#logan conveyed every bit of his feelings through the hand holding

[mischievous-thunder]

A few days later:

He did it!

[goldenlikedayl1ght]

logan howlett x asexual!reader

notes: fluff, mentions of sex, kissing, nuanced take on asexuality.

It took you a long time to say yes to going out with Logan.

And it wasn’t simply a case of you ‘playing hard to get’. You have no desire to be a fling. Sure, you recognize that objectively, he is hot! And you think to yourself, maybe you’d give him a shot if he didn’t just want to sleep with you.

So, for months, he pines. And it’s a rather new experience, he’s used to people just throwing themselves at him after a few flirty conversations, but it takes almost four months for you to even agree to go out with him.

When you do, he makes sure to put in his best effort—You two go out to a really nice dinner, and then you go on this long drive to a cliff side, and you lean against his motorcycle, holding hands as you look to the stars.

His heart thumps as your thumb gently rubs against his knuckles.

So the two of you date—

You kiss, you eat lunch together, you spend long nights with your hands running through his hair, reading to him.

But you don’t sleep with him.

He thinks maybe it’s a religious thing or maybe some weird fetish, like you think waiting will make it even better. But he doesn’t ask you about it, because he remembers how long it took you to go out with him, so he keeps it to himself.

Until one day, about seven months into your relationship.

The snow whirls outside the X-Mansion, the wind rattling your windows, as you curl up in bed, wrapped in his flannel, a couple of blankets and his arms.

“Can I ask you a question, Spitfire?” He wonders.

“Anything.” You answer, meaning it whole heartedly.

The Wolverine feels himself get nervous before he asks,

“Why haven’t we had sex yet?” He asks, and you take a minute. You knew the conversation would happen eventually. Logan isn’t your first boyfriend, so you know that the people you’re with are owed an explanation. And you brace yourself—If he isn’t willing to listen to you on this, you’re ready to walk away.

You sit up so you can be looking at him—It’s rather intimate.

“I’m Asexual.” You answer.

A beat.

“A sexual what?”

You laugh a little, mostly because you think it’s silly, especially considering Logan isn’t straight (you see how he’s looked at Scott).

“No, Asexual—It means I experience little to no sexual attraction,” You answer, and he tilts his head.

He’s committed a lot of time to you already. The explanation sort of scares him, and he’s ready to run away but he stays put, not wanting you to think he can’t handle whatever it is you’ve just thrown at him—But he was born in the early 1800’s. Have a bit of grace for the man.

“Okay, What does that mean, though?” He asks, and you’re grateful he hasn’t broken up with you yet.

“So, I.. I really like you. I mean—I love you, Logan.” You confess, “But sex just.. isn’t something I need, especially not often. I get horny, It’s just.. Sex is different for me. I like making out with you, kissing you, touching you—and there might be times where I do want to have sex with you, probably to show my affection and grow closer to you—Sex isn’t procreation or pure pleasure to me, it’s something that I only like to do every once in a while and I do it as a way to get closer to whoever I love. Does that make sense?”

Logan nods. It does make sense—Sex isn’t your thing. And he knows historically, he’s been passed around by the other x-men like a blunt, but in dating you for a while, since you two haven’t slept together, he’s much more okay with that being more rare.

Sure, you’re both attracted to each other, and like you said, making out is really nice, but..

“Yeah.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Well, I just..” he takes your hands in his, trying to convey what it is he wants to communicate. “We’re more than just dating. At least to me. No one’s ever been in my corner like you, and.. I don’t just look at you in a physical manner, I.. I look over my shoulder for you when I see something stupid or fun, because I want to share everything with you. I know it’s been rocky at times, but..” He clears his throat. You see tears well in his eyes and you just smile, your hand detaching from his to wipe a tear that runs down his face.

“I know.” You say softly, and he smiles.

“I don’t need sex to love you.” He tells you. He kisses you gently and asks, “Don’t feel like that’s ever something I need, okay, spitfire?”

“Okay, Claws.”

//i don't know what else to say about this other than i know i write smut often and graphically but i am in fact asexual, so i wanted to throw my hat in the ring for writing not only a queer reader but a reader who is asexual. you deserve a place in fanfiction too. also, readers description of asexuality is based off my own, so please remember that asexuality isn't a one size fits all thing.

[delimeful]

the end of being alone (2)

donation drive commission for @bumblebeekitten for the next chapter of TEOBA, with the prompt: patton & virgil fluff! hope you enjoy reading it as much as i enjoyed writing it!

chapter 1

warnings: miscommunication, false impression of a very bad situation for like .5 seconds, recklessness, sometimes you just gotta have a good cry

-

The next sunrise, they set out again, this time with considerably less weaponry and considerably more snacks. Roman held point again, since he was the one with the most practical experience in tracking. 

There had been a somewhat tedious argument on whether or not Patton should come, one that Roman had thoroughly lost, since it was Patton’s quick thinking and emotional attunement that kept the previous cycle’s encounter from descending into disaster. 

He had acquiesced in the end under the combined force of Logan’s reasoning and Patton’s disappointed look, but that didn’t mean he had to be happy about it. After catching barely a wink of sleep between restless nightmares, he was feeling more grumpy than generous. 

Still, his own irritation faded as they grew closer to the rocky cliffs where he suspected the Human was, shifting into an intense concentration on the task ahead. It was a miracle that their initial encounter hadn’t gone sour, a miracle that this Human seemed young enough to be somewhat nonaggressive, and while he hoped that whatever they had said to scare the young kit off hadn’t irreparably damaged their budding acquaintanceship, he wasn’t counting on it.

He had his underarmor on for a reason.

The other two didn’t quite share his concerns. Logan’s arms had been in an excited, information-gathering flurry practically non-stop since they set out, and he and Patton had been discussing the plants and insects in the nearby forest that were relatively non toxic to them (and so would probably be no issue for a Human), and how many nutrients they would provide. None of them knew how much or what a Human needed to eat, but Patton seemed firmly of the opinion that whatever the kid was eating, it wasn’t enough. 

“Fledgelings need plenty of food and the proper nutrients to grow up healthy! A lone child in the middle of one forest can’t possibly have all the variety they need in their diet,” the Ampen insisted, feathers fluffing up at the mere idea of a kid going hungry. 

“Another important factor to note is the planet itself is not the child’s home, and so may not have the necessary nutrients available at all, let alone in one localized area,” Logan added. 

“You two have enough variety in those packs to weigh down a mountain,” Roman interjected, “so how about we focus on not scaring the kid off before we even reach them. Human senses are ludicrously strong, enough so that they’ll hear you two yakking a parsec away.” 

They agreed to be stealthier, and just in time, because Roman was pretty sure he’d found a more solid trail than the ghost-like faded prints that seemed all to trek over the place. He gestured in Crav’n sign for the two of them to stay put and stay quiet, and then followed the fresh tracks until they came to the mouth of a small cave amongst the crevices and steep drops of the pale cliffs.

He slowly stalked into the cave, keeping his movements light and quiet even as the light grew dimmer and his vision more restricted. Before it could grow too dim, however, his gaze caught on round, un-rock-like silhouettes. 

It took a moment to identify the shapes as small, limp Humlilts, all piled up around the larger Human. He nearly physically recoiled at the sight. So, this was why the small creatures had gone missing: slaughtered en masse at the hand of a Deathworlder. Not for food nor shelter, not in defense of itself or others, just for the sake of the callous cruelty and disregard for life that Humans were apparently born with. 

Humlilts were small, but Patton was scarcely bigger. Once the Human got tired of playing at mimicry, would it try to add the Ampen to the hoard of bodies?

He wasn’t going to lose another family.

Almost against his will, a low, near-subsonic growl rumbled out of his throat. He took one advancing step forward, and then… 

And then, a tiny head poked up from the pile, small dark eyes staring at him over a long snout. 

Roman nearly tripped over his own feet, astonished. There was still a living Humlilt in there? 

Before he could even finish his thought, another head appeared, and then another, until there was a sea of fluffy faces and huge ears all pointed in his direction. The undersized ungulates were fine, each and every one of them. They had simply been sleeping, all cozied up with one of the most dangerous species in the universe. 

Roman felt a strange and overwhelming mixture of relief and shame, his scales flattening down guiltily. It was too late, though, the movement had already rippled through the group until it reached the Human. Their creepy mask was absent in rest, and they pawed at their eyes sleepily as they sat up to see what all the commotion was about. There was a red mark on one of their cheeks from where it had pressed against the cave floor.

The moment they saw who stood at the entrance of their little nook, all the color drained from their face. The Humlilts shifted uneasily, and Roman found himself bracing to have thirty miniscule sets of horns charging at him. They couldn’t really hurt him, but they were persistent little things, and Patton and Logan would not be happy if a bunch of Humlillts tried to drive them away from the Human before they’d even properly spoken.

Instead of siccing the plethora of tiny mammals on him, though, the kid whistled a few notes in a perfect echo of the Humlilts all-clear call, settling them down. They carefully detangled themself from the pile, trailing a few stray twigs and leaves behind them in the process. Roman wondered absently how long they’d been building the collection of plant matter that covered them. 

A few parting trills later, the kid was in front of him, holding their bony shoulders firm but unable to conceal the tremor in their legs. They raised their chin up in what looked like a friendly Crav’n greeting, but attitude-wise seemed more along the lines of a challenging stance. 

“No hurt,” they said firmly before Roman could say a word. “No hurt small--,” a few words in their own language here, “--small good. No hurt. No hurt. Yes?” 

“I’m not going to hurt you,” Roman tried to reassure them, “I swore, remember?” 

The kid stomped their foot once in… some kind of emphasis. “No hurt,” they started again with deliberate slowness, and then ended with the Humlilt whistle-greeting. Many of the Humlilts whistled back from where they were still observing the two of them. The small cavern echoed with the sound eerily. 

“You don’t want me to hurt the Humlilts? The small creatures?” Roman asked, gesturing to the pile of fluff and hooves, and was rewarded with the kid seeming satisfied. 

“Yes. Small good. Good good small. No hurt.” 

Roman extended his hand palm up for another oath. “I vow not to harm your small good friends,” he intoned solemnly. The kid patted his hand twice, bobbing their own head in a curious motion. Roman could only imagine the sort of notes Logan would be taking. 

Oh, right. He’d left the others in the bushes. 

“I brought my friends, too,” he informed the kid, who blinked up at him. “Logan and Patton, remember them? Little critter?” 

He said the last words in the chirps of the Ampen language, only a little strained by his accent, and the kid visibly brightened. “Little critter!” 

“Wait right here, and I’ll get them,” Roman instructed, lowering a flat hand to convey wait. The kid probably didn’t really grasp it, but seemed content enough to stay put, shifting from one foot to the other. 

It took no time at all to find Patton and Logan, who had progressively edged closer to the cliff face as he’d taken his sweet time in there. 

“Okay, so,” he started, “I know where all the missing Humlilts went.” 

---

Virgil shuffled his feet slightly, feeling the cool stone under his toes. 

He should probably leave now, because even if the fluffy chirp alien really was there, they knew or at least suspected he was a human, and aliens hated humans. All of them, even the ones that looked soft like birds or cool like dinosaurs. 

A soft, velvety nose poked up against his hand, and he squatted to gently pat the strange little singing puppy-antelope that had parted from the group to check on him. He couldn’t help but smile a little bit as it bumped its snout against his knee, sounding like a windchime. 

Okay. Maybe not all aliens. 

He looked up at the clitter-clatter of talons on rock, and then the fluffy chirping alien really did careen into view, feathers all puffed up like that very angry owl that had roosted outside his window for three whole hours one time. The other two bigger aliens came in only moments later.

Virgil couldn’t help but shrink back slightly from where he was still crouched, because aliens were weird and sometimes they did weird things that he didn’t really… get. Typically, this would be right before they started getting really mad or shaky, and screaming at him. 

Before Fluff-Chirp could get any closer, though, the puppy-antelope had charged between them, planting its little legs and lowering its head so that the little horns were pointed out in warning. Virgil went still, eyes darting between Fluff-Chirp and the little creature, who he was pretty sure was the one with the white spot on its forehead, the one he’d named Susan after his nice neighbor. 

The cool dinosaur alien had promised not to hurt them (he was pretty sure), but would it count if the puppy-antelopes attacked them first? 

Fluff-Chirp stepped forward a little bit, and Susan let out a shrill cry like someone blowing really hard on a flute. Virgil clapped his hands over his ears as he attempted to whistle the calm-down sound, but Susan would not be budged, even as the other two aliens got all tense and twitchy.

In front of it, Fluff-Chirp stopped advancing, and instead plopped down on the ground with a soft thump. They ruffled in their bag, and Virgil was struck with the fear that they would pull out a space blaster gun to shoot Susan for trying to protect him. Hurriedly, he crawled forwards and threw his arms around the puppy-antelope (puppylope?) and hugged it close to shield it from any laser gun beams, his eyes squeezing shut.

There was a grunt-grumble from the cool dinosaur, and the click-click-click of the bunches of arms of the blue one moving around, but all he heard from Fluff-Chirp was shuffling, and then—

“Hello good morning,” the fluffy alien said. Or at least, that was what Virgil thought the birdsong-like words meant. 

Fluff-Chirp always said it when waking up in their little camp, and Virgil had said it back, because that was just basic manners, especially when someone gives you stuff. Fluff-Chirp had given him a bunch of sweet sliced up fruit, kind of with the feeling of mangoes and the taste of strawberries. It had reminded him of home. 

It… kind of smelled like Fluff-Chirp’s fruit now, actually. 

—

Patton watched hopefully as the kid slowly opened one eye to peek over at them. 

He hadn’t meant to scare the poor little guy by rushing in, he’d just been absolutely delighted to hear that not only would he get to see some Humlilts after all, but also that the kid seemed to have some company after all.

Some very loyal company, if the one threat-displaying at him was any indication. Patton was careful not to engage, particularly since further back in the cave, he could see a whole assembly of tiny, reflective eyes. Roman would probably just hold him up in the air if there was any real danger, but it was the principle of the matter. He didn’t want to upset the little guys! 

Or the kid, who had finally spotted the dishes of fruit Patton had set out. 

“You wanna come eat with me, little critter?” Patton offered, patting the ground near him. 

“Little critter…,” the Human murmured. Their face was much more expressive now that it wasn’t mostly concealed by wood, and the kid looked painfully young. Probably no more than seven or eight sun cycles. Patton’s hearts twanged in sympathy.  

Slowly, like they were waiting for the rug to be yanked out from under their feet, the kid scooted forward enough that they could grab a few pieces of the dana fruit, setting one down in front of the Humlilt to distract it. Patton eye-crinkled encouragingly, and took a piece of his own to nibble on. 

“Do you remember me? I’m Patton. Patton,” he emphasized, ‘pat’-ing his own chest in example. 

The kid paused mid-bite, and then swiped their wrist over their mouth before mumbling, “Patton,” back. Patton glowed with happiness. 

“And that’s Logan,” he said, bolstered by one apparent success. Logan obligingly stepped forwards and gestured to himself. 

“I am Logan,” he enunciated clearly. 

The kid, who had stopped eating to focus wholeheartedly on this new task, scrunched his brow up. “I am Logan?” 

“No, not quite,” Logan corrected gently. “Logan. I am Logan.” He cast a meaningful look to Patton. 

“And I am Patton!” he added cheerfully, gesturing between the two of them. “Logan! Patton!”

“Logan,” the kid mimicked, looking at the Ulgorii and then the Ampen, “Patton.” 

“You got it! Good job!” Patton noticed that the kid was very careful to keep their hands in their lap, and wondered if Humans were normally this withdrawn, or if exposure to other aliens had caused this reticence. 

“Good job?” the kid echoed, wide eyed. They looked to Roman curiously, though only for a moment before dropping their gaze. 

“I am Roman,” Roman surprised them both by beating them to the introductory punch. 

“... Roman?” the kid offered, and got a chorus of nonsense praise for their effort. They bared their little teeth and clapped their hands together, and it took the three of them an alarmed pause and exchange of glances to realize that they weren’t, in fact, being threatened by a youngling. 

“Joy? Or perhaps, contentment?” Logan was mumbling to himself. “The skin around the child’s eyes folds much like an Ampen expression of happiness, so…” 

“It would make more sense to be happy after receiving praise, right?” replied Roman, who had gotten a bit bristly from nerves for a moment. Patton resisted the urge to elbow the both of them into not saying long, confusing sentences. Luckily, the kid seemed too occupied with their own thoughts to notice. 

“Patton, Logan, Roman,” they recited, looking at each of them in turn. Then, very carefully, they reached up and patted their own chest. “Virgil. I am Virgil?” 

There was a brief moment of stunned silence, and then Patton trilled in delight, clapping his hands in an echo of the Human’s gesture, in hopes that it would convey his own happiness and pride in the kid’s quick learning. The kid jumped, but then did that teeth-bearing smile again.

“Virgil!” he tested out, not quite getting the Human tones right, but that was okay because he could practice! “Virgil Virgil Virgil! Yes! That’s you!” 

“I am Virgil!” the Human was practically bouncing in place as they matched Patton’s energy, and Patton couldn’t help but dart forward and try to bump his head to the Human’s affectionately. 

Roman hissed something exceedingly panicked, but Patton was already using one of the Human’s bent legs to reach, and then he was brushing his antenna to the kid-- to Virgil’s forehead, and then the Human was lifting their arms slowly and curling them around him, and okay now Patton was a little bit concerned, but. 

But, all Virgil did was lean into him slightly, arms bracing but not suffocating, and sniffle once, like they were holding back tears. Any resolve Patton had to not give his teammates stress ulcers faded away like dust in the wind, and he leaned in carefully and wrapped his arms around as much as he could reach of the kid’s shoulders and neck, which Roman would tell him was stupid dangerous because necks were weak points on Humans and they would absolutely react defensively-- 

Virgil promptly burst into tears, their chin coming to hook over Patton’s shoulder as a stuttering little wail worked its way out of their system. Patton made soothing nonsense croons and sung Ampen lullabies as the kid shuddered their way through a good cry, and tried not to feel too alarmed that unlike Ampens, Humans apparently leaked emotions while they cried.

Once Virgil had more or less settled down, they seemed completely wiped from the outpour of emotion, eyes drooping, body tilting to one side. For the first time since they’d arrived, the kid looked too wiped out to be nervous. Sure enough, only a few moments later, they shifted to curl up on their side, falling asleep on the cold stone easily.

Patton looked up at his teammates from where he was sitting in the center of the curled c-shape of the kid’s body, and offered them a sheepish shrug. “Well. Now we know that Humans can experience touch hunger?”

[battle-of-roses]

When Rome Burns : Part 1

TW : Logan Roy's A+ Parenting, Manipulative Logan

By @your-gay-cousin-clover

---

With a certain hint of trepidation, Tom starts dressing himself to meet up with Shiv in downtown New York. The plan was pretty simple for the day: meet up with Shiv, find a gift for her father, put on his best Midwest honourable fellow personality and charm the pants of all her family. He stopped for a moment in the middle of his bedroom, standing there in his white button up, boxers and black socks, biting his lip on whether to take the gold ring, he’d picked out a week ago, to the party. After all this time he had spent with her, ever since their whirlwind romance in Hong Kong, he was sure that she was the one for him. His soulmate, the-one-who-he-got, his loml. The question was of when?

The party would be a good place to propose. Lavish surroundings, her entire family, and a pretty pricey ring to show his commitment to her. All eggs in your basket, he’d say if- when she said yes. And it would all be fine and okay. He starts to daydream for a moment, his dreams flying higher than just becoming Logan Roy’s son-in-law, maybe he’d join in the business himself. He would swoop in, take over one of the main branches of Royco, maybe ATN and continue the family business until he had his own billionaire kids à la Shiv.

Beep! Beep!

His fantasies suddenly dashed down into the floor. He jerks and reaches to the phone on the table to receive the call. It’s Shiv.

“Hey honeybee,” he says in a sweet-syrupy tone that he hoped conveyed his affections accordingly.

“Where are you?”

He immediately frowns. Her tone is clipped sharp, a razor’s edge, threatening him to not speak a word off their usual script.

“I’m … ahh… just getting dressed. Oh, oh, how formal is the even supposed to be? Do you think I could sneak in a tartan tie pattern to impress your Dad?” He tries to detract from her irritation.

“The fuck, Tom? Don’t be silly. Just wear whatever you want, you’re not a pre-schooler. It’s a formal event, but don’t wear anything weird or embarrassing.” Her words just kick up a latent anger in him that he press down as per usual. It’s alright, maybe it’s her job that’s got her stressed.

He tries another jovial voice for a size. “Ok, love-,” he continues, but there’s no Shiv on the other side of the call. Just him and the dial tone mocking him.

Right.

Nothing weird or embarrassing.

He drops the ring into a drawer of his bedside table and shuts it close.

—

The day goes in its own pace and Shiv makes a hasty apology about her signal getting dropped in the elevator. He waves it off, he always goes. There’s no use holding on a grudge with his future-wife-to-be, on silly things like one too many passive aggressive words and brushed off endearments. And so, here he is now. Standing in the middle of an opulent penthouse living room, chatting pleasantries with Marcia, hands sweaty as he tightens his grasp on the gilded box with the watch.

It had been pretty expensive to purchase on his own. He and Shiv were comfortable, sure. But they - no, he wasn’t Olympus rich like the Roys, America’s number one conservative messiah. He hopes it’s enough. Enough for a job at ATN, enough for Shiv, above all, enough for Logan.

His fucking future hung on a balance because of a little ticking metal machine.

Ding!

There. The elevator’s number stuck still on their current floor and his breathing picks up. Everyone else collects around the door to waiting as the metal door open, but he stands back, alone. For a split second, he’s swallowed up in all the gold, gild and glamour around him and he simply can’t breathe.

He sticks out like a sore thumb in the middle of all this. No matter how brave, how much of a fucking asshole he pretends to be. He does not deserve to be here. He’s what? Got a few hundred thousand in his savings, while collectively in front of him stands the 3rd richest family in America. He just wants to bolt and never come back.

And in the same fleeting moment, the doubt hastily vaporises as Logan Roy himself steps into the view amidst loud yells of “Happy Birthday!”.

The moment he sees Logan, it’s something of oh, that echoes in his head. Like oh, he’s just an old man. And he indeed looks frazzled, startled by the sudden cheers. But he whispers something to Marcia, who takes his coat and hands it off to one of the numerous maids hurrying around the house.

And then he straightens up to face the crowd. There’s something in his eyes that makes Tom want to shrink back against the patterned wallpaper. Something fierce, something very calculating. He watches as Logan makes his way through the crowd of his children and nods absent-mindedly at everyone’s greetings.

“Shiv,” Logan says, turning to Shiv, his back to Tom “Where’s Wambsgans? I thought we invited him.”

Shiv’s expression falters for a second, perhaps debating whether her father’s joking or not. It’s clear, he’s not, when the beat of silence extends between them. She smiles back again, radiant. And gosh, Tom loves her so much.

“He’s behind you, Dad!”

Tom didn’t have much time to be mortified as Logan turned to him and stuck his hand out to shake. Awkwardly balancing his watch box on one hand, Tom tries to make grip firm and solid. Logan gives him two shakes and quickly removes his hand.

“Wambsgans, you’ve got a strong grip. Trying to break an old man’s hand, eh?”

Fuck. Of course, Logan Roy would be above all masculine handshaking bullshit that the Wall Street posers were really into. Logan knew he was the king of the world, didn’t need to prove it to any Tom-Dick-Harry on the street.

Logan’s already turning away from him, but Tom tries to swallow his foot down the throat trying not to make his first impression even worst. He lets out a laugh, but winces internally. Too braying, too harsh, too corny.

“Well, you’re not that weak, Mr Roy-“ He tries. He does. But Shiv already looks disappointed and Logan’s barely listening to him. His time to prove himself is running out.

Ding!

Everyone turns to look at the elevator again. Kendall Roy steps out the lift with his ex-wife and children in tow. He’s wearing that same black blue outfit combo, just like the one on Forbes, proudly declaring him as the HEIR WITH THE FLAIR. Tom has read Kendall’s entire wikipedia enough times to know that the stress marks and the lack of the photogenic smile was simply because of his age.

Drugs - Divorce - Demotion.

Yet like every American hero billionaire, Kendall got the second chance that could only be afforded to the rich and now, most probably, he was going to the Successor to the entire media conglomerate. Even then, Tom wouldn’t say that he exactly envies the other man.

“Ken!” Logan’s voice somehow sounds surprised as well as disappointed. “I didn’t think you’d come. Did we close the Vaulter deal?”

Kendall’s stance becomes a bit wooden as he reaches down to accept his father’s embrace. His ex turns to Marcia and hands off a wrapped box with a pleasant smile. The kids run off with Grace’s kid and Kendall stands there looking a bit unsettled as he answers “oh, no, no Dad. They’re still hammering out the details. I took a break to wish you on your birthday. Not sure how many more there might be.” The conversation mills a bit around the two, everyone leans in a bit to hear.

“You did?” Logan repeats with furrowed brows. “Well, where’s your cousin? I thought he’d rather come than you.”

Kendall looks taken aback for a moment. Everyone tries another round of conversation, but Tom simply nods along to other’s words as he tries to figure out information about the cousin. A cousin? Shiv’s never mentioned a cousin being involved in … well, anything.

“Greg?” Kendall asks, his voice uncertain. Logan looks him in the eye and shares a sardonic grin. “Yes, Greg. Unless Marianne happened to suddenly stop by. What’s he doing? Wasn’t he with you this morning?”

Kendall seems to shrink into himself under his father’s gaze. “Greg’s..” he starts and stops for a moment. “Greg’s with the team in the building. He wanted to finish the deal before joining the party.”

“Shame.” Logan says, “But good for him, as soon as we wrap up this deal the better. Anyway, kids, can I talk to you alone for a moment? I just want you to sign something.”

All of them exchange glances with each other, the meaning of which Tom is too novel to understand. All of them quietly follow in the steps of their father. The rest of them stare.

“So,” Marcia says, clapping her hands together. The sound echoes in the eerie silence devoid of birthday wishes. “Let’s get started on lunch shall we?”

—

On the way to the “game” which was highly requested in a cult-like chanting, Tom abruptly turns to Shiv and asks “I didn’t know you had cousin working at Waystar?”

She ceases typing on her phone and looks up with pinched brows, seemingly in thought. Tom watches the city go by in a blur from Shiv’s side of the window and waits. “

“Oh,” She says “You mean Greg? Yeah, he’s like my second cousin. Uncle Ewan’s only grandson, although I don’t think he’s seen them since he was ten? He’s chief strategist at Royco. You’ll see him soon enough when you join.”

A when, not an if. And immediately, Tom’s heart lifts. He fights a grin on his face and catches Shiv’s eye. She smiles a bit, the stress from her face falling away for a second and turns back to her phone.

All was well.

—

All was not well.

Tom kind of looks like an idiot. At least in his own head, he’s been lugging around the watch box the entire evening. Right now, he’s standing behind Logan and Shiv like an obedient puppy waiting for Shiv to call upon him. The rest of the family is setting up the baseball game while the groundskeepers looking on fascinated.

Tom pretty much feels like them.

“So, about Tom,” Shiv says and Logan seems to be considering her words. Tom’s ears pick up, his hands turn sweaty again and he fidgets with the box in his hands. He imagines he can hear the watch tick inside like a time bomb.

“Hmm…” Logan replies, peering out into the distance. Kendall’s already gone into the wind, about half-an-hour ago, his ear glued to the phone talking to “Greg”. Tom waits for that syllable to end and simply waits.

“What do you think about putting him under Greg?”

Despite the short distance between him and the duo, he hears an undercurrent of something sinister his way. Something almost amusingly cruel.

“Wh-why Greg? Isn’t that - like isn’t he already busy with the buyings and everything else? And surely you don’t expect Tom to be his assistant? He’s much more experienced in business.” Shiv’s protest add a bit of tension to his mind.

What was the deal with this Greg? It was almost as if he was some kind of a boogeyman to Shiv and her siblings. But someone that Logan clearly approved of, but there was something very odd about the whole missing cousin.

It was as if being put under the cousin would somehow be bad for him. Geez, was he some kind of a hardass?

“No, no. I’m sure Greg’s not to busy to welcome your boyfriend into the family business. He can help guide Tom and put him in a fitting department. Not to busy to help family.”

Tom expects Shiv to say something. To put off Logan’s plan and for a moment, she does. But instead, she stops and frowns.

A beat.

Tom takes it as his cue to step in with the box.

This better work.

—

[spacetimewraithwrites-archive]

Fictober ‘21 Prompt No. 2 — “You have no proof.”

Category: Original WIP: Misfortunate Sol Rating: T (I guess? idk. I usually put T to be safe) Timeline: ¯\_(ツ)_/¯  CW: None Word Count: 1,111 Additional Notes: I was about four paragraphs in when I realized I wanted this in the first draft in some iteration lmao

***

As had been the case for a week and two days, at exactly seven fifteen in the morning, Sol rapped his knuckles on the door of room 205. On the occasion that he was early, he would stand to the side of the peephole and keep an eye on the minute hand of his watch until time. Should he stand within the line of sight of the peephole, the door would fling open at exactly seven fifteen in the morning and a shrieking elderly woman would fly at him, ranting and raving about how much of a disgusting deviant voyeur he may or may not have been. Getting a word in about how there was no feasible way to see inside the room from his vantage proved futile.

This time, he remembered.

The door opened, patiently, and a sweet older lady with a gentle smile and an unsightly fox wrapped around her neck held her hand out to him. “Good morning, Solomon.”

Sol inclined his head and placed the morning paper in her hand. “Mrs. Van Dorn. Front page, fashion, weather, and funnies.”

“Oh, punctuality! You are such a delight. I must tell Marabie to give you a raise.”

“She says every morning, and hasn’t followed through once.”

“Pardon?”

“Breakfast is being served downstairs,” Sol covered briskly. “The Keoghs are up and eating as well, now.”

Mrs. Van Dorn turned her nose up, holding the folded paper close to her chest. “I see. I’m surprised. What with them being young and fresh from the chapel, I would’ve expected them to be out and about somewhere in the flesh of the afternoon, dying of dehydration and overexertion.”

Sol pulled his face into a polite grimace. “...Madam?”

He made a swift exit upon being shooed away, and took long strides to the elevators. The leftmost one opened as soon as he pressed the button, and he ran headlong into a towering, bulky figure hunched in the very front and center of the car.

“Jeez, kid,” the solid object grunted, shifting out of the way.

Sol blinked at the trench coat and the loose tie. “Oh, I have to be in hell,” he blurted.

Detective Logan cleared his throat and stuffed his hands in the pockets of his rumpled coat, and though his mannerisms conveyed ambivalence, his tone conveyed obnoxious authority. “Mind if I tag along for a bit?”

Throwing his hands up and marching into the car behind Logan, Sol scoffed. “I suppose I could say no and have a lovely jail cell to sleep in tonight, couldn’t I?”

“Yeah,” Logan muttered, scratching his stubbled jaw as the doors shut in front of him. He tapped the uniformed operator on the shoulder and jabbed his thumb in Sol’s direction. “Wherever he wants.”

The operator turned an expectant look onto Sol, who had somehow forgotten she was there.

“Tenth floor, please, Amelia,” he sighed. “Detective, I am very busy this morning, I don’t have time for whatever it is you came here to bother me for.”

“Who says I’m here for you?” When Sol folded his hands in front of him and graciously provided a withering look, Logan nodded. “Alright, I’m here for you. There’s details about a certain bathtub incident that needs further clarification.”

The elevator shuddered as soon as Amelia tipped the lever, and the brief jolt of the car ascending garnered just as brief a pause.

Sol cast his eyes to the ceiling as if he could see where they were going. “There’s nothing further to clarify. I gave my statement three times already.”

“Some things just aren’t adding up.”

“I’ve told you everything.”

“See, I don’t think you have. There were wet footprints on the tile leading to and from the tub that match with yours, you know.”

“And I’ve mentioned in several ways to your surely competent officers that the footprints had in fact been left by me, as I had approached the tub to try to determine whether my next step was to make lunch for Carey or call the coroner for the fourth time in my life.”

Logan thinned his eyes. “Why would you make lunch for someone you didn’t know very well, Mr. Iron?”

“Why would I make breakfast that morning for someone I didn’t know very well, Detective Logan?”

Logan’s brows pinched together over wide eyes and his voice dropped an octave. “Why would you make breakfast for someone you didn’t know very well, Mr. Iron?”

“Why do birds sing and bees sting and trees get hit by lightning, Detective Logan?” Sol retorted with added aggression. “I am a grown man with grown feelings, and some things just really aren’t any of your business.”

“You had a romantic relationship with the victim?”

“Sure,” Sol shrugged dramatically, exasperated. “If by romantic, you mean we shared a cab and then a bed for a night, then yes, I confessed my undying love and proposed marriage and talked about raising a family with Carey Goddamn Whatshisname.”

Sol and Logan held eye contact for roughly four seconds before, at the same time, glancing sideways at Amelia, who kept her attention firmly on the floor indicator yet made a noise much like a mouse being strangled by a piano wire.

Clearing his throat, Logan rocked on his heels. “Right. Well. I still need to ask some questions—”

"Ten,” Amelia interrupted, and the elevator doors opened with a small chime.

Sol let out a breath of relief and stormed into the empty hallway. “Thank god.”

To his dismay, Logan followed close behind. “Look, kid, I’m gonna find out—”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Sol cut in, whipping around, “but I am exhausted. In case you’ve forgotten, I’ve had to call in four deaths all very recently. I’ve been running around trying to forget what they all looked like. I’m trying to forget what their loved ones looked like when they arrived at our apartments, spotting their corpses covered with sheets, and I am desperate to keep this job so I can afford to never have to go through any of that ever again. Please leave me alone so I can do that.”

The expression on Logan’s face, angled down to Sol as he spoke could be described as solemn, but perhaps that was asking for too much. His jaw moved as if he’d wanted to say something he ended up not saying. “I’m just trying to find justice,” he said quietly.

“You have no proof,” Sol said with finality. “There is no proof.”

He knew the edge in his eyes came through when Logan frowned, but all he wanted was to get as far away from him as humanly possible.

[ruined-my-dramatic-entrance]

Hey, everyone! Decided to post a Sanders Sides fanfic I’m working on. Here’s chapter one of A Self-Study on Abnormal Reactions Influenced by Patton:

Angst/Fluff (initial angst, mostly fluff), Logicality, Prinxiety, Chapter 1/?, 1,600 words

~Chapter One: The Initial Incident~

Logan liked rules as a general, well, rule. Rules, reason, and predictability were all very appealing to him. With those figurative tools at his disposal, life was stable, secure, and satisfactory. Thus, one could imagine that it was odd to Logan — bothersome, even, unsettling, perhaps — when his own life seemed to falter from its straightforward path. He did not understand something about himself, but he was Logic. Surely, he should be able to comprehend himself with ease. With a heavy sigh, Logan pondered these predicaments as well as the events that had occurred during the last three months that had led him to this moment, hesitant with a decision for the first time in years. Maybe he should have gone to sleep early that night.

The night in question, the very first night that something was amiss with the logical side, was December 12th. Roman, the resident drama king, had thrown what Logan could only describe as a childish tantrum over his own illogical ideas. As the prince in question rambled on, his tone grew angrier with frustration. Logan did not like that and narrowed his eyes.

“You guys never listen to me! Creativity is kind of my whole thing. I’m not saying that my video ideas are the most important, but, yeah, they kind of obviously are?” Roman ranted, rolling his eyes dramatically and crossing his arms.

“I-I’m really sorry if I made you feel like that, Ro, I just don’t think that Thomas can handle it emotionally right now,” Patton replied, eyebrows scrunched upwards in guilt and concern.

Virgil was far past his patience running out and stared Roman down out of protective confidence. With a few exasperated gestures, he explained, “Look, you... Simba-leton or whatever — Thomas is stressed out so bad that he can’t even sleep through the night lately—“

“And whose fault would that be, Virgil?” Roman snapped back, cutting off the man in question before he could even finish his sentence.

“I—”

“I’m not the one making him feel so worried all the time. Maybe if you calmed down, Sir, it would be easier for Thomas to sleep and to film my ideas. Maybe it would be better for Thomas’s career if you didn’t always bring him to a new All Time Low every time he gets busy,” Roman raved. Virgil went silent and averted his gaze to the floor as if it was too painful to look up.

“Enough,” Logan demanded, standing up and approaching the others. As he broke the silence, it seemed to snap Virgil out of his thoughts.

“You know I have, Roman. I don’t have to take this right now,” the anxious side muttered, much softer and sadder than the anger he had originally intended. As he finished his statement, he looked up at Roman — only Roman, no one else — for a split second, revealing deep pain in his eyes. Speaking of his eyes, were those tears or were the three others mistaken? They didn’t have long to confirm, since Virgil sunk out with another word. Roman’s face flashed with regret and desperation for a moment before he replaced that expression with false confidence.

“I just think that Thomas’s audience would really enjoy a video a day for the 12 days of Christmas. It would make their Christmases truly magical,” Roman insisted, much less angrily, with a fanciful wave of his hand.

“Yes, if Thomas were to successfully publish 12 high quality videos in the next two weeks, it would likely be a positive experience for the viewers,” Logan conceded, to which Roman smiled and Patton grew nervous. “However, Thomas would not be able to produce videos of the necessary caliber in such short notice and especially not in such poor mental health. Your plan would result in Thomas having a mental health crisis and uploading videos that would probably be subpar to say the least, assuming he would be able to upload all 12 at all,” he elaborated.

“... But isn’t it still possible?” Roman persisted, a little shaken and nervous.

“Possible, yes. Probable, no. It is a risk that is not worth taking because the likelihood of success is minimal,” Logan insisted.

“I’m sorry, Ro, it’s just kinda not a good time for such an ambitious project,” Patton agreed apologetically.

“Yeah… it never is,” Roman grumbled in a deflated voice, sinking out.

“Goodnight, Roman—” Patton called out after him, a little too late and with no reply. His smile faded and his shoulders fell.

“You know you don’t have to pretend to be happier around us, right, Patton? We’ve discussed this matter before,” Logan remarked, scanning the other Side with his eyes.

“I…” Patton sighed. “I know. I’m sorry. I just didn’t want to make anyone feel worse, ya know?” he responded with a sad smirk that quickly dissolved into tears.

“Patton—”

“I just wish I could help them better. I’m s-supposed to be able to, right?” Patton lamented, wiping his eyes with the palms of his hands even though more tears were still flowing and his cheeks were wet once more.

“Patton, you are doing your best. Everyone knows it and everyone appreciates it, even if we may not be very vocal about it sometimes. You matter and you are essential to the group. Sometimes, you can’t fix everything...” He hesitated as Patton’s lip quivered. “But, that is perfectly normal. Roman cannot fix every issue by creative means. Virgil cannot protect Thomas from everything. I cannot… solve every issue from my perspective alone. We need your input,” he reassured.

“Do you really mean all that, Lo…?” Patton asked with a look in his eyes that conveyed such vulnerability and excitement that Logan couldn’t help but find himself a little endeared. Just a little.

“Yes, of course, I do,” he confirmed, straightening his necktie.

Patton squealed softly and smiled as wide as he could. “That means so much to me! You’re the best, Logan. You always seem to fix everything. It’s so… cool!” He took a step closer in excitement.

“I am simply doing what I can to help, as always. Now, it would probably be best for both of us to get some rest. It has been a long day and getting enough sleep will help everyone feel better,” he recommended.

“Oh…” Patton murmured, seemingly disappointed.

“Is there an issue with that?” Logan inquired, frowning slightly in confusion.

“Um… not really. I kind of just wanted to ask you something first,” he mumbled, finding it difficult to meet the other’s eyes out of shyness.

“Ah. What is it?” Logan prompted.

“Well… could I, uh… would it be okay if I hugged you?” Patton asked nervously.

“I… I’m afraid I don’t understand. You’ve hugged me before with little to no warning. Why ask now?”

“I ask now because you never really seemed comfortable with it in the past. Too much… emotion for you, I guess. I-I don’t want to make you uncomfortable, of course! I only want to hug you if you would enjoy it too — or at least, not mind it. I was just wondering if you would be comfortable with a hug right now,” Patton explained, almost frantic out of awkwardness.

“If that was all, of course, Patton,” Logan agreed. Immediately, the other Side practically leapt next to him and buried his face into his chest while wrapping his arms around Logan’s waist. After a moment’s hesitation, Logan reciprocated this… display of affection and attempted to hold him in a comforting manner, since Patton had been so upset that night.

“I think this is the best hug you’ve ever given me, Logan,” the moral side remarked, though his words were a little muffled into Logan’s shirt. “You make my life so much better. I don’t know what I — or any of the others would do without you,” he admitted.

“I… appreciate that, Patton. It is nice to know that I’m appreciated in my efforts,” Logan murmured steadily, though he felt a little something was off in himself. Just a little, of course.

“Appreciated? Logan, we love you so much! I always talk to the others about how much I enjoy being around you and how helpful you are to everyone and how much you mean to me — er, to all of us, really,” Patton rambled, passionate with admiration.

“I…” Logan was at a loss for words… that boded poorly, not to mention that the “little something” he felt around his heart was turning into a much larger, much more concerning something.

“Right, sorry, I’ve probably been hugging you for way too long now. We should sleep for now, like you said, getting enough sleep is important so that we can be at our best to help Thomas!” Patton said, letting go of Logan, who may have missed that feeling just a moment later… he wasn’t sure.

“Y-Yes, that would probably be the best course of action for now. Goodnight, Patton,” Logan said, having to put in an abnormal amount of effort into keeping his voice steady.

“Goodnight, Lo,” Patton replied with a cheery smile. As the other began to sink out, he added, “and, uh… thank you.” His smile had grown a bit smaller, yet it was more tender somehow, softer.

“You’re welcome. I’ll always do my best to help when I’m able to.”

“I know.” And Patton’s smile widened again, which somehow seemed to affect Logan’s current odd feelings further.

The latter man sunk out and, once he was in his room, brought his fingertips to his mouth in contemplation and grabbed his notebook with his other hand. This situation was a new occurrence and it was fairly concerning. He would have to keep track of it and all its details in the most beneficial way he knew how. Opening the notebook, he began writing notes.

A Self-Study on Abnormal Reactions Influenced by Patton:

[analogicisms]

Music & Poetry - Chapter Two

Summary: Popular-but-not-really-famous lyricist Virgil Quinn meets an attractive poet named Logan who claims to hate music. Virgil, who believes lyrics to be every bit the poetry as the kind found in books and anthologies and inspirational posters, feels the need to prove to Logan wrong.

Ship: Analogical (with others in the background)

Rating & Warnings: PG 13.

Chapters: 1 - 2

AO3: Chapter Two

Thanks to @romantichopelessly for betaing and to @sunshineandteddybears and @paperghastly for pre-reading.

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

Chapter Two

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

♞ LOGAN ♞

What had he been thinking?

That was the question of the day, apparently. 

First, he had agreed to give a complete stranger—a very aesthetically pleasing stranger, but a stranger no less, his brain supplied—a week to somehow, miraculously, suddenly get Logan to enjoy something he had not enjoyed for most of his life. Sure, he had done it, because he was very attracted to the individual and would not mind spending more time with him. Especially if he blushed a bit more. 

If that had not been enough, he had then texted said individual—of course, he would have regardless simply because he had already said he would. He had sent a simple hello, this is Logan Wright sending you a text message as I stated I would when we met at The Bumble Bean earlier today around noon. Sending that had not been the strange thing. The strange thing had been that when he received the hey… what’s up? Logan did in fact respond back and tell him about how he was going to speak for a local graduation and was spending time with a dear old friend. The other guy—Virgil—had responded cool and Logan had just begun to feel disappointment when he received a second text that told about Virgil’s own day. From there, the conversation took off, Logan often catching himself surprised that it was so easy to talk to this Virgil character. 

Neither of those things had been the craziest of his actions that day. When he told Thomas—and by proxy, Thomas’s husband Remy—about the cute “emo” guy at the coffee shop, Logan thought for sure he was out of out-of-the-ordinary things to do. That was until he then told them he was currently texting him and quite enjoying the conversation. That one didn’t last long, however, because Virgil asked him to meet up for drinks that night and Logan, completely unprompted, looked up at Thomas—and Remy by proxy, considering he was currently seated across Thomas’s lap—and conveyed all of this to them. 

Logan knew by the sudden glints in their eyes and the smirks on their faces that there was absolutely no way Logan was going to decline. Logan was quite grateful for the excuse but if he was being honest with himself, something he worked diligently on every day, then he would know that he would have agreed to the “get-together” whether Thomas and Remy demanded him to or not. 

Nobody else, however—least of all those two—needed to know. 

    ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

💀 VIRGIL 💀

“Oh my God! What the fuck—”

“Language!” Patton frowned deeply at him. Virgil waved it away. 

This was important! His life was screwed and not in the good way. He was fucked. Again, not in the good way. 

“What the feckity-feck did I do?” 

He was looking at his phone in horror. 

Patton looked at Emile, who smiled softly and nodded. Getting up, Patton crossed to where Virgil stood in the middle of their living room. Virgil had asked to come over. 

He had just been in the middle of telling them about his and Mystery Man’s conversation. Every so often, Patton watched as his face grew brighter and a smile slipped over his lips, fingers moving over the keys as he presumably replied to this Mystery Man—whose name was Logan and he was a poet, but Mystery Man was just to fun to say and so he and Emile still used it. He couldn’t help the burst of warmth that spread through him as he squeezed Emile’s hand tighter for a few moments. A happy sigh escaped him as Emile’s thumb brushed over his knuckles. Patton was just about to sneak a little kiss when Virgil’s outburst took place. 

Still a little upset about the unnecessary language, Patton put that out of his mind in favor of studying Virgil’s face. He immediately jumped into super friend mode, taking the other’s phone out of his hand. Virgil let him, his hand falling uselessly to his side as he closed his eyes. 

Patton frowned but was grateful it seemed as if Virgil was no longer in risk of a panic attack. At least, for the time being. Worried about what had caused such a reaction, Patton reached out to grip Virgil’s shoulder. 

“Hey, buddy. I’m going to read this, if that’s okay with you? Just want to know what’s going on so I… so we can help… that okay with you, kiddo?”

Virgil blinked and looked at Patton then at his phone. With a sigh, he nodded. 

Patton smiled in thanks and took a moment to go through the text, making sure only to look at the recent ones. He frowned, not sure what was up until he reread the last text between the two which was from Virgil to Logan and it was… 

“Oh my god, Em! Virge asked him out!” 

“Patton!!!” 

Patton blushed and frowned though it only lasted for a few seconds. He was just too excited. 

“I’m sorry, Vivi! It’s just that I’m so proud of you. We both are and on top of that, it’s just so cute how smitten you are. You’re like… my new favorite romcom!” 

Virgil snorted at that and sighed, reaching out to take his phone. Patton closed out of the text and reached out, offering it to him. At that very moment, however, his phone sounded with a new message notification. 

“Oh my gosh, he replied!!” 

“Thanks, Pat! I couldn’t tell!” He wriggled uncomfortably. “I… I can’t look.” 

Patton nodded. “Do you want me to read it and tell you what it says?”

Virgil hesitated but nodded. 

Patton nodded in response and pulled the phone back to him. Opening the text message, he read the words on the screen as his face broke into a huge grin. 

“What’s it say? Is it bad? Is he creeped out? Tell me he’s creeped out so I can go home and make myself a nest and listen to MCR until I’m a hundred and five years old and die from a heart attack…” 

Emile, who had been a silent observer for most of the exchange, did his best to not make mental notes of what Virgil had just said. He is not your patient, Picani. He is your friend. Standing, he moved to stand next to Patton. He placed a hand on Virgil’s shoulder and squeezed. 

“Do you want to put this away for now and come back to it in a moment?”

Virgil nodded quickly. Emile nodded and was holding his hand to hold onto the phone when Virgil reached out to stop him. 

“No, actually… I can do it now. Pat… hand me my phone. I can do this.” 

“Yes you can, kiddo.” Patton agreed, handing him the phone. He then looked up at Emile who smiled back, knowing that the answer on the other side of that text message was a good one. 

This was soon confirmed as they watched Virgil read the response, his face growing more and more red. That was okay though, because the smile on his face was growing just as big. When he looked up at them, his black eyes were the brightest and warmest either of them had ever seen. 

“He said yes!” 

“Oh that’s so great!” Patton exclaimed. 

“He would have been insane not to, and I would know,” Emile added. Virgil and Patton laughed at his joke, Virgil snorting and rolling his eyes. 

“Thank you, guys!” He said, patting them both on the back. “So we’re cool to reschedule drinks’ night?”

“Absolutely, kiddo. We can do Friday like all the cool cats do.” 

Virgil hugged Patton and clapped Emile on the shoulder. 

“See ya later guys!” 

“Good luck…” Patton called out. 

“Not that you need it!” Emile finished, wrapping his arm around Patton’s waist to pull him against him. Once Virgil was out the door, the therapist beamed at his boyfriend. “Shall we go back to cuddling?”

Patton smiled up at him and nodded, stepping on tippy-toe to rub their noses together. 

“Yes, please.”

   ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆ ⌒ ★ ⌒ ☆

Disclaimer:  The author does not own Sanders Sides or any of the characters found therein. They are also not affiliated with Thomas Sanders, Joan Stokes, or the Thomas Sanders team. Only the complete story as it is written is the property of the author and is not to be copied or reposted without express permission from the author.

[hiddendreamer67]

Borrower Analogical (14)

Chapter Summary: November 24th? 2019. Logan begins to wonder what sort of pet Roman expects him to be; meanwhile, Patton asks a favor.

October Prompt #14: Pet.

(Check my reblog for links to the previous chapters)

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“Woah!” Roman rushed to catch the little guy after it had darted off again. Though Roman had tried to make playtime a more contained activity, the tiny always seemed to find a way around Roman’s barriers at just the right moment. 

Roman held him up briefly, giving a slightly annoyed sigh. “You know, if I didn’t know any better, I’d almost say you wanted to throw yourself off the table.” Of course, the little person didn’t say anything. He never did. All Roman got was the now familiar feeling of struggling that meant the smaller figure wanted to be put down so that the whole thing would start all over again. 

Instead, Roman just put the guy back into the cage and locked the door. It was a bit exhausting trying to chase after him all the time. Roman began to pack up the various toys, deciding it was time for a break.

“Oh, don’t look at me like that.” Roman caught the brief glare shot his way. “Playtime’s over.”

Logan quickly turned away, going to sulk in the back corner of the cage with his arms crossed. Though he hated the derogatory term of ‘playtime’, implying he was a human child, Logan did prefer those instances to being cooped up all day. It was a welcome change of pace. Now if Roman could stop halting his escape attempts and grabbing him like a doll, Logan could even enjoy himself.

Logan rubbed at his sides subconsciously as he thought about it. It was always terrifying to find himself gripped between Roman’s fingers. However, despite a small amount of bruises from a few incidents when Roman had grabbed too quickly, Logan had to admit that at least Roman had not taken the opportunity to injure him. Whenever Logan showed true discomfort that grip would immediately lessen, allowing Logan the proper breathing space.

It was...odd. Logan wasn’t sure exactly what Roman expected of him. Surely Roman viewed the borrower as some form of pet and simply didn’t want to be a cruel pet owner. Yet was that truly the case? Roman still was insistent on the fact he wanted to converse with Logan. It was the only topic on which Roman never wavered, and the one sense of independence Logan was able to maintain was keeping silent.

Logan wasn’t sure what to make of it. After all, the way Roman spoke to him (though still degrading at times) was less like the usual ‘pet talk’ Logan had viewed in the past. Logan sighed, letting his head rest against one of the cool bars. Whenever the borrower thought about this conundrum too much, his head hurt.

“Hey.” Roman leaned down, looking into the cage to see the little guy moping again. “Are you okay?”

Logan frowned. There it was again, that concern. Why should Roman care? It didn’t matter what Logan felt. It wasn’t like anything would change.

“I didn’t hurt you, did I?” Roman insisted, leaning closer.

Logan shook his head slightly, but quickly disguised the action as merely shifting his position. Logan’s heart pounded in his chest for a moment. Though Roman was insistent in his belief that Logan could understand the human- which to Roman’s credit was true- Logan had never acted in a way to encourage that belief. The more reactions he gave Roman, the more questions Logan would be asked.

And the less freedom the borrower would have.

There was a shifting sound, and Logan tensed in anticipation of yet another round of prodding to get him to speak. However, with a familiar creak of hinges, Logan didn’t need to look up to know that Roman had left the room. 

Roman sighed, closing the bedroom door behind him. He headed to the kitchen, spotting Patton on the couch on his way.

“Hey, Pat.” Roman waved in greeting, causing Patton to jump slightly. Clearly his roommate had been lost in thought lately. Roman supposed they all were.

“Roman!” Patton got up, putting his textbook down and following him to the kitchen. “I was looking for you.”

“You were?” Roman smirked, looking back at Patton’s pile of notes. “In a textbook?” 

“Well, ah, no.” Patton said sheepishly. “I got distracted.”

 Roman pulled out a loaf of bread, intent on making a snack.

“In that case, what made you seek out my presence?” Roman gave him an over the shoulder teasing smile as he stuck a slice of bread in the toaster. “Did you miss my charming personality so?”

“Of course, Roman.” Patton giggled, rolling his eyes. “I was actually going to ask a favor of you.”

“Oh?” Roman pulled out the crofter’s jam to ready himself for the toast.

“Well, my dad wants me to visit him for thanksgiving.” Patton admitted. Roman gave him a sympathetic glance. Roman and Patton were childhood friends who grew up on the same street, which meant Roman was well aware of every messy detail of his parent’s divorce. “And I didn’t want to, but he insisted on paying for my plane ticket, and since it’s so far I don’t want to push my luck and only stay for a single day but break can be a long time-”

“What’s the favor, Pat?” Roman decided to spare Patton from having to give a long-winded mix between an explanation and an apology. For this, Patton looked grateful. 

“Could you come home early from break?” Patton skipped to the point. 

Ah yes, Thanksgiving break. The first few days when college kids got a taste for freedom, going home to enjoy their mother’s cooking and ignore the fact final exams would be just around the corner when they came back.

Roman considered it for a moment, pulling the toast out when the toaster beeped at him.

“I know we decided it’s a bad idea to travel with the little guys,” Patton explained, after all he could hardly bring Virgil on a plane, “but I can’t help but worry that something’s gonna happen and it would mean the world to me if you’d check in on them. Both of them.”

“Of course I can, Pat.” Roman said decidedly, slathering jam onto the toast. After all, Patton was not alone in his worry. Roman was also concerned about leaving the tiny people alone. “I’ll just drive out tomorrow and come back on Friday, they’ll hardly be alone a day.” Thomas might be a bit disappointed, but Roman was sure he could come up with some excuse.  

“Oh, thank you!” Patton gave Roman a hug from behind, looking relieved. “I’ll be back sometime Sunday, hopefully.” He squeezed Roman slightly to try and convey how happy Roman’s decision made him. 

Roman turned around and returned the hug, before turning back to his toast and letting Patton return to his studies. 

Now left alone, Roman concentrated on his task at hand. He cut the bread into smaller squares to make it a more manageable size. Satisfied, Roman returned to his bedroom. He walked over to sit at his desk, the familiar feeling of tiny eyes watching his every move.

Roman pulled out his key, going through the motions to open the cage door. Gently grasping the corners of the tiny bread piece between his fingers, he held it out to the miniature figure who always looked at him with so much suspicion.

“Here you go.” Roman said softly, looking hopeful. “I figured you might want a snack.”

Logan approached slowly, uncertain. 

“I know it’s your favorite.” Roman gave him a small smile.

Logan paused. How did Roman know that? Had the human really paid that much attention the few times it had been offered to him during captivity? But if Roman knew this was indeed Logan’s favorite food, why would Logan be rewarded for what a human would most likely classify as ‘bad behavior’?

“Consider it an apology.” Roman explained, holding it a little closer.

An apology for what? Logan didn’t understand this human. Roman was too much of an anomaly for Logan to comprehend.

...nevertheless, Logan took the toast.

…

It was delicious.

[sunflower-swan]

Wolfstar Chapter 10

A/N: Here’s what you need to know: I created this story for Writer’s Month 2020. Every day is a new prompt, and therefore a new chapter. This is an AU Wolfstar where Remus is a tattoo artist next door to Sirius who manages a flower shop. James and Lily are alive in this universe and own a coffee shop across the street. And to make parts of the story work with the prompts, Remus is about 10 years older than Sirius. It also takes place more or less in present time, minus Covid-19.

This is chapter 10 of a multi-chapter work. If you’d like to start from the beginning, here is chapter 1.

Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters. I just like to play with them.

Day 10 Prompt: Bunnies

Rating: Teen and Up

Word Count: 1542

Tags: language, angst, fluff, original character

Chapter 10

Sirius

Panic! At The Disco, “Mad as Rabbits”

Come save me from walking off a windowsill

Or I'll sleep in the rain.

Don't you remember when I was a bird

And you were a map?

Sirius hurt. It felt like there was a hole in his chest where his heart had been. He went with Remus to the Tattoo Lounge because it was better than drinking himself into a pickle at home alone. In truth, he was quite thankful for Remus. The day ended much better than it began, which wasn’t saying much considering how the day started. But Sirius would take any improvement at the moment.

He found he enjoyed watching Remus run his shop. Lily had taken a few messages for him in his absence, so he rang those people first. After that he had a steady stream of customers the rest of the day. Some by appointment and some by walk-in. A few were consultations, and Sirius was impressed by his friend’s compassion and professionalism. In the lull between customers Remus and Sirius would chat, or sometimes they would sit in comfortable silence and Sirius would watch Remus sketch.

One woman had an appointment for her very first tattoo. Sirius remembered being nervous when he got his first ink, but this woman seemed over the moon excited. She brought a friend with her. The friend waited on the leather couch that sat back in the tattooing area of the shop while Remus discussed tattoo plans with the woman. In the end they developed a plan for a half sleeve involving a Mammoth Sunflower, a few common daisy blossoms, and a Monarch butterfly. The sketch Remus created was beyond beautiful. Even though this would be the first of at least three sittings, Sirius was sure the end result would look so realistic, one would expect the butterfly to flap its wings and fly away.

Remus took a break mid-day and explained, “People are looking for more than a tattoo. They’re looking for an experience. The customers I like to work with are looking for a one-of-a-kind piece of art to display on their body. Every piece I do is an extension of myself. And these people walk around the world with it for the rest of their life.”

Wow. Sirius placed his right hand over the rose tattoo. There was not another exactly like it in the whole world. For the first time in many days, he felt a tiny light flicker inside him. A tiny light of hope that told him he would make it through the pain and heartache in which he had been absorbed.

Later on around mid-afternoon, Sirius and Remus were chatting about nothing in particular while Remus cleaned up his equipment from a walk-in. The walk-in had requested a geometric mandala design between his shoulder blades. It wasn’t Sirius’ style, but the man had seemed pleased with it. Then the bell over the door dinged, and in sauntered Logan. Sirius was beside himself, giddy with excitement to watch him interact with Remus. He tried the best he could to blend in with the wall, and watch the show.

When the door opened, Remus looked up from his cleaning. His expression turned to one of surprise to see Logan moving stealthily toward him. Logan didn’t even notice Sirius sitting in the corner. From the moment he walked in, he only had eyes for Remus.

“Hey, Remus,” Logan said.

Remus blushed. “Uh, hey, Logan.” He nervously wiped his hands on his trousers.

“You never called me.” Logan was within arm's distance of Remus now, and he stopped.

“Erm…” Remus scratched the back of his head. “No...I guess I didn’t. No that, um...not that I didn’t want to, but…”

He’s so awkward! Sirius thought to himself. He’d never seen Remus so flustered. It was kind of adorable.

“It’s ok,” Logan said with a chuckle. “I am still interested in a tattoo though.” The corner of his mouth lifted.

“Right! Yeah, of course,” Remus said. “Just uh…” He cleared a space for them to sit, and grabbed his sketchbook and a pencil. “Here, have a seat.”

They took a seat on the leather couch. Sirius was covertly pretending to flip through a magazine in the far corner, and was therefore too far away to make out much of their conversation. But he could see, and that was enough. Logan was so obviously flirty.

He started off on the opposite side of the couch from Remus. But after about fifteen minutes or so, he had slowly worked his way closer to Remus. Then there was the way he kept brushing his hair back. And any excuse to touch Remus: his shoulder, his elbow, his knee...Godric, this guy was a bit much.

Logan was throwing everything he had at Remus, but Remus seemed oblivious. Remus maintained an air of professionalism throughout the entire consultation. Sirius was surprised Logan hadn’t jumped into Remus’ lap by the end. It was about the only thing he hadn’t done to get Remus’ attention. There is such a thing as coming on too strong, but this Logan fella never got that hint.

Finally Logan cleared out, and Remus approached Sirius. “Do you trust me?” he asked. He was holding a sketchbook to his chest, eyebrows raised.

“Yes.” Sirius didn’t need to think twice.

“Come over here.” Remus motioned with his hand and walked toward the chairs. “Pull up your right pant leg, and lay down on your stomach.”

“Excuse me?” Sirius laughed and put his hands on his hips. “What is happening now?”

Remus tapped his foot and repeated himself, “Pull up your right pant leg, and lay down on your stomach.” He gestured toward the padded bench. “You said you trusted me, right?” He tilted his head down with a smirk.

Why do I feel like I might regret this? Sirius asked himself as he did as Remus directed. “I don’t suppose you’re going to tell me what you’ve decided needs to be permanently marked on my body.”

“Nope.”

Brilliant.

A couple silent hours later, Remus announced he was done. “Before you look at it, I want to tell you something.” He came around and crouched down in front of Sirius and looked him dead in the eyes. The intensity Sirius saw there was intimidating, but he did not break eye contact. “What you have gone through, and what you have yet to go through, is really hard. This is just a stumble in your road, it’s not the end of your journey. Haruki Murakami once said, ‘Such wounds to the heart will probably never heal. But we cannot simply sit and stare at our wounds forever.’ I hope this piece can be the beginning of your healing.”

Sirius's mouth had gone dry. The tiny light grew a little brighter. He twisted to look at his calf. Is that a fucking bunny? “Is that a fucking bunny?!” Oops, I said that out loud. “A bunny and a...crescent moon? Why?”

“Calm down, shut up, and listen.”

I’ll shut up and listen, but that doesn’t mean I’ll calm down. Sirius fixed Remus with a stare and tried to convey a hurry-up-before-I-lose-it expression.

“What do you know about rabbit spirit animals?”

“Remus, my animagus is a dog...why would I care about a rabbit spirit animal?”

“A rabbit spirit animal symbolizes a person who has no problem expressing happiness and affection when it comes to people they love. You have so much love in your heart Sirius, that is why it hurts so much right now. Your animagus form may be a dog, but I think that dog’s spirit animal is a rabbit.”

Sirius mulled Remus’ words over in his head. No problem expressing happiness and affection to people I love. It hurts so much, because I love so much? No...because I have so much love to give. I give my love freely. Too freely? No...the people I love deserve my love. But why does it have to hurt so much? Kind of ironic that a dog’s spirit animal would be a rabbit since the two are natural enemies.

“Ok, then what about the crescent moon?” he asked. That bit didn’t really make sense.

“Well,” Remus said, “the rabbit is an animal of the moon. And I thought it looked cool.”

It was a cool design now that he looked more closely. A tribal hare, rearing on it’s back legs. It sort of looked like it was playing with the crescent moon. Why did Remus not quite meet his eyes with that explanation though?

“You can stay here tonight, if you want.” Remus offered, disrupting his thoughts. “I just mean...on your own didn’t pan out so well...you’re always welcome here anytime…” His sentence sort of wandered off after that.

“Um…” Sirius knew he didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts tonight. He had tried being alone the past few days, and look where it landed him. He also didn’t want to be a burden on his best friend. He also remembered with vivid clarity that Remus walks around in his boxers in the morning.

“Let’s at least get a bite from Potter’s,” Remus said, “I’m starving. Then you can decide what you want to do.” Remus swished his wand and his equipment flew back to their respective shelves. He cast a disinfecting Scourgify and turned to Sirius with a smile.

Next Chapter: Chapter 11

[perspective-series]

Vampire Perspective (2/17)

By: @arc852 and @hiddendreamer67

Warnings: talk of death/eating people (that’s gonna be another common one, it’s called vampire perspective what did you expect?), kidnapping, unwanted touching, fear, i dunno

First Chapter || Previous Chapter || Next Chapter

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“Where’d you find this one, anyways?” Virgil asked, growing curious.

“Um, at Thomas’ place.” Patton admitted. “He let me come in for the first time, and then…” Patton put his hands forward slightly, as if to show off the borrower again.

“The building on Maplewood?” Virgil watched Patton confirm with a nod. Virgil smirked, stretching his arm. “I think I’m gonna do a little hunting on my own, then.”

 Roman’s eyes went wider than ever. “No!” His heart beat rapidly inside his chest. He couldn’t let Logan get caught by these things. “I-I mean, you won’t find anyone. I was the only one in that entire building.” Roman lied.

“Uh huh.” Virgil looked unconvinced. “Is that why you’re ‘thriving’?”

 “Um..y-yes?” Roman said, not knowing what else to say. He could tell his lie wasn’t working though. Oh, he hoped that Logan stayed inside the walls.

“Virgil, please don’t.” Patton pleaded, feeling terrible even if he knew it was the circle of life. Patton was just very bad at being a part of it.

“Oh come on, it’s not as though they don’t have a chance.” Virgil argued. “I doubt your human friend would be generous enough to let me in. I’ll just scope the perimeter out and if I don’t see an easy target I’ll take a human one instead.”

“Virgil…” Patton spoke in a warning tone, giving his friend a stern look.

“Non-fatal human.” Virgil rolled his eyes. Patton was always so picky, even if Virgil hadn’t messed up in decades.

 “Well, you’re just wasting your time! You’re not going to find anyone!” At least, Roman hoped not.

Virgil didn’t even bother deigning the borrower with a response. With a puff of smoke the vampire vanished, the only sign he had been there at all was a little black bat fluttering out the window.

“Be careful!” Patton called after him, despite everything.

 “...Did he just turn into a bat?” Roman asked, watching as the bat disappeared from sight in the dark sky.

“Oh! Uh, yeah, that’s one of our abilities.” Patton explained. “Well, one of his at least.”

 “R-Right.” He thinks he remembered hearing something like that. Hesitating for a moment, Roman started pushing against the hand again but not as hard as before, knowing it didn’t matter anyway. Didn’t mean he wasn’t panicking any less though.

Patton sighed, his heart breaking at the weak attempts to escape. “I know you probably don’t want to hear it right now, but… I really am sorry about this.”

 Roman felt a chill run down his spine and he turned to face the vampire. The dull red eyes, though not quite as frightening as Virgil’s, were still more then enough to make him tremble. “P-Please, please don’t…” 

Patton’s eyes widened. “Oh, no no no!” Patton winced, realizing he should have reassured the poor borrower sooner. He could hear and feel just how fast that miniature heart was rapidly pumping away, a sure sign of the little one’s terror.

“No, I’m sorry, please don’t be scared.” Patton pleaded. “I’m not going to eat you, I promise.”

 “H-How do you expect me to believe you! You’re a vampire!” Roman shouted more out of fear then the anger he was trying to convey. “And-And it’s not like I didn’t hear you tell the other one that you were planning to.”

Patton flinched at the harsh tone, knowing the borrower was just lashing out. “I only said that so Virgil would leave you alone, honest! I can’t even stomach the thought of drinking from humans half the time. I could never kill somebody, no matter the smell of their blood.”

 Roman bit his lip, a little bit of hope rising inside of him. “If you’re telling the truth...then does that mean you are going to let me go?” Does that mean he could go home, grab Logan, and move the heck away from that apartment?

“I… I can’t.” Patton sighed, having considered this himself. 

 “W-What?” And just like that, Roman’s hopes were dashed. “Why not!”

“You heard Virgil.” Patton’s shoulders crept up to his ears, feeling guilty despite knowing he was right. “If I let you go, he’s just gonna get his hands on you instead, and even if Virgil’s...” Patton shook his head, not even sure what had gotten into his best friend. “I’m not letting you get hurt.”

 Even if Patton was telling the truth, he wasn’t at all comfortable with staying with a vampire. The fact he kept bringing up how he smelled was putting him on edge. “So then...so then what are you going to do?” He pushed against the fingers again, hoping one of the things the vampire would do would be to put him down.

“...that’s a very good question.” Patton murmured, having not thought this far ahead. Honestly, even just holding the borrower made it hard to think clearly, his instincts always right near the surface. He shook his head, trying to distract himself as he walked further into the house. “Um, I guess we could set up a place for you to stay? I need to get something to eat too, actually. Wait, sorry, not used to living people here, I’m gonna have to find you some food… what do you eat?”

 “Um...normal stuff?” Roman said, looking around the house as they moved. It certainly gave off a vampire vibe. “H-Human food?”

“Okay, coolios, that- that’s good!” Patton tried to look on the bright side. “Thomas goes out with me all the time, I can just get the food to go for you instead of eating it myself.” 

 “O-Okay?” Roman wasn’t sure if he should eat any food he was given. What if they were just trying to fatten him up? Make his blood even tastier? Should he risk starving so he wouldn’t be eaten? It was a slow death versus a fairly quick one but Roman was still inclined to take the former in this instance.

“And, I guess you can stay in my room…” Patton murmured, pushing open the door. He tried not to think what Virgil would say if (or more likely, when) he found out Patton decided to harbor the borrower instead of drinking his blood.

 Roman looked around the room. Unlike the rest of the house, it felt much less dreary. But still kind of off. Almost like it was trying to hard to create a cheerful atmosphere. “Er...where?” He hoped he wouldn’t be trapped. If he was, it would be a lot harder to try and escape.

“Good question again.” Patton chuckled, beginning to scope out his room for any potential containers. After all, it’d be even worse if the borrower just got loose in the house. 

Patton paused, looking down at the borrower in hand. “...hang on a moment.”

 Roman blinked. “Wh-What?” He really did hate looking at these vampires in the eyes.

“I just realized I didn’t ask you your name!” Patton gasped. “I’m so sorry. I’m Patton, what’s your name, kiddo?”

 Kiddo? Well, he supposed that nickname made sense. Patton was probably way older than him. “Er, Roman. My name is Roman.” What was the point in learning your meal’s name though? Was Patton simply trying to trick him?

“It’s nice to- er, nevermind.” Patton let that greeting trail off, knowing Roman likely didn’t agree. His eyes scanned the room, spotting a small chest from a century ago...was it that old? Or older? Patton couldn’t remember. But it was certainly roomy, easily locked, yet far from airtight.

“Oh, perfect!” Patton’s eyes lit up. He set Roman down briefly on his bureau, in favor of using both his hands to dig out the various memorabilia already inside the chest. Being immortal meant collecting a lot of… well, admittedly junk throughout the years.

 Roman blinked. Watching as Patton seemed to be looking through a chest. He was about to ask what he was looking for, when he realized that Patton was distracted. It might be a stupid move to try and escape but Roman couldn’t just not try at all. So, he quickly made his way to the edge and started to scale down.

Patton blinked, noticing movement out of the corner of his eye. That, and it was certainly hard for Patton to not sense the borrower moving, considering every aspect of his vampire side was focused intently on Roman’s existence.

“Roman…” Patton gave a sad sigh, not bothering to give chase as he continued to empty out the chest. He knew it would be simple enough to catch the borrower again considering Patton had an unfair advantage. “Please don’t.”

 Roman ignored Patton and only climbed down faster as he knew he had been spotted. But Patton had yet to move, which meant he had a chance, right? As his feet hit the ground, he couldn’t help but feel another wave of hope rise in him. He glanced once more at Patton before taking off running.

Patton lunged, his fingers easily squeezing around Roman’s tiny form.

 “Ah!” Roman yelled, once again finding himself struggling in the vampire’s grip. Patton had been so fast. He had forgotten how fast he could be. “Release me you vile creature of the night!”

“Hey!” Patton frowned, lifting the borrower higher to glare at him. “There’s no need for name calling.”

 Roman felt himself freeze at the glare the vampire gave him but he forced himself to ignore it. “I think there is. Especially if it’s true!” It really was a bad idea to make a vampire mad but he was going to die one way or another anyway. Might as well get in a few hits.

“No it’s not!” Patton insisted. “I’m not a- a vile creature. I’m a perfectly pleasant creature.”

 “Really? I have yet to see any pleasantness. In fact, I would call planning to keep and eat someone the exact opposite of pleasant.” Roman growled, trying his hardest to kick his legs against the grip. However, he could barely budge them as they were held firmly within the hand.

“I already told you, I’m not doing that.” Patton’s gaze softened. “I know I can be...scary, but you’re safe here. I promise.”

 “Well I don’t feel very safe.” Especially not with Patton’s hand wrapped around him tightly. It didn’t hurt, thankfully but it was still uncomfortable. Not to mention, he still didn’t believe Patton’s claims.

“Okay, fair enough.” Patton sighed. He supposed it would take some time for Roman to get used to this. He grabbed a spare blanket, lining the bottom of the chest. Satisfied, Patton set Roman down in the center. “Alright, I need to go, er, hunting. Just- stay here, okay?”

 Roman blinked, looking around where he had been put. “Wait-no! You can’t leave me in here!” What even was this? Wait, was this the chest Patton had been looking through?

“I promise I’ll be back soon.” Patton grabbed the top of the chest, slamming it shut and locking it for good measure.

 Roman jumped as the top was closed with a heavy thud and he was masked in darkness. He spent several minutes looking for a way out but the chest was sturdy. He was trapped.

 He let out a long and suffering sigh as he slid down against the wall, head in his hands. What was he going to do?

[love-carries-on]

Love Carries On: Chapter VI

Virgil woke up, and immediately jumped up; today was the day, Logan’ birthday. five months of hard work, five months of life changing progress and now today was the day that Logan should get to relax. Virgil sat up out of bed and scrambled around until he found his hoodie, a gift from Roman. He pulled it on, his perpetually cold body reassured in the added protection of the jacket. He pushed his hair out of his face before heading out into the living room.

The living room was entirely empty, which was to be expected. His boyfriends always liked to go really big on celebrations, birthdays, holidays, any chance they got to be extra they’d take. Logan had presumably been kicked out of the house until the party and the rest of them were probably in the kitchen preparing something akin to a feast.

Virgil smiled to himself as he walked into the kitchen to find Roman and Patton in matching flowered aprons. Patton was furiously stirring some type of batter, while Roman was building layers of something in a pan. Diego was nowhere to be found. He walked up to Roman and tapped him sharply on the shoulder, he received on finger held up to him, give me a sec.

After a few minutes of working and arranging, Roman turned around. What’s up Virge? He leaned forward, raising his eyebrow in a questioning way.

Where’s D? Virgil responded in likewise, his own question granting an eyebrow raise.

We sent him to the store so that he could get decorations and candles. He shrugged at the end of the statement, his eyebrows relaxing as he switched out of the question asking zone.

By himself? It was less a question and more an anxious and panicked statement.

No! Logan went with, as did Stella. Roman was surprisingly nonchalant, and his eyes were already wandering back to the pan full of food. He just wanted to cook with Patton and not be bothered by all these questions about where and who.

Virgil rolled his eyes before walking away. He couldn’t do anything right now, Logan and Diego were already gone, and he wasn’t a very good cook, or at least not Roman and Patton’s level. A brief thought of him helping Logan and D set up decorations shot through his mind and he nodded to himself in agreement. Seeing as there wasn’t much else to do, he settled himself on the couch and put on a documentary.

As much as he poked fun at Logan for liking documentaries, he liked them a lot as well, it didn’t require him to use his imagination and to understand what type of tone the narrator, or in the case of a lot of movies, character, might be using because they were just relaying factual information. It was comforting to read the subtitles and feel like he understood exactly what was going on.

Today’s documentary was on World War One, it seemed to be centered around one specific battle, but Virgil was just sort of watching the pictures on screen and halfway reading the words. It was comforting, to hang out and not have to do anything just yet. The black and white photography was just boring enough for his brain to focus on other things. He found himself pondering who’s car the boys had taken, what Roman was making, what Patton was making, how Stella was doing. His mind just drifted around, and it was comforting to drift, nothing to focus on, just allowing his mind to think and know things.

He spent what felt like hours doing that, but it was barely half an hour before the door opened and Logan and Diego came in. He didn’t hear the door of course, but he did feel the tap on the shoulder from Logan and he turned around to see them both standing there, bags in their hands.

“Want to help decorate?” Diego spoke slowly, allowing Virgil to read his lips.

Yes. He signed it, a quick knocking movement, before getting up off of the couch to help them put things away.

They set the bags on the table, and inside Virgil found an assortment of party goods, hats, banners and streamers, candles, a few bags for gift wrapping (which Virgil needed because he’d been hiding Logan’s present for months and now he needed a bag to put it in). He was impressed that they had managed to remember all of this, of course since Logan went along, it shouldn’t have surprised him at all.

He shot Diego a quick few signs, asking him if there was a plan. And when Diego explained to him that there wasn’t a plan, he was almost delighted. Virgil had been told almost all of his life that he had an eye for design, and even if that was something of a hidden talent, he thoroughly enjoyed designing things. He grabbed the streamers, (blue and silver) and started to layout in his head where he wanted everything to go. He dug around in the bag until he found a roll of tape. He grabbed a chair from the table and climbed up on it.

Then he paused, suddenly remembering the banner that said ‘Happy Birthday’ on it. He snapped to get Diego’s attention, pointing at the banner on the table, and wordlessly, he handed it to him. Virgil took a step back and looked at the arch, careful not to fall off of the chair, trying to figure out where the banner would have to go to be centered. He nodded his head unconsciously before turning back and snapping again. Diego looked up, and he signed for him to get Logan’s attention.

Logan was the tallest of his boyfriends, and he needed him to hold the banner while he ripped the tape to hold it in place. After Diego explained to him what Virgil needed, Logan came over to stand by him. Virgil guided his hand to where he needed it to be, before letting go so that he could tear the tape. He tore several smaller pieces, so that he could stabilize it, before pulling a long piece to put over the rest. Then, he pulled on the shoulder of Logan’s button up, trying to get him to move around to the other side. After a few seconds of being yanked on, he understood what he wanted, and after accidentally running into the chair that Virgil was standing on, he eventually made his way over to the other side. Once again, Virgil guided his hand into position before taping the other side of the banner in place.

As soon as he was done, he patted Logan on the head in thanks, and grabbed the roll of streamers off of the table. The blue roll was the one he had originally had in his hand, and now that the banner was up, he could see it that much clearer. He ripped off a piece of tape, and stuck just a little bit of it to the wall where he wanted the streamer to be. Then, he placed the streamer, before smoothing the tape over it.

Virgil turned around where he was, reaching out to grab the scissors off of the table as well. He cut the streamer and then stuck them into his pocket so that he’d have them on hand. He stuck the other end of the streamer centered in the middle of the banner. Then, he put the blue streamers in his other pocket to replicate the design with the silver streamers.

It didn’t take long for him to have every archway leading into the dining room decorated with streamers. Some of them were branched across the archway, while others hung down in colorful representations of celebration. He got down off of the chair, and turned it back to face the table, as he finished the archway leading into the kitchen. Then, he pushed it back, before turning away so that he could set all of the things out of his pocket on the buffet table in the corner.

He smiled, satisfied with himself, before going back over to the table and putting on one of the party hats. There were several of them, in a variety of colors, and he was glad to see a dark blue one, which was close enough to his favorite color, purple. He settled it on his head, wincing slightly when the elastic band snapped his chin. He took the empty bags off of the table, and put them in the bag bag.

Diego snuck up behind him, and grabbed (not surprisingly) the yellow party hat. Then, he tapped Virgil on the shoulder.

It looks so cool in here! He smiled brightly, his eyes wide and almost amazed looking.

Thank you. He smiled just as brightly, before sitting down at the table to rest. Are Roman and Patton almost done? It was more of a curious question than a pointed one, and he tried hard to convey that by keeping his expression more surprised like rather than questioning.

Patton is waiting for the cake to cool so that he can put the icing on it.

Nice, what flavor? He knew that Logan didn’t like overly sweet flavors.

Marbled perhaps? I didn’t get a good look at it. He shrugged at the end of the statement, sitting down next to Virgil.

Eventually they were joined by Logan, who after having a conversation that Virgil couldn’t quite keep up with, was handed the silver party hat. He settled it on his own head, before leaning back in his chair and presumably turning his attention to Stella on the floor.

Meanwhile, Patton was adding the finishing touches to Logan’s cake. He had made a lemon cake, allowing for the frosting to be more icing like than anything, and it was decorated with candied lemon slices and pretty yellow flowers. He had written ‘Happy Birthday Logan’ in flowing Silver writing to finish it off. It was one of the only times his handwriting would ever look good.

Roman on the other hand, was just putting the finishing touches on his vegetarian lasagna. He sprinkled the cheese on top of it, before popping it back in the oven. He was very proud of this recipe, a mixture of mushrooms and black beans to create something akin to a meat texture (despite his other boyfriends’ embrace of the vegetarian life, he still indulged in meat every so often). As the cheese was melting, he stirred a little bit of ranch into the mashed potatoes, adding a little more creaminess to the dish. He also reached out to stir the pot of corn so that it wouldn’t burn.

Soon, the cheese had melted, and with a little bit of help from Diego, they carried all of the food out to the table. The festivities were in full swing, they all talked and laughed over dinner; they told stories about Logan, poking fun at him, reminding them all of his greatest days. It was exactly what a great birthday should be.

While they were chatting, Roman had dished up dinner, and now that it was on everyone’s plate, they all quieted down so they could eat. Patton took a bite of the lasagna and immediately his stomach turned, it was slimy, some of the filling was, the texture of what he could only guess was beans and maybe even mushrooms. His heart lurched, he had to forcibly grab the edge of the table to actually swallow down the bite had taken. He caught Virgil’s eye with a pleading look.

Virgil watched as Patton set his fork down and looked down at the ground, he had grabbed the table very tightly, before shooting him a pleading look. Virgil knocked on the table to get Roman’s attention. Ask Pat what’s wrong. His look was just as pleading.

“Pat, are you okay?” He turned to him, to see him hunched slightly over his plate, his knuckles white as he gripped the table.

“I’m fine.” He choked on his words, his gag reflex involuntarily reacting to what he had eaten. His mind was racing with the feeling the texture left behind, his mind blooming with all of the things the texture reminded him of, mud and snails and raw meat.

“Are you sure? You can tell me if something is wrong Patton.” Roman kept his voice as quiet as he could, maybe all the noise had upset him, or something had been said that startled him.

He started to cry as his mind almost hyper fixated on the taste in his mouth and the texture it represented and all the things that texture represented, his mind ran circles around it as tears streamed down his face. Not quiet, unfocused crying, but audible sobs and whimpers.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, I’m fine.” He murmured over and over again, pushing the plate away from him in an actual show of what was wrong.

Roman felt a flame of something like anger, and he didn’t know why, but he was mad at Patton. He had worked so hard, had done everything he was supposed to, didn’t use meat because Virgil was vegetarian, didn’t make anything overly sweet because Logan didn’t like sweet, didn’t make any of the dishes that Diego had specified so he wouldn’t cause a switch in him, he had done everything and now this.

“Well if you don’t like it Patton you can just not eat it.” Something that could be said with a warm and caring tone, something that should be said with a warm and caring tone, was full of malice and bitterness. “I worked hard to make something good and if you don’t like it I’m sorry.” He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing in anger as he sat back down. Stupid Patton, why can’t you just like it, there’s nothing wrong with my cooking, you’re overreacting. It wasn’t that bad I tried it too, no one else seems bothered by it.

It reminded Patton of when his mother would get mad at him and send him to his room. And in his mind's eye, it was one and the same, Roman was his mother, hissing cruelly at him in french and sending him to his room for causing a problem at the dinner table. Despite the fact that Roman hadn't said it, he could still hear 'go away, go to your room.' in his voice. He got up, and fled from the table, moving as quick as he could without running, tears still streaming from his eyes

[sides-of-demigods]

The Ones You Can't See

Word Count: 1,874

Warning(s): Trigger Warnings so far: PTSD, panic attacks, abandonment, blood, self-harm, anxiety, self-deprecation, depression, light cursing, trigger

Author's Note: I experimented a bit with style with this one, for example I change perspective often and quickly. In case that's hard to follow each point of view change has a couple of these guys ~~~~ that will be a specific color. Red just before Roman's POV and purple before Virgil's. Title from NVM by Faith Marie.

~~~~~~~~~~

Roman was scared. Terrified, actually.

He tore out of the Big House, barely a destination in his mind. There was a couple new campers and one asked them each what it felt like when they were claimed. Gods, Roman hadn't even THOUGHT about Virgil. Of course something like that would trigger him. Ugh, how could he be so stupid. He just milled around the living room and didn't even realize Virgil had disappeared until afterward. Some boyfriend (Were they boyfriend?) he was.

Being claimed had always been a big trigger for Virgil, even to this day. He'd gotten better, at least in Roman's opinion, but it wasn't something he could just get over. Virgil was only twelve when he was claimed and he saw all of the people he was starting to think of as family look at him with pure horror and disgust. He lost nearly all the friends he had made and was told by basically the entire camp that he was destined to be evil, just like his dad. As ashamed as he was of it, Roman had been a large contributor to that.

Now though, the Camp was a lot more accepting and people, Roman included, came around to the boy with the purple hair. That kind of thing happening to you at such a young age and while you were particularly vulnerable...well it leaves a lasting scar. Logan had even compared it to PTSD once. And Roman could definitely see the similarities. He didn't want Virgil to be alone through this, especially since that's exactly what hurt him before and caused this. That was the last thing he needed.

Thankfully, Roman had a pretty good idea of where he went.

~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil was scared. Terrified, really.

It felt like the walls were closing in on him, which made no sense considering he was outside. Everything felt off, like something was wrong with the world itself. It felt hostile and cold and unforgiving. So Virgil ran. He ran from the Big House, he ran away from that kid, he tried to run away from the fear, tried to run away from the memories. Instead they bombarded him on all sides, no matter how hard or fast his feet hit the ground or how many people he bumped into.

Every person he passed could feel it too, if only for a moment. His anxiety was consuming him, causing his power to leech off him in waves. People would feel chills down their spine or like someone was watching them, and pure unaltered fear if Virgil actually touched them. He had to get himself under control.

His feet carried him through the camp, his eyes not even processing what he was seeing. He had no control over where his feet were carrying him until he fell to his knees with a thump. He wrapped his arms around himself and dug his fingers into his biceps, desperate for something, anything, to ground him. One hand ended up in his hair and gripped hard, but he could barely feel it.

Virgil just wanted it to stop.

~~~~~~~~~~

Roman was surprised, but relieved.

He had guesses Virgil would be at the beach, but was still so so glad that his guess had been correct. He recognized the spot easily. One night, Patton declared that the four of them needed to spend time together as a group, considering it usually ended up being pairs. Training was done with one or two cabins at an activity at a time and at meals and the campfire you had to sit with your cabin mates. So Patton managed to persuade Thomas into letting the four sneak off to the beach and have a picnic by the waves. Patton had picked a secluded spot that was usually a little too close to the woods for campers to hang out there, but the four were confident that if anything happened they could handle it.

This was years ago, yet Roman knew all of them regarded it as one of their fondest memories. Not just with each other, but ever. In that moment Logan and Roman were bickering entirely goodnaturedly, smiling the entire time. Patton was telling jokes left and right that caused even Logan to crack a smile. Roman and Virgil weren't fighting at all, and Virgil actually actively participated in conversation with them, which was a feat back then. So he wasn't surprised that this would be where Virgil would run to. A place where he felt safe, warm, loved, not alone.

He saw the boy kneeling in the sand, hand in his hair, and Roman's air left him all at once like a punch to the gut. It hurt to see him like that. He knew it was going to be bad, but seeing Virgil curled in on himself, desperate, practically rocking back and forth, it just broke Roman's heart. Before he knew it he was kneeling next to Virgil in the sand, trying to figure out if he should touch him or if that would make it worse. He glanced at Virgil's hand where it was clenching his bicep.

He threw caution to the wind when he saw the blood.

~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil was surprised, but relieved.

He heard frantic footsteps behind him but could barely register them over the rush of blood in his ears and the crashing of the waves. His brain was just stuck on a constant loop no matter how hard he tugged his hair or squeezed his fist. He didn't even realize his finger nails broke the skin until he felt the warm wetness of blood on his fingers. It wasn't a lot, so Virgil couldn't bring himself to worry about it at the moment.

Suddenly he felt strong, callused, and familiar hands rip his away from his body and his head whipped up in shock. There his eyes met the wide green eyes that were mirroring his own fear, but the kind of fear that comes with concern. Roman. He'd followed him. Honestly, Virgil hadn't expected him to. He knew that he could be frustrating if not down right infuriating during his panic attacks, and at this point figured the others would just leave him to work through them on his own. But he was so so glad Roman found him. He really didn't think he could be alone right now.

His breath caught in his throat, still reeling from Roman so abruptly seizing his hands. Usually, Virgil would be scolding him or freaking out but seeing the full out panic in Roman's expression, the full realization of what exactly he had been doing crashed down on him.

He'd struggled with self-harm for a long time, both intentional and unintentional. But with the others help he had been getting better. Hell, he'd been clean going on four months now. Well, not anymore. He'd just set back all the progress he'd made the last few years. At least, that's what he was telling himself. Roman squeezed his hands as the two just looked at each other, both breathing heavily for different reasons.

Then came the tears.

~~~~~~~~~~

Roman felt powerless.

As he seized hands, he cursed himself for taking so long to follow him. If he had just been faster, noticed Virgil was gone sooner, realized the question would trigger him. If he had done anything more to help Virgil avoid this, maybe it wouldn't have gotten this bad, maybe Virgil wouldn't have spiraled so deep. No, he couldn't focus on his mistakes, now he had to be with Virgil. He had to help him. He looked in Virgil's eyes, seeing nothing but fear and pain and shame staring back at him and almost started crying himself. He settled for squeezing the other boy's hands, trying to pull him from the daze he seemed to be in, just staring at Roman as if he didn't fully comprehend he was there. And then the tears started.

Out of nowhere Virgil just broke. It wasn't gradual or slow it just burst out of him like a broken dam. Tears fell down his face faster than the waves could move, followed by horrible, gut-wrenching sobs tearing themselves out of his throat. He slumped forward, practically folded in half and Roman pulled him towards him.

Virgil buried his face in Roman's t-shirt as the son of Apollo wrapped his arms around him, clutching him close. He didn't say anything, neither of them had, but he hoped against all hope that he was conveying reassuring, promising Virgil that he was here, that he wasn't going anywhere, that he was sorry for ever letting Virgil think otherwise. Soon, Roman had his nose in Virgil's hair, breathing him in as tears silently fell from his eyes.

He didn't plan on letting go anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil felt powerless.

Something in him finally caved as he fell forward, was pulled into Roman's chest. His hands free, they found purchase in the fluorescent orange camp shirt, holding on for dear life. At the moment, it felt like Roman's arms around him were the only thing keeping him afloat, like a rock Virgil clung to to keep from being washed out to sea. He was drowning in the storm, everything coming at him from all sides with no time to recover, Roman his only purchase, his only shield.

He found himself mumbling a bunch of things resembling apologies, his words slurring together and barely forming sentence fragments. What he was apologizing for Virgil wasn't entirely sure. For his weakness? For relapsing? For letting them down? For not being better yet? He didn't even know anymore, the words just spilled out of him, completely without his control.

He was tempted to just force it all down, to tamp it out and pretend it never existed. But he knew that wasn't healthy, and he was just tired. So he didn't stop and let himself feel. Let himself feel the pain and the loneliness and the fear, until he worried he'd have nothing left to feel. His hands slowly loosened their grip on Roman's shirt as his sobs began to subside. Eventually they stopped altogether. He closed his eyes and leaned against Roman, not quite bringing himself to bring away. The son of Apollo smelled comforting, like the generic camp soap, the sea air, and something distinctly Roman, almost like Roman. He felt safe and warm, and if Roman was any indication, the other boy didn't want to let go yet either.

He didn't plan to let go anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

Roman felt grateful.

He felt Virgil fall against him and simply adjusted his grip, holding the other against him. He knew that it wasn't this simple, that Virgil was suddenly okay. He'd be tired and probably dehydrated and he'd still be dealing with this for a while. Patton and Logan were probably starting to get worried, and would be looking for them if they didn't get back soon. But for now Roman was content to simply stay on their little secluded beach, wrapped up in each other and listening to the sea.

He didn't plan to let go anytime soon.

~~~~~~~~~~

"Roman?"

~~~~~~~~~~

"Hm?"

~~~~~~~~~~

"Thank you."

~~~~~~~~~~

"Anything for you, Virgil. Anything."

[starstruck-xavier]

Fight Or Flight, Am I Right?

chapter two

ao3 || wattpad || fanfiction masterpost || main masterpost || chapter one

words: 1605 (total fic has 5122) ships: lamp (interpret it however you want) warnings: injuries

summary: When Virgil is feeling down, a dangerous, painful manticore-chimera fight turns out to be exactly what he needs.

a/n: i’m updating my fic posts so they all have the same format, so chapter two of one of my old fics is now its own post! and here it is-

“Good morning, Virge!” Patton chirruped as Virgil shuffled into the kitchen roughly 10 hours later. The fatherly trait donned his cat hoodie instead of the regular blue polo; Virgil pondered over whether today would be a much more relaxed day than normal. As for himself, he was still wearing his sweatpants and lilac t-shirt; its sleeves nearly swallowed his elbows and the bottom hem hung just above his knees, but it was comfortable, so the anxious trait didn’t mind its size. The pain was still burning mainly in his abdomen, arms and legs, but not quite as bad as last night, so he clambered onto the countertop by the fridge, wincing just a little. Normally, Patton would encourage him to sit somewhere else while he prepared food, but he let him have this today. Just this once.

The paternal trait came to retrieve something from the fridge, taking the opportunity to check on Virgil. “How are you feeling, kiddo? Can I check your bruises?” Virgil nodded, shrinking into himself self-consciously for a moment before straightening up to allow Patton to look. He didn’t particularly want to see the damage on his own body, instead turning to fixate on the reflection of the light on the fridge as Patton lifted up his t-shirt and felt around the hurting areas. Occasionally Virgil would lightly hiss at the touch, and the father figment would ramble his apologies, looking just slightly squeamish as he ensured that there were no serious injuries that had been missed when they were all tending to his unconscious self. Eventually, Patton let the shirt fall over Virgil’s body again, moving onto his hands and confirming that they were healing up nicely. Then, he looked for any bruising on his upper arms and shoulders (perhaps this was just him reassuring himself).

As he finished his drawn-out checkup, Logan and Roman entered the kitchen. Roman still wore his comfortable clothes, too. Even Logan was wearing something different this morning - a dark blue long-sleeve covered with doodles of planets and astronauts, complimenting his plain black pyjama pants. Today was definitely going to be relaxed. While Logan began to assist Patton in food preparation, Roman joined Virgil on the countertop.

“How’s the damage, Hot Topic?” Roman felt the medical patch on his shoulder with his left hand, frowning a little despite the usual energy he had tried to convey in his voice.

Virgil shrugged as best he could without feeling a spike of pain. “I haven’t really looked, but I feel bruised. I can only guess from my memory of what happened.” He glanced at the prince’s downcast expression. “How’s your shoulder?”

“Well, Logan said that the snake bite hit muscle but not bone, so it’s not as bad as it could be. It’s a good thing I’m ambidextrous though.” The sight of Roman looking so sombre broke Virgil’s heart just a little bit.

“Do you wanna play video games later? Your choice.” He nervously placed his bandaged hand on Roman’s uninjured shoulder, a comfort offering. The prince nodded, leaning into Virgil’s touch. They stayed on the counter, watching Logan and Patton at work until breakfast was ready for everybody.

Now sat in a chair after hopping off the countertop, Virgil picked at the meal, holding his fork as best he could.

“I think that we should all talk to Thomas today and update him on the situation.” Logan announced, watching everybody for a sign of protest, but received none, so he continued. “We’re not yet sure if he’s experiencing any second-hand effects.”

“He won’t have a creative block, will he, specs?” Roman glanced nervously around, switching his cutlery between his two hands.

“I doubt it, Roman. However, sometimes taking a break from brainstorming can yield even better ideas in the future. Despite the circumstances, this is a good opportunity to recharge, if you will, to prevent burnout.”

Roman looked a little more comforted. Light conversation ensued, travelling away from the looming situation back to how breakfast usually went. Bad jokes, laughs and groans filled the air. The two injured sides forgot about their miseries as they all discussed plans for the day and refuelled their bodies.

They all gradually dispersed after eating, Virgil being the last to finish as he tried not to cramp his bruised hands by holding the utensils. Roman waited for him nevertheless, his left hand returning to his right shoulder.

“You look sad, Roman.” Virgil turned to face him, reaching out to tap his hands on Roman’s left arm to stop him from picking at the patch. “If it’s hurting, I can get, like, a heat patch for you. I have some in my room.”

“Yeah?” Roman smiled gratefully, still with a hint of sadness in his eyes. “That’d be nice. That time I was wounded in my side, I learned how draining having that pain can be. But, while my injuries this time around aren’t that bad, I still feel just as bad because I let you get hurt too.”

“It’s okay, Ro. When Thomas was feeling so down yesterday, it was likely getting to me because it had been a while since I had that adrenaline rush. Besides, I could’ve stayed out and summoned the others instead, but I went in because my instinct was to keep you safe. Like I said last night, I can deal with some muscle pain. I have to, sometimes.”

“You have to?” The two got up from their chairs and made their way through the house.

“Yeah. You may not expect me to enjoy adrenaline, but if I can’t exercise my fight-or-flight instincts for a while I start to feel tired or lethargic. Then I end up not being prepared when something external makes Thomas panic. I was reluctant to join you at first yesterday because I didn’t know if I had the energy for it, and usually, I’d just do something like getting Thomas to watch a scary movie to give me a little more power for a while, but that fight I had really helped to restore my energy. Really, once my muscles feel fine again I’m gonna feel so much better at my job. You helped me out, Princey.” The anxious trait noticed how Roman’s face brightened and couldn’t help grinning.

He led Roman to the purple door with his signature stormcloud printed onto it, then rummaged through his drawers for the heat patches. He grabbed a few for himself before peeling off the back cover of one, fumbling through his thinly bandaged hands. During this time, the prince sat on Virgil’s unmade bed and watched him prepare the patch. “I’ll stick it onto your t-shirt, it’s not recommended directly on the skin.” The anxious trait crouched in front of Roman and touched his shoulder with great care, applying it onto the fabric which covered the patch. “The heat will last for about eight hours, but if it gets too hot you can just peel it off, yeah?”

“Yeah.” Roman nodded, looking brighter than before. “Thank you, Virge.”

Virgil straightened up again with a nod, quickly pulled a black long-sleeve from a different drawer and put it on underneath his t-shirt, which was easy to do without taking it off due to the size of it, then began to apply his own patches in between the two layers. He stuck one to each side of his ribs before gathering the plastic packaging and depositing it into a wastebasket. The heat helped both of them, providing comfort to Roman’s shoulder and relief to Virgil’s sides.

The feeling of being summoned suddenly tugged at both of them. “That’ll be Logan and Patton.” Roman grinned. “I’ll see you there, stormcloud.”

—

Roman rose up in front of the television and Virgil appeared by the staircase, both at the same time.

“Hey, guys!” Thomas excitedly looked around. “I’m so glad you two are safe! Logan and Patton have just brought me up to speed.”

“Greetings, Thomas!” Roman instantly adapted his royal persona, only slightly hindered by his injury. “It is great to be back.”

“Hey, Thomas.” Virgil said, suddenly feeling a little nervous. “Are you… physically okay?”

“Yeah, I’m not feeling pain or anything, although I did feel very panicky, I assume when you were in that fight.”

A pang of guilt was felt in Virgil’s heart. “O— oh, I’m sorry, Thomas, I didn’t realise—“

“No, no, it’s okay, Virge. I called some friends and was able to take care of it. I could tell from the feeling that you were in trouble and you couldn’t control it. I’m just happy you’re okay. Or, at least, safe. Are you okay, Virgil?” Thomas glanced at the anxious side, noticing how he wrapped his arms around his abdomen.

He hummed uncertainly. “I’m in a lot of pain, but I’ve experienced it before.” Upon curious looks from everybody except Roman, he recounted what he was saying to the prince before. As he finished, Logan seemed to think for a moment.

“Perhaps, in the future, we should work with Roman in the imagination to make an area in which Virgil can exercise his fight-or-flight without running the risk of injury.”

“That’s a great idea, Logan!” Patton exclaimed, looking towards Roman to see what he thought. “Do you think you can do that, Roman?”

“Yes,” Roman pondered, already thinking of ideas. “I think that would be fantastic! Virgil and I can construct a safe zone within the imagination. How do you feel about that, stormcloud?”

Virgil nodded, feeling a little better. “Yeah, let’s do that once we’re both fully healed.”

“And after I’ve beaten you at every video game in existence.”

“Sure, Sir Sing-A-Lot.”

[ridethedarktrail]

Here I thought we had a good thing going, in a brand new notebook. We were all in agreement where this was headed. Everyone was doing their part... until they ran the story off the road. What is an author to do when the characters turn on her? Out them on tumblr of course. 

Smut behind the cut. 

Slamming into her, he knew he’d regret it later but right now he was so high on adrenaline and her endorphins he couldn’t help himself. He gripped her hips in a bruising hold, feeling the start of her convulsions as she worked her clit. She pushed away from the low wall she was using for support and glanced back over her shoulder at him. Moving his hand up her spine and along her neck, he forced her to watch him.

“Oh god,” she moaned and he leaned in swallowing her scream.

Wolverine knew he was addicted to this, to her and no matter how badly it ended he wouldn’t willing give her up. Another shallow thrust and she bit his lip, her hand moved between her thighs until his balls rubbed against her fingertips. He growled, but she wouldn’t release his lip or allow him to push her feet apart to go deeper. Rogue was in control and he filled her with his hot seed.

Moments later they were straightening their uniforms, no time for anything else. Pausing, she tugged at his mask correcting it. She left her hand at his sideburn for a moment, a spark of mischief in her eyes as he placed his hand over hers. Moving, she pressed her fingers to his mouth before he could say her name. There was so much he wanted to tell her.  

Her earpiece crackled and she tilted her head. “Be there in a minute,” she responded and tapped his earpiece. “Later tater,” she said with a laugh as she trotted off into the distance.

“Yeah, yeah, I got it,” he growled at Cyke. He’d heard most of it from Rogue’s earpiece. The battle had been mostly over when he’d run into her, now he had to track down a sneaky villain.

The regret set in later as Rogue boarded the jet. He’d been discussing a plan to deal with the sneaky villain with Scott and Jean. Rogue walked passed with Kitty, and her eyes lingered on his a second too long. Scott, if he cared to notice, continued with his discussion. Jean, on the other hand, watched Rogue walk by with a thoughtful look.

Frankly, he didn’t care who knew he was fucking Rogue, when or how. He wasn’t using her any more than she was using him. They were both consenting adults and handled the sex as such.

Logan’s real concern was that he’d developed feelings for Marie and the last thing he wanted to do was hurt her. That thought alone made it sound like she was suffering from a split personality. It was nothing like that at all. It was the uniform.

Every time Marie put on the uniform her attitude changed. She really did become a rogue. Daring and fearless, which was a plus for a superhero. However the moment the uniform came off she was unsure of herself and no manner of coaxing by anyone changed that fact until she put the uniform back on.

The difference was noticeable when she’d started training to join the team. At first, it was a simple boost in confidence after she was fitted for her uniform and began wearing it in the Danger Room. As she mastered her mutation and learned to use borrowed mutations to the advantage of the team, she began to take more risks to the point of needing to be healed a time or two.

He’d never deny her the healing, couldn’t bring himself to see her hurting. Yet her assurance of his need to heal her only reinforced her behavior in uniform to the point that something had to be said. Only he didn’t anticipate how far the talk would go.

During her second mission, she’d borrowed Colossus’ mutation and not enough of his humility. Thanks to the two of them the team was able to stop the Juggernaut in his destructive path. Luckily, all she incurred were some cuts and a sprain that Logan easily healed up.

He’d stayed behind in the hanger bay in the hopes of talking some sense into her. She’d listened willingly enough until it was just the two of them left there. The talk had gone well up to the moment he thought she was going to promise to be more careful.

Damned if she didn’t smile up at him all innocent-like, big, brown eyes full of mischief and whispered, “I know what you want.”

There had been a lump in his throat over the things he thought about her and he’d hidden them well. Things he’d wanted to do that made his hands itch with need. Things that a cold shower couldn’t quell.

Before he could turn away, she’d pulled him to her with the last vestige of borrowed strength. Her mouth was on his and he was helpless to resist as she did know all his secrets. There had been a brief struggle with his uniform, hers needed only a quick jerk at already ripped seams.

She bit his shoulder to muffle her cry as he thrust into her. It wasn’t how he’d wanted this to happen with Marie. But she whispered things he needed to hear, things that made his feral side strain to make her belong to him. The best he could do was kiss her softly as she came on his cock. He followed her seconds later over the edge.

When all was said and done, the knowing smile she flashed him told him all he needed to know. He’d succeeded in making her his but not at all the way he wanted. Rogue belonged to him completely, but Marie was an uncertainty.

~~~~~~

The door never creaked when she opened it. Marie appreciated that just like the fact that Logan kept his room orderly so she wouldn’t stumble over things in the dark. Those little things he did for her let her pretend they had a normal relationship, at least for a few hours at night.

They’d dispensed with the formality of him answering the door months ago. Anymore she slipped into his room on her own to make her apology. Tonight she was late and he was already in bed. When she closed the door, he flipped the covers back in a low pressure invitation. Hesitating a moment, she knew she shouldn’t but it was the only way she knew to make a proper apology.

The first time she’d come to his room to admit her failure in their interactions hadn’t gone as planned. He’d answered the door and let her in. The guilt had lain heavily on her and she wanted to tell him how sorry she was for her behavior in the hanger earlier that day. Yet she’d been afraid he would mistake what she was sorry about as there were no words to adequately express her feelings. She was appalled at herself for taking liberties with his need for her, but she didn’t regret the sex.

It had been the first awkward silence they’d ever shared. When she’d finally had the courage to look at him, she’d seen the misery at the situation plainly written on his face. She’d done this to him and wanted to ease that pain. Instead of talking, she’d hugged him hoping to convey her own feelings more clearly.

A hug led to a kiss that led to sex. Again she’d used his secrets against him. Let him make love to her in the slow, methodical way he’d wanted and she’d loved him all the more for it.

Now she simply slid under the covers next to him, she worried that someday Logan would tire of her inability to go beyond the broken relationship she offered him. Tonight though he pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulders, willing to once again accept her poor substitute for repentance.

The weight of her deficiency was almost unbearable at times. There was fear in her at this cycle of desire and penance. Of what ending it would mean. It was something she didn’t care to think about.

Marie placed a kiss on his broad chest, letting a hand glide further down his body. His muscles tightened in anticipation as her hand crossed his abdomen. She liked the way he grunted when her hand wrapped around his hardening flesh. She only wished this was under different circumstances.

He whispered her name, low and needy in her ear. His hot breath sent a shiver up her spine. She lifted her head for a kiss and he obliged with a slow, languid exploration of her mouth.

Drawing her on top of him, she wanted to resist this position. It was selfish and she enjoyed it way too much. This was supposed to be about him and she preferred to be underneath him, caged in by his strong arms.

She bit her lip, looking away from his imploring eyes. Acquiescing, she lifted herself up as he tugged her panties out of the way. Descending on his hard cock, she shuddered when his thumb grazed her clit. He let out a soft growl, his hands already on her hips moving her.

No sooner had she begun to find the rhythm on her own then his hands moved elsewhere. Tonight they were at her breasts, fondling one and keeping the other at his mouth to suck at. She loved to ride him, it was always hard, fast, and loud. It never failed to make her vocalize her climax.

Her insides were already tightening too quickly and she felt him shift, crossing his ankles in the attempt to last through it. She gripped his shoulders trying to hold back the moan building in her throat. He twisted her nipple, the other hand back on her hip. He mumbled, “Don’t stop.”

She cried out as the orgasm hit her. He kept her moving, she knew he was wanting the second wave that usually accompanied the first. Her body didn’t disappoint them and his name was wrung from her lips with the new rippling of her muscles.

He was flipping them over by the time she tried to slump down on his chest. She was a wreck and he knew it, letting her catch her breath. Readjusting her legs, he set a leisurely pace. Again she had to turn away as he whispered all those things that were no longer secrets. She wasn’t worthy of the love he talked about.

[sanders-specs]

Analogical prompts: Logan loves poetry, but isn't very good at it himself because he has trouble expressing himself. Virgil is rather good at it, but finds it embarrassing. That is until Logan stumbles upon one of his poems by accident and rambles on and on about how well written and poignant it is.

Poet’s Corner 

A/N: I kept this short and sweet, but I love the idea of these boys bonding over their love for poetry and Virgil being excited to show someone what he’s written 

tag list: @irish-newzealand-idian-dutch @dan-yuna @tripleaaaqueer @lilbeanblr @helloisthisusernametaken @justanotherpurplebutterfly @alwaysmy-lilith @ilylogan @logically-trans @seas-space-and-stardust @generalfandomfabulousness @arentordinaryvillainsadorable @nico-ksanders @idioticsky

Logan sighed as he read through his book of poems. They weren’t his poems, just a book of a collection of poems other people had written. The one he’d just finished was called “I Wondered Lonely as a Cloud” by William Wordsworth and he just…couldn’t believe that this poet could write about something as simple as the joys of solitude and Logan could barely tell what he wanted for dinner. 

Throwing the book on the coffee table, Logan got up to fix some soothing tea to hopeful help calm his frustrations. He loved poetry dearly, so it upset him to some degree that he never seemed to be able to write anything he was every happy with. 

He was envious of Roman, who could spout words easily, flawlessly. It was like his brain just formed rhymes and rhythms immediately. The other boy didn’t even need to think about it. 

As Logan set about making his tea, a piece of paper sitting on the counter caught his eye. Figuring it was a grocery list Patton had left, he picked it up to go over it. Only it wasn’t a grocery list. It was a poem, one Logan had never seen before. 

It was…beautiful. Logan had read plenty of poems at this point in his life, had studied and memorized many of them. This one though…this one was one that took his breathe away. 

“What are you doing?!” A panicked voice screeched. 

Logan jumped, startled, and looked up to see Virgil frozen the doorway. He was staring at the paper in Logan’s hand with horror in his eyes. 

“Oh Virgil, is this yours? I was just admiring–” 

Virgil stormed forward and snatched the paper out of his hand. “Don’t go reading things that don’t belong to you!” he snaped, holding the paper like it was a lifeline. 

Logan frowned. “Then perhaps you should not leave poems lying around where anyone can read them. Besides, why wouldn’t you want someone to read that? It is fantastic.” 

Virgil froze that that, the look of anger morphing into one of guarded suspision. 

“You…liked it?” 

“Virgil it is one of the best poems I have ever read.” 

The other boy rolled his eyes. “Shut up, you’re always reading those poem books. You know better than i do that there are thousands of poems better than this thing.” 

Logan shook his head. “I would not exaggerate Virgil. It is well worded, well paced. It is like a song.” 

Virgil’s cheeks reddened and he shrunk away. “I…um…” he looked away, clearly embrassed. 

Logan bit his lip, cursing himself. “I apologize for pushing too much…and for reading your poem without permission.” 

Shifting on his feet, Virgil glanced up at him. “You really liked it?” 

“Of course. I appreciate good poetry.” 

This made Virgil’s face redden more. “Well…um…I have more…notebooks full of them actually…oh god I can’t believe i’m even considering this…” 

Logan took a step forward. “I would be honored to read them, if you will share them with me.” 

Virgil was bouncing on the balls of his feet. “Okay just don’t be too harsh okay? Oh i just said okay twice umm…” 

Logan put a gentle hand on Virgil’s arm. “I enjoyed your first, so it would only be logical that i would enjoy others.” 

“Right, right it’s just…you read so many poems so you’re probably way better at it than I am….” 

Logan blinked in surprise. “oh no. I cannot write poetry, it’s far too hard for me to convey my feelings in a way that is not…robotic.” 

“What?” a surprised laugh came out of Virgil. “You seem to be doing pretty okay right now.” 

Logan blushed at that. “Well…i suppose with you it might be slightly easier.” 

Virgil smirked at that. he reached out and took Logan’s hand. “Alright, then, come on before i lose my nerve. Just be kind in your feedback.” 

Logan smiled and followed him. He spent the rest of the afternoon reading through anything Virgil would hand him, blown away by how talented the usual quiet and reserved boy was. 

Later, when Patton came to get them for dinner, he found the two of them asleep, hands barely touching, and surrounded by notebooks and paper. 

[pidgeon-brained]

Love Carries On: Chapter VI

TW: anxiety attack, sensory overload, angst

Virgil woke up, and immediately jumped up; today was the day, Logan’ birthday. five months of hard work, five months of life changing progress and now today was the day that Logan should get to relax. Virgil sat up out of bed and scrambled around until he found his hoodie, a gift from Roman. He pulled it on, his perpetually cold body reassured in the added protection of the jacket. He pushed his hair out of his face before heading out into the living room. The living room was entirely empty, which was to be expected. His boyfriends always liked to go really big on celebrations, birthdays, holidays, any chance they got to be extra they’d take. Logan had presumably been kicked out of the house until the party and the rest of them were probably in the kitchen preparing something akin to a feast.

Virgil smiled to himself as he walked into the kitchen to find Roman and Patton in matching flowered aprons. Patton was furiously stirring some type of batter, while Roman was building layers of something in a pan. Diego was nowhere to be found. He walked up to Roman and tapped him sharply on the shoulder, he received on finger held up to him, give me a sec.

After a few minutes of working and arranging, Roman turned around. What’s up Virge? He leaned forward, raising his eyebrow in a questioning way.

Where’s D? Virgil responded in likewise, his own question granting an eyebrow raise.

We sent him to the store so that he could get decorations and candles. He shrugged at the end of the statement, his eyebrows relaxing as he switched out of the question asking zone.

By himself? It was less a question and more an anxious and panicked statement.

No! Logan went with, as did Stella. Roman was surprisingly nonchalant, and his eyes were already wandering back to the pan full of food. He just wanted to cook with Patton and not be bothered by all these questions about where and who.

Virgil rolled his eyes before walking away. He couldn’t do anything right now, Logan and Diego were already gone, and he wasn’t a very good cook, or at least not Roman and Patton’s level. A brief thought of him helping Logan and D set up decorations shot through his mind and he nodded to himself in agreement. Seeing as there wasn’t much else to do, he settled himself on the couch and put on a documentary.

As much as he poked fun at Logan for liking documentaries, he liked them a lot as well, it didn’t require him to use his imagination and to understand what type of tone the narrator, or in the case of a lot of movies, character, might be using because they were just relaying factual information. It was comforting to read the subtitles and feel like he understood exactly what was going on.

Today’s documentary was on World War One, it seemed to be centered around one specific battle, but Virgil was just sort of watching the pictures on screen and halfway reading the words. It was comforting, to hang out and not have to do anything just yet. The black and white photography was just boring enough for his brain to focus on other things. He found himself pondering who’s car the boys had taken, what Roman was making, what Patton was making, how Stella was doing. His mind just drifted around, and it was comforting to drift, nothing to focus on, just allowing his mind to think and know things.

He spent what felt like hours doing that, but it was barely half an hour before the door opened and Logan and Diego came in. He didn’t hear the door of course, but he did feel the tap on the shoulder from Logan and he turned around to see them both standing there, bags in their hands.

“Want to help decorate?” Diego spoke slowly, allowing Virgil to read his lips.

Yes. He signed it, a quick knocking movement, before getting up off of the couch to help them put things away.

They set the bags on the table, and inside Virgil found an assortment of party goods, hats, banners and streamers, candles, a few bags for gift wrapping (which Virgil needed because he’d been hiding Logan’s present for months and now he needed a bag to put it in). He was impressed that they had managed to remember all of this, of course since Logan went along, it shouldn’t have surprised him at all.

He shot Diego a quick few signs, asking him if there was a plan. And when Diego explained to him that there wasn’t a plan, he was almost delighted. Virgil had been told almost all of his life that he had an eye for design, and even if that was something of a hidden talent, he thoroughly enjoyed designing things. He grabbed the streamers, (blue and silver) and started to layout in his head where he wanted everything to go. He dug around in the bag until he found a roll of tape. He grabbed a chair from the table and climbed up on it.

Then he paused, suddenly remembering the banner that said ‘Happy Birthday’ on it. He snapped to get Diego’s attention, pointing at the banner on the table, and wordlessly, he handed it to him. Virgil took a step back and looked at the arch, careful not to fall off of the chair, trying to figure out where the banner would have to go to be centered. He nodded his head unconsciously before turning back and snapping again. Diego looked up, and he signed for him to get Logan’s attention.

Logan was the tallest of his boyfriends, and he needed him to hold the banner while he ripped the tape to hold it in place. After Diego explained to him what Virgil needed, Logan came over to stand by him. Virgil guided his hand to where he needed it to be, before letting go so that he could tear the tape. He tore several smaller pieces, so that he could stabilize it, before pulling a long piece to put over the rest. Then, he pulled on the shoulder of Logan’s button up, trying to get him to move around to the other side. After a few seconds of being yanked on, he understood what he wanted, and after accidentally running into the chair that Virgil was standing on, he eventually made his way over to the other side. Once again, Virgil guided his hand into position before taping the other side of the banner in place.

As soon as he was done, he patted Logan on the head in thanks, and grabbed the roll of streamers off of the table. The blue roll was the one he had originally had in his hand, and now that the banner was up, he could see it that much clearer. He ripped off a piece of tape, and stuck just a little bit of it to the wall where he wanted the streamer to be. Then, he placed the streamer, before smoothing the tape over it.

Virgil turned around where he was, reaching out to grab the scissors off of the table as well. He cut the streamer and then stuck them into his pocket so that he’d have them on hand. He stuck the other end of the streamer centered in the middle of the banner. Then, he put the blue streamers in his other pocket to replicate the design with the silver streamers.

It didn’t take long for him to have every archway leading into the dining room decorated with streamers. Some of them were branched across the archway, while others hung down in colorful representations of celebration. He got down off of the chair, and turned it back to face the table, as he finished the archway leading into the kitchen. Then, he pushed it back, before turning away so that he could set all of the things out of his pocket on the buffet table in the corner.

He smiled, satisfied with himself, before going back over to the table and putting on one of the party hats. There were several of them, in a variety of colors, and he was glad to see a dark blue one, which was close enough to his favorite color, purple. He settled it on his head, wincing slightly when the elastic band snapped his chin. He took the empty bags off of the table, and put them in the bag bag.

Diego snuck up behind him, and grabbed (not surprisingly) the yellow party hat. Then, he tapped Virgil on the shoulder.

It looks so cool in here! He smiled brightly, his eyes wide and almost amazed looking.

Thank you. He smiled just as brightly, before sitting down at the table to rest. Are Roman and Patton almost done? It was more of a curious question than a pointed one, and he tried hard to convey that by keeping his expression more surprised like rather than questioning.

Patton is waiting for the cake to cool so that he can put the icing on it.

Nice, what flavor? He knew that Logan didn’t like overly sweet flavors.

Marbled perhaps? I didn’t get a good look at it. He shrugged at the end of the statement, sitting down next to Virgil.

Eventually they were joined by Logan, who after having a conversation that Virgil couldn’t quite keep up with, was handed the silver party hat. He settled it on his own head, before leaning back in his chair and presumably turning his attention to Stella on the floor.

Meanwhile, Patton was adding the finishing touches to Logan’s cake. He had made a lemon cake, allowing for the frosting to be more icing like than anything, and it was decorated with candied lemon slices and pretty yellow flowers. He had written ‘Happy Birthday Logan’ in flowing Silver writing to finish it off. It was one of the only times his handwriting would ever look good.

Roman on the other hand, was just putting the finishing touches on his vegetarian lasagna. He sprinkled the cheese on top of it, before popping it back in the oven. He was very proud of this recipe, a mixture of mushrooms and black beans to create something akin to a meat texture (despite his other boyfriends’ embrace of the vegetarian life, he still indulged in meat every so often). As the cheese was melting, he stirred a little bit of ranch into the mashed potatoes, adding a little more creaminess to the dish. He also reached out to stir the pot of corn so that it wouldn’t burn.

Soon, the cheese had melted, and with a little bit of help from Diego, they carried all of the food out to the table. The festivities were in full swing, they all talked and laughed over dinner; they told stories about Logan, poking fun at him, reminding them all of his greatest days. It was exactly what a great birthday should be.

While they were chatting, Roman had dished up dinner, and now that it was on everyone’s plate, they all quieted down so they could eat. Patton took a bite of the lasagna and immediately his stomach turned, it was slimy, some of the filling was, the texture of what he could only guess was beans and maybe even mushrooms. His heart lurched, he had to forcibly grab the edge of the table to actually swallow down the bite had taken. He caught Virgil’s eye with a pleading look.

Virgil watched as Patton set his fork down and looked down at the ground, he had grabbed the table very tightly, before shooting him a pleading look. Virgil knocked on the table to get Roman’s attention. Ask Pat what’s wrong. His look was just as pleading.

“Pat, are you okay?” He turned to him, to see him hunched slightly over his plate, his knuckles white as he gripped the table.

“I’m fine.” He choked on his words, his gag reflex involuntarily reacting to what he had eaten. His mind was racing with the feeling the texture left behind, his mind blooming with all of the things the texture reminded him of, mud and snails and raw meat.

“Are you sure? You can tell me if something is wrong Patton.” Roman kept his voice as quiet as he could, maybe all the noise had upset him, or something had been said that startled him.

He started to cry as his mind almost hyper fixated on the taste in his mouth and the texture it represented and all the things that texture represented, his mind ran circles around it as tears streamed down his face. Not quiet, unfocused crying, but audible sobs and whimpers.

“It’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, it’s fine, I’m fine.” He murmured over and over again, pushing the plate away from him in an actual show of what was wrong.

Roman felt a flame of something like anger, and he didn’t know why, but he was mad at Patton. He had worked so hard, had done everything he was supposed to, didn’t use meat because Virgil was vegetarian, didn’t make anything overly sweet because Logan didn’t like sweet, didn’t make any of the dishes that Diego had specified so he wouldn’t cause a switch in him, he had done everything and now this.

“Well if you don’t like it Patton you can just not eat it.” Something that could be said with a warm and caring tone, something that should be said with a warm and caring tone, was full of malice and bitterness. “I worked hard to make something good and if you don’t like it I’m sorry.” He crossed his arms, his eyes narrowing in anger as he sat back down. Stupid Patton, why can’t you just like it, there’s nothing wrong with my cooking, you’re overreacting. It wasn’t that bad I tried it too, no one else seems bothered by it.

It reminded Patton of when his mother would get mad at him and send him to his room. And in his mind's eye, it was one and the same, Roman was his mother, hissing cruelly at him in french and sending him to his room for causing a problem at the dinner table. Despite the fact that Roman hadn't said it, he could still hear 'go away, go to your room.' in his voice. He got up, and fled from the table, moving as quick as he could without running, tears still streaming from his eyes.