that he’s free to eat or drink whatever he wants, that everyone shares responsibilities and chores and food on the ship, and he won’t get in trouble for using something. That doesn’t make it any easier, to cross the threshold of his room, his nerves on fire as he tiptoes past every door, holding his breath, jumping at every shadow until he makes into the common area. Again, the openness of it both soothes him and frightens him. There’s so many places to run, if he needs to, but so many places for enemies to come from, and he nearly jumps out of his skin as he hears a noise from the kitchen area, breath halting as he sees glowing silver eyes staring back at him, almost as startled as he is.