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waterfiltergurus · 1 year ago

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Clack Water Softener Review (Read Before Buying!)

Clack, or Clack Soft Water, is a manufacturer of commercial and industrial water treatment products, headquartered in Wisconsin. Clack was founded in 1944 by father-and-son duo Willis and Bill Clack. Alongside its RO systems, filter media, and water treatment system accessories, Clack sells a range of water softeners. The softeners are sometimes sold under the "Clack Aqualux" name or "Clack By Aqualux" because a company called Aqualux sells softeners with Clack control heads. This Clack water softener review will discuss all the key features of the water softeners currently sold by Clack: - The Clack Simplex Softener Series - The Clack Duplex Softener Series We'll also be discussing the advantages and setbacks of Clack water softening systems that we discovered in our research, and answering some of the frequently asked questions about Clack Soft Water and its products. 📊 Clack Water Softeners Comparison Chart ⭐ Reviews of Clack Water Softeners Clack Simplex Water Softener Series There are a few different water softeners in the Clack Simplex Water Softener Series: - The Clack Simplex WS1 Metered Water Softener - The Clack WS1.25 Simplex Water Softener - The Clack WS1.5 Simplex Water Softener - The Clack Simplex WS2 Metered Water Softener - The Clack WS3 Simplex Water Softener These softeners have a conventional design, with a single resin tank and a single brine (salt) tank. Note: Many Simplex water softener systems are no longer sold online. So, in this section, we've reviewed the two softeners that we could still find - the Clack Simplex WS1 Metered Water Softener and the Clack Simplex WS2 Metered Water Softener. Clack Simplex WS1 & WS2 Metered Water Softener Clack Simplex WS1 Our Rating★★★★★ Process: Ion Exchange Grain Capacity: 32K-96K Flow Rate: 13-21 GPM Sizes: 8 x 35 to 14 x 65 in Regen Method: Metered Warranty: 5 years Clack Simplex WS2 Our Rating★★★★★ Process: Ion Exchange Grain Capacity: 32K-96K Flow Rate: 35-126 GPM Sizes: 24 x 69 to 36 x 72 in Regen Method: Metered Warranty: 5 years The Clack Simplex WS1 Metered Water Softener is a conventional ion exchange water softener with 1-inch in-and-out connections. The only difference between the WS1 and WS2 softeners, as far as we can tell, is that size: the WS2 softener is bigger and has 2-inch in-and-out connections. The WS1 softener comes in various sizes, from 8 x 35 inches to 14 x 65 inches, with a flow rate ranging from 3.5 to 35 GPG. The WS2 softener has a size range of 24 x 69 inches to 36 x 72 inches, with a flow rate ranging from 62-114 GPM, so it's not intended for residential use. 👍 What We Like - The Simplex range is the most affordable Clack range, and the WS1 softener has a starting cost of around $650. If you have a small home and a limited budget, you can still enjoy the benefit of soft water in your home without spending thousands upfront. - It's great to see such a diverse range of sizes, resin capacities, and flow rates. There are softeners in the WS1 range for residential applications and commercial use, while the WS2 range is largely intended for commercial use. - The resin bed used in these salt-based water softener models is food-grade, and the water softener components are certified to NSF Standard 44. - The average lifespan of a water softener system in the WS1 and WS2 range is 15 years, so you should get plenty of value from your initial investment. - From what we understand, all Simplex softeners use metered regeneration, helping to save salt and water per regeneration cycle. 👎 What We Don’t Like - We're missing a lot of information about the softener's features and performance, and we can't find many stores that sell the WS1 or the WS2 range online anymore. Our verdict: The Clack Simplex WS1 Metered Water Softener is an affordable water softener range with numerous sizes and flow rates to choose from. It's good to see that the tanks and valves are NSF certified, and the softening process is efficient thanks to the metered regeneration. However, we struggled to find the WS1 range sold online. The Clack Simplex WS2 Metered Water Softener is too large for residential use, and it's also difficult to find online. Clack Duplex Water Softener Series Our Rating★★★★★ Process: Ion Exchange Grain Capacity: n/a Flow Rate: 1.7- 28 GPM (WS1TT), 22-34 GPM (WS1.25), 44-62 GPM (WS1.5), 62-114 GPM (WS2), 176-246 GMP (WS3) Sizes: 8 x 17 to 18 x 65 in (WS1TT), 14 x 65 to 21 x 60 (WS1.25), 21 x 60 to 24 x 69 in (WS1.5), 24 x 69 to 36 x 72 in (WS2), 42 x 78 to 55 x 104 in (WS3) Regen Method: Metered Warranty: 5 years The Clack Duplex Water Softener Series also has several different models to choose from: - The Clack Duplex WS1TT Metered Water Softener - The Clack WS1.25 Duplex Water Softener - The Clack WS1.5 Duplex Water Softener - The Clack Duplex WS2 Metered Water Softener - The Clack WS3 Duplex Water Softener These softeners have a single brine tank and two resin tanks, meaning that while one resin tank is regenerating, the other resin tank can be in use - so you have an uninterrupted supply of soft water. The Duplex models have a larger grain capacity and are more expensive than the Simplex softener series. If you have a multi-family household or you live in an apartment complex, the Clack Duplex series is a great solution for your entire property. The larger Duplex models are intended for commercial purposes. Again, we struggled to find these softeners online, and we're not going to write a dedicated review for this series because the softeners have the same features as those in the WS1 series - including metered regeneration, ion exchange softening, and varied system sizes and flow rates. The only difference is that they use two resin tanks, not one. ✅ What We Like About Clack Water Softeners Affordable Price One of the biggest benefits of a Clack water softener is its affordable price. Different models and sizes are priced accordingly, but the starting price for a Clack softener is generally lower than competing models. Clack softeners also have lower running costs due to their quality build, so they're more affordable in the long run - and your purchase is protected by a decent warranty (see below). Good Warranty Clack water softeners and filter controls all come with a 5-year warranty. While this isn't the very best warranty we've seen, it's good for the price point and tells us that Clack is confident in the quality of their products - especially given the complex nature of water softener control valves. Efficient Regeneration A specific performance benefit of Clack water softeners is their metered regeneration. Clack softeners use a meter to measure the volume of water that flows through the system, only regenerating when a certain amount of water has been measured. This is much more efficient than a timer-based softener, which uses timer controls to regenerate after a specific amount of time has passed, regardless of water usage. Clack water softeners only regenerate when they actually need to, helping you to save money and salt on the regeneration process. Great Choice Of Models Clack sells a good range of water softeners, giving you plenty of choice depending on your household size and water usage, your soft water needs, and your preferences in a water softener. Because there are so many different water softeners to choose from, you should be able to find a softener that's perfectly tailored to your requirements. ❌ Potential Setbacks of Clack Water Softener Systems Too Much Choice Can Be Overwhelming While we think it's a good thing to have so many different options for a water softener, trying to distinguish between the different models, makes, and sizes can be overwhelming. You can read guides like these to help you to understand the differences between each model, but we think the manufacturer could be clearer on what they offer and sell their softeners in a way that showcases their unique features and differences. Difficult To Find Products Clack's official website doesn't sell its soft water systems, and no third-party sellers sell the entire range of Clack softeners, either. Many of Clack's products appear to be no longer sold online. Because of the difficulty in tracking down many of the Clack systems, we question whether it's worth the hassle of finding a water softener from the manufacturer when there are so many other options on the market. No Techy Features Considering the Clack water softener price, we wouldn't expect these softeners to have some of the high-tech features of the newer models on the water softener market. Still, we wish Clack's softening systems had a bit more going for them aside from their efficient regeneration. You'd expect at least a few additional features, like low-salt brine tank alarms and battery backup, especially in the more expensive water softeners sold by Clack. 📝 Clack Water Softeners Review: Our Verdict & The Best Water Softener Alternatives In our opinion, If you just want a basic, no-frills water softener that does what it says on the tin at an affordable upfront cost, a Clack water softener is a good choice - once you've figured out which of the numerous different models is right for your softening needs and managed to find this model online, that is. However, the dual-tank softeners are too big and powerful for most homes - not to mention expensive. Plus, even the conventional single-tank softeners are lacking in features compared to many of the models on the water softening market today, and these softeners appear not to be widely sold anymore. There are tens of other water softener models that have more advanced features and perform more capably than Clack water softening systems. 🧠 Clack Water Softeners FAQ Who makes Clack water softeners? Clack water softeners are made by Clack Soft Water, a father-and-son business founded around 80 years ago in Madison, Wisconsin. The company opened as a water softener exchange business and quickly evolved to manufacture and distribute tanks, control valves, and parts for a variety of water treatment systems. How much does a Clack water softener cost? The cost of a Clack water softener depends on the size and model of softener you buy, and from what seller. The average price range for softeners in the Clack Simplex Water Softener Series is $650-$11,500, while the average price range for softeners in the Clack Duplex Softener Series is $1,000-$44,000. If you live in a residential property, you'll be paying closer to the lower end of the price range for small-scale softeners. Are Clack water softeners worth the money? We think the smaller softeners in the Clack Simplex Water Softener Series are worth the money because they're sold at an affordable upfront price and have good flow rates and resin capacities, making them suitable for households with up to 4-8 people. The dual-tank softeners in the Clack Duplex Softener Series are only worth it if you split the cost with other people, such as if you want a water softener for an apartment complex, but they're too big and expensive for use in normal-sized homes. How long does a Clack water softener last? The average life expectancy of a Clack water softener is 10-15 years. Clack water softeners are generally well-made and use durable parts, and they have a good warranty - a reassuring sign from the manufacturer. Is Clack water softener NSF certified? Yes, Clack's cation exchange water softeners are certified to NSF Standard 44 for conforming to requirements for material and structural integrity and for lead-free design. You can view the Clack components that have an NSF 44 certification in the NSF product and service listings catalog. How long does it take for a Clack water softener to regenerate? Like most water softeners, a Clack ion exchange system takes between 60 and 90 minutes on average to regenerate, depending on the system size and your water hardness. You'll hear whirring and rushing water when the softener is performing a regeneration cycle. How often should my Clack water softener regenerate? If you've bought the right size Clack softener for your home, the system should regenerate around every three to five days. Remember, Clack systems regenerate based on water flow through the tank, so the frequency of regeneration will depend on your water usage. What kind of salt do you use in a Clack water softener? You can use any kind of water softener salt in a Clack brine tank. We recommend using a high-purity salt, like evaporated salt, which will dissolve best in water to form brine and should leave minimal debris and impurities in the salt tank. Found this review helpful? Comment below or share this article! Read the full article

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bishopclimate · 2 years ago

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Who Is Stealing Your Inheritance ... Click Here To Find Out!

Dear Child of God, Did you know someone can POSSESS all the good things that you have, claiming it as their own? I saw in my Spirit that someone has been boasting about how they ensnared you and all that they are preparing to take that belongs to you. The enemy has assigned invisible powers in order to capture the blessings meant for the people of God before it even gets to them. When Daniel was fasting for 21 days, God released his blessing on the very first day that he kneeled down to pray. But Daniel's Angel had to war against great powers of darkness, even having to wait for reinforcements, to get the answers to him. What could have taken a day, even an hour, took 21 days for Daniel to receive. Some of us are not as lucky as Daniel. The enemy has robbed the children of God of many breakthroughs, financial blessings, unmerited favour, children, properties, jobs, marriages, promotions, opportunities, and so much more. And many have been unaware thinking that God does not answer their prayers. Yet something else, something evil, has been withholding what is yours. BUT THERE IS GOOD NEWS! I saw Elohim, the God of Judgement, placing a final judgement on the heads of all your enemies and graciously making a way for you to recover ALL the enemy has stolen 7-FOLD in Jesus name. As you prepare yourself for our Night of Deliverance tonight, God is getting ready to loose His Mighty warring Angels into the Land of the Living; into the Land of the Dead, the Seas, the Air and all the hidden places, so that you will RECOVER ALL NOW in the Mighty and Powerful name of Jesus! And David recovered all that the Amalekites had carried away: and David rescued his two wives. And there was nothing lacking to them, neither small nor great, neither sons nor daughters, neither spoil, nor anything that they had taken to them: David recovered all. (1 Samuel 30:18-19) Now Here's What I Need You To Do: 1. Using the prayer agreement form below, I need you to write me all the areas in which things have been taken from you and you need to recover all. 2. I need you to come into agreement with your seed of faith of £30 TO RECOVER ALL. You could give a double portion or any amount as you are led by God. 3. During the Miracle Pool Healing and Deliverance Service, I'm going to dip your prayer request into the pool believing God that you WILL recover all what the enemy has taken. 4. Join me tonight, as we come togethr to defeat the strongman of your inheritance. Child of God, the fight you fight today is not only for the fullness of your joy, but also for the fullness of your children's, children's, children's joy and gladness. Expect God to do something great tonight. CLICK HERE TO SUBMIT YOUR PRAYER AGREEMENT FORM YOU WILL RECOVER ALL IN THE NEXT ... CALL US 24/7 +44 207 738 3668 (UK) +1 347 708 1449 (USA) Remember you can give with your card through the phone it's quicker and safer; the prayer warriors can assist you to write down your prayer request. Or you can ask them to write the prayer of agreement form on your behalf; just call any of the numbers on the prayer agreement form. You can also bring it and put it in my hand for the sake of a special anointing. I would love to pray with you personally and release the power of God in your life. If you would like to see me personally please call our office appointment. But if you need a quick prayer then just pop in anytime, we are here to serve you. Every Sunday Morning at 10:30AM - No Appointment needed. You can also sow straight into the Ministries account through online banking or by visiting your nearest LLOYDS BANK ACCOUNT NAME: Bishop Climate Ministries BANK : LLOYDS BANK SORT CODE: 30-91-91 ACCOUNT: 32472768 IBAN: GB24LOYD30919132472768 BIC: LOYDGB21456 OR YOU CAN SEND THROUGH MONEY GRAM TO: Please note if you are sending your special Offering via Money Gram or Western Union the name has been changed to Jennifer Lanyero, 93 Camberwell Station Road, London, SE5 9JJ, UK (This is my office manager and the pastor in charge of treasury dept. Due to my schedule; she will collect your donation on my behalf) Connect With Me Live www.bishopclimate.tv REMEMBER THAT OUR PRAYER WARRIORS AND I WILL BE PRAYING FOR YOU RIGHT NOW. Yours In Prophecy Prophet Climate Read the full article

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desiderium-if · 3 years ago

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The One-night Stands

Bloom (f, she/her, 25) - River's second in command, his right hand, his best friend... you get it. He recruited her as part of his crew and saved her when she needed it the most, and they've been at each other's side ever since. Bloom is the rational one out of the two, but she's never opposed to some fun! If you play your cards right you might find out for yourself, just for one night.

Hydra (m, he/him, 44) - The courtier. You don't know much about Hydra, just rumors about him doing whatever it took to raise in ranks. It doesn't seem to bother your parents one bit, as they trust him completely and favor him greatly. Though selfish and aloof, Hydra will let you get closer, not even for an entire night, if you wish to do so.

surpirse!! here are the two characters you'll be able to have one-night stands with. you'll meet them both very early in the game so no, there won't be any angst with the ROs if you choose to proceed with the hook-ups. if you have any questions about them i'd be more than happy to answer!

#desiderium-if #new characters <3 #i'm not sure how to tag them yet so i'll come back and edit this in the morning😩#ch: bloom #ch: hydra

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starvels · 2 years ago

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top five plants and/or comic panels!

HMMMMM okay, u get both bc i love ur brain wrinkles 😘

plants from my home collection:

pilea peperomioides (chinese money plant)

angel wing begonia

pachira aquatica (money tree)

euphorbia lactea (white ghost)/euphorbia trigona (cathedral cactus)

split-leaf thaumatophyllum

comic panels from a v quick look through my recent downloaded files. def not top 5 in any definitive sense except for this lazy moment:

captain america vol 4 #12

new avengers vol 1 #4

ultimate nightmare #1

new avengers vol 4 #10

avengers vol 5 #44

+ bonus empyre #6 bc i couldn't decide:

ty ro!!! <3

ask me top 5 anything! // other top 5 answered

#our talk #my talk #top5 #comics talk #616 #ultimates

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londonhalcyon · 3 years ago

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WIP Wednesday but it’s Thursday but I was tagged on Wednesday so I’m calling it Wednesday and going to bed as soon as I hit post

Tagged by @dumpsterhipster . Tagging @unoriginal2tall . No pressure to join in! I’m just gonna start throwing the invitation out there. If anyone else wants to participate, please do! If you tag me when you share, I’ll aim to tag you in the future.

I’ve finished the rough draft of the Mad Witch chapter 31, so I can’t share anything from that quite yet, so here’s more post-canon Fallout 4. This angsty piece takes place well after this scene and is one of the events that prompts this disastrous buddy cop (detective?) road trip. Just a fair warning that it gets a bit dark and deals with heavy themes of grief. Uh, enjoy?

In one fluid motion, Ros drew her pistol on Piper, the hammer clicking under her thumb. Piper raised her hands alongside her head. “Easy! Easy!” she gasped. “No, keep that gun lowered, doll.” This second command wasn’t directed at Ros. It was directed at Nora, who had trained her .44 on Ros the moment her hand had gone for her hip.

Nora didn’t take her eyes off Ros. Nor did she lower her gun. “Piper,” Nora warned.

“No one’s shooting anybody,” Piper said. Then, when Nora didn’t move: “Blue.”

Nora pointed her revolver at the floor, although she kept both hands firmly on it, maintaining a ready stance. “Easy, darling,” she told Ros, her voice low. “We don’t want to hurt you.”

“You don’t want to do this,” Piper said softly.

Ros’s grip on her gun was white-knuckled. Sweat gathered beneath her palm. Breathless, wild, she said, “I don’t have anything left to lose.”

“You have us,” Piper said.

“You can’t promise that.”

“What is hurting me going to accomplish?”

Ros couldn’t answer. She couldn’t drop Piper’s gaze either—she physically couldn’t. There was something fierce and earnest in that freckled face, behind those hazel green eyes. Something that burned Ros to look at. And, yet, if she looked away, Ros would shatter because of it.

“You’re safe here,” Nora said. “We’re friends.”

Ros scoffed, “Are you?”

“I’m not going to fight you,” Piper said. “Tell us how we can help you. Tell me how I can help you.”

“You can’t help me. No one can help me.” There was no backing out. No returning the gun to its holster. They couldn’t pretend this had never happened, so there was no way all of them would get out of this alive. Someone would have to pull a trigger, and Ros didn’t want it to be her.

Not while aiming at Piper, at least.

“Let me try,” Piper said. Her voice was shaking, just like her hands, which were still raised alongside her head. But she spoke so calmly, so softly, as if Ros was no more than a frightened child.

“You can’t,” Ros hissed. “You can’t make it go away. It’s always there, empty and rotting.”

“What is, hon?”

Ros had no words for it. She didn’t need them. When she took her free hand and clawed her fingers across her chest, the pity in Piper’s face told her she had conveyed exactly what she had wanted to say.

Nora sucked in a breath. “Sweetie…”

A jolt rocked Ros’s entire body. She twitched the gun toward Nora. “Don’t call me that!”

“Easy!”

“Careful, hon.”

“Stop it! Both of you!” She rotated her aim between them. “You’ve been acting like my mom. You’re not! My mom’s dead. You’re not her!”

They stared at her. Maybe they were stunned. Maybe they were waiting for her to say more. She didn’t have a choice. The rotting hole beneath her fingers was caving in.

“She’s dead,” she repeated. “My whole family—everyone I have ever loved is dead. I have nothing—nothing left to lose. Don’t make me pretend otherwise.”

“Ros—”

Ros turned her gun back on Piper, who broke off with a gasp. The fearful noise, Piper’s flinch—it brought Ros an odd satisfaction. It felt right. Far more right than her infuriating forced calm. “Haven’t you heard?” Ros laughed. “I’m the Grim Reaper. Death follows me wherever I go.”

“Ros.” Nora this time. Ros didn’t look away from Piper again, because the rational part of her brain that was still functioning said this would hurt Nora the most. The irrational part of her brain, the one that was running the show, found an odd satisfaction in that too. “Hey, Ros, tell me about your gun.”

“What?” Ros asked. Piper frowned, equally confused.

“Guns sometimes have stories. What’s yours?”

“Don’t—don’t distract me.”

“I’m not. This is relevant, I promise. What’s your gun’s story?”

A tremble ran through the weapon. Ros brought her left hand up to steady it, finally gripping it properly. Her fingertips rubbed against the nicks in its trigger guard. “It…it doesn’t have one. I traded for it, about a year ago. I lost the last one. Threw it at a raider’s head when I ran out of ammo.”

Nora laughed once. It was a breathless laugh, the kind formed when pressure intensified every emotion. “See, that’s a story. My gun has a story too.” Ros dared to watch her from the corner of her eye as she held up the modded .44 for her to see. “This revolver,” Nora stated, “belonged to the man who murdered my husband and kidnapped my son. I took it from him after I killed him. I would’ve tossed it in the river years ago if it hadn’t kept me alive repeatedly since then.”

More tremors ran through Ros’s gun, stronger than before. She couldn’t keep her aim straight, not long enough to react when Nora stepped in front of Piper. Piper’s hand grabbed her arm from behind, but Nora elbowed her, forcing her back.

“Piper’s pistol has her own story,” Nora continued. “She inherited it from her dad after he was murdered.”

“Blue,” Piper warned.

Nora ignored her. Slowly, she holstered the .44 and raised her empty hands, arms extended, palms upturned. She took a step forward.

Ros shifted her weight from foot to foot, rocked by a burst of adrenaline with nowhere to go. “Stay back!” she warned. Everything was shaking now—her voice, her breath, her hands, her legs. Even her vision was wavering.

“I can’t comprehend what you’ve gone through, how much pain you’ve been in for a very long time. I only know what I feel right here.” Nora placed her left hand on her chest, her fingers clawing into her shirt. “How empty and raw it is, like someone ripped out a part of me that can never be filled. Sometimes it burns so much I can’t breathe.”

“What’s the point?” Ros said hoarsely. Her throat was almost too tight to speak. “What’s the point of anything?”

“The point”—Nora reached behind her to briefly squeeze Piper’s hand—“is that when I was lost, someone was waiting for me at the city gates. Locked out, actually. Waving her arms and yelling.” She gave a half-smile. “I found good people, kind people. People that were willing to love me if I let them. I have a family again.”

“You’re not my family.” There was no more anger behind Ros’s words. There was simply a tired, miserable grief.

Nora’s smile turned sad. “I know,” she said, and that was it. That was the trigger that had been pulled. Just not from a gun.

Ros closed her eyes. The hammer on her pistol clicked. She rotated it in her hand until the handle was facing away from her. “Take it,” she whispered. “Before I do something.”

The cold metal left her fingers. Without it, she might as well have been drifting away through air. She no longer had a weapon to protect herself from the rotten things in that hole in her chest. So, defenseless, she threw open the door and ran, ignoring the voices that called her back.

#i swear this fic has happy moments #there’s supposed to be goofy dancing and corny jokes…eventually #that’s if i ever write more than these snippets #wip wednesday #fallout 4 #piper wright #sole survivor #ros markey #rosemary reaper #fallout 4 fanfic #hey look new tags

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biggestfraudyoullevermeet · 2 years ago

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Hello hi who are you

hello, hi its ros

#hi #ros answers #ros answers<44

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and-it-freezes-me · 3 years ago

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Little Red Lies - Chapter 3

{Previous} {Next}

Warnings for this chapter: travel sickness, discussion of blood and raw meat

[For the hundredth time]

Incredible Sulk 03:57

[What time are you getting into the airport today]

Incredible Sulk 03:57

[LA time or Manhatten time?]

Roman 03:58

[Why the everloving fuck would I want it in LA time]

Incredible Sulk 03:58

[Keep your hair on, V]

Roman 03:58

[Why are you awake at 4am]

Incredible Sulk 03:59

[Flight leaves at 11 here, so we should be landing around 4. Or 7pm, your time.]

Roman 03:59

[Why are *you* awake at 4am?]

Roman 03:59

[Im awake at 7am as you well know. Maybe try using that brain sometime, Princey. I know you have one]

Incredible Sulk 04:00

[Rude.]

Roman 04:01

[Go to sleep Ro]

Incredible Sulk 04:03

[Okay.]

Roman 04:04

---

[Hey Remus what’s the stupidest thing you’ve ever done?]

Roman 05:32

Stinky Garbage Man is typing…

[janjan says if i say them theyll divorce me]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:35

[so probs the 4th time i set my hair on fire]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:35

[the foam in fire xtinguishers does not taste good]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:36

---

[Are you alright? Slightly concerned that you’re asking your chaos brother for reassurance that you haven’t done something stupid.]

The Janus Beast 05:35

[I’m not asking for reassurance, everything is fine. Go to work, J.]

Roman 05:36

Roman always forgot how unnerving Janus’ uncanny intuition was. He was almost entirely certain that his brother-in-law could detect the lie in his text, but the responding message gave no indication that he was about to push him.

[Alright. Go to bed, Roman. It’s 05:36 for you.]

The Janus Beast 05:36

[Okay.]

Roman 05:37

---

[yru up @ 530]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:37

[u kno v will flip if u miss ur flight]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:37

[Can’t sleep.]

Roman 05:38

[Why are *you* awake at half eight? You never get up that early.]

Roman 05:38

[got a meeting w/ pub]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:38

[then v wants support @ his last fitting]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:38

[hes collecting u from th airport l8r u kno]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:39

[gonna b pissd if ur a nosho]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:39

[Good luck at your meeting.]

Roman 05:39

[I’m not going to miss my flight. I’ll be outside the airport for Virgil to pick us up half an hour after we land, just like I said yesterday.]

Roman 05:40

[Why did you set your hair on fire the 4th time?]

Roman 05:42

[wanted 2 c if flour in hair wld burn an interesting colour etc]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:42

Roman is typing…

[Isn’t flour really fucking flammable?]

Roman 05:42

[so fuckn flammable dude]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:42

[almost wound up in hospital]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:42

[had to replace 1/2 the kitchen]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:43

[You did it in the kitchen? Why?]

Roman 05:44

[thats where th flour is duh]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:44

[Obviously]

Roman 05:44

[u go 2 sleep?]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:49

[Did you regret setting your hair on fire 4 times?]

Roman 05:50

[7 times]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:51

[& no ofc not]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:51

[vry valuable exprience]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:51

[y]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:52

[u ok?]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:52

[I’m fine. Just wondering.]

Roman 05:53

[go 2 sleep bbbro]

Stinky Garbage Man 05:54

[Okay.]

Roman 05:57

---

[Patton, how do you tell whether you’re going to regret something later?]

Roman 06:01

[roman raphael prince, i know for a fact that you should be asleep right now.]

Patton-cake 06:03

[you’ll feel better when you’re not sleep deprived. if you miss your flight i’m not going to stop vee from murdering you]

Patton-cake 06:04

[Alright. See you later Pat.]

Roman 06:05

[sleep well]

Patton-cake 06:06

[don’t forget to set an alarm ro]

Patton-cake 06:10

[ro?]

Patton-cake 06:20

---

Missed call: Incredible Sulk - 07:01

Missed call: Incredible Sulk - 07:16

Missed call: Incredible Sulk - 07:31

Missed call: Patton-cake - 07:53

Missed call: Patton-cake - 08:01

---

[Roman answer your fucking phone I need to know youre awake]

Incredible Sulk 08:02

---

[ro please tell me you set an alarm, we’re worried you’ll miss your flight]

Patton-cate 08:04

---

Missed call: Patton-cake - 08:07

Missed call: Incredible Sulk - 08:33

Missed call: Incredible Sulk - 08:36

Missed call: Incredible Sulk - 08:39

Missed call: Stinky Garbage Man - 08:59

---

[vs getting super stressed asshole answer ur phone]

Stinky Garbage Man 09:12

---

[Roman if you miss your plane I will kill you]

Incredible Sulk 09:15

---

Missed call: Incredible Sulk - 09:18

---

“Roman!”

Roman groaned and pressed his face deeper into his pillow, trying to ignore the pounding in his head.

“Roman! Open up!”

“Five more minutes…” The pounding got louder, so he rolled over and pulled his pillow over his face instead. “Geez…”

“If you fail to get up right now we will miss our flight!” It sounded as though somebody was trying to break his door down.

“‘M not gonna miss my… Flight. Shit.”

Roman’s eyes flew open, and a second later his pillow was on the floor and he was across the room. When he jerked his door open, Logan’s fist was raised and although not a hair on his head had escaped his clinically neat ponytail, the harried creases on his forehead showed the most emotion Roman had seen on his face.

“You’re not even dressed!” The words were practically a shriek, and Roman fought the urge to clap his hands over his ears. “We should have left thirty-eight minutes ago! I’ve been trying to wake you for half an hour!”

Rubbing a hand over his face, Roman squinted over his shoulder and found that his alarm clock was in pieces on the floor, exactly where it had been for the last month. “What… What time is it?”

Logan brandished the thick-banded watch on his forearm. “Twenty-four minutes past nine! Get dressed, we need to go!” His other arm shot out, pushing Roman out of the way as he reached for the door handle and began pulling it closed. “Hurry up!”

Roman blinked dumbly at the inside of his bedroom door, then grabbed the shirt on the back of his desk chair and started yanking it over his head, scanning the room desperately. Mostly packed suitcase open at the foot of his bed, half full duffle-bag on top of the unread textbooks on his desk… He spotted his phone halfway through pulling his jeans on, and hopped across the room to scoop it up from where it had fallen between bed and bedside table, and turned it on.

The psychic assault of the missed calls and texts that filled the screen sent him reeling across the room. Grabbing a handful of (hopefully) clothes from his wardrobe, he typed out a frantic text with one hand and started throwing things into his suitcase as the pounding of Logan at his door started again.

Groupchat: Princes and Co.

[All fine getting on plane soon phone was out of charge see you later]

Roman 09:33

He didn’t have time to check for responses, kicking his suitcase shut and stuffing his laptop and toothbrush into the duffle on his desk. The red notebook was open in the middle of his floor - he considered leaving it, just to irritate Logan, but decided he was bigger than that and chucked it in as well. Then Roman was out of the door, still zipping his bag closed.

Logan started walking as soon as he saw him, shiny black shoes silent against the beige dorm carpets. “There is a taxi outside awaiting our presence. We should still make it to the airport in time to board, although we will likely have to run through security and check-in. Your fly’s down, by the way. All the hair on the left side of your head is flattened down.”

“Yeah, well…” Roman paused to zip up his jeans, then hurried to catch up with Logan. “We can’t all look perfect this early, Geek of Nature.”

One of Logan’s hands rose briefly to smooth his already pristine hair. “It is half past nine. That hardly counts as early, especially when our plane leaves in ninety minutes. Your suitcase is still open - you dropped a pair of orange boxers three-”

“I got them, I got them!” Roman stuffed the escaping underwear back into his suitcase and forced the zip closed, then buckled it neatly. “How come you’re not dragging luggage? Don’t strike me as the type to come unprepared.”

“My suitcase and hand luggage are already in the taxi, as was I, at eight forty-five on the dot. I trust you have our plane tickets.”

“Red notebook.” Roman patted the duffle bag under his arm, breathing a private sigh of relief that he had packed it after all. “I’m not stupid, you know.”

“Could have fooled me,” Logan muttered, and increased his pace ever so slightly. Scowling, Roman broke into a jog.

The elevator ride down to the main doors passed in stiff silence, and when they reached the taxi Logan slipped into the passenger seat, leaving Roman to fight with his bags alone. As he slipped into one of the back seats, he heard Logan address the woman behind the wheel. “I will pay you double if you get us to the airport before ten-thirty.”

Roman saw his life flash before his eyes as they darted through rows of traffic, gripping the edges of his seat and hitting the door or his suitcase every time they shot around a corner. Logan seemed entirely unruffled by their break-neck race through the city, and even managed to compliment their driver as she helped unload his bags from the trunk.

So he could turn on the charm when he wanted to.

Roman really hoped he would want to when they arrived home in Manhattan.

They all but sprinted through security as the last call for their flight rang out through the airport, Logan’s longer legs carrying him ahead until Roman almost lost him in the crowd. That was fine: the frosty look he had thrown Roman as they had spilled from the taxi had been more than enough to quell anything he might have wanted to say. He was panting by the time they reached their gate, only just able to shoot a smile at the flight attendant as he fished the red notebook from his bag and pushed it toward her, flipping open to the tickets wedged between the first pages.

Roman didn’t catch his breath until well after they had stowed their bags and taken their seats on the plane; he wasn’t lucky enough for Logan to be similarly unfit.

“You cannot do that!” In fact, Logan didn’t even seem out of breath as he hissed at Roman over the safety briefing. How was that fair?

Roman shrugged to indicate his confusion.

“You cannot just show people your notebook! That’s the easiest way to get us caught - I naturally assumed you were capable of logical thought, Roman.” Logan’s voice was a furious whisper. “You’re going to ruin all the planning I’ve put into this if you can’t utilize basic-”

“Oh, what do you care? You’re never going to have to see any of my family again!” Roman yanked at his seatbelt - it had gotten caught under the arm of his chair. “I’m the one they’ll ridicule endlessly if this blows up in our faces!”

“I’m the one giving up valuable revision time on a gamble that you seem determined to sabotage!” Logan, of course, not only had his seatbelt fastened perfectly but had also procured a neck pillow from somewhere. “If you’re that desperate not to pay me, you should have asked somebody else!”

Stung, Roman jerked his seatbelt more roughly, and it came free. “What kind of asshole do you think I am? I’m still going to pay you if we fuck up!”

“Good!”

“Fine!”

The frustrating thing about fighting with somebody during take-off was that there was nowhere for Roman to stomp off to sulk. Instead, he did the next best thing: grabbing the sleep mask tucked into the back of the seat in front of him, he ripped the packet open as loudly as he could and snapped the band over the back of his head.

“You’re really going back to sleep!” Logan’s voice rose in pitch and volume, and several people ahead of them turned around to stare. “You’ve been awake less than two hours! I’ve been awake since six!”

“Well, I didn’t get to sleep until six. Quit shrieking at me,” Roman grumbled. “It doesn’t affect you if I get a little more beauty sleep.”

“We need to go over our-”

“No, we don’t. Goodnight.” Pulling the mask down over his eyes, Roman leaned back in his seat and tried to relax.

When the plane levelled out a few minutes later and he heard people begin to move around a little more, he got up to get his headphones out of his duffle bag to block out Logan’s continuing angry whispers and found that he had left them behind in his rush to get out the door.

---

“I’m going to call us a taxi.” They were waiting at baggage claim, watching a single blue suitcase tied to a large Winnie-the-Pooh bear go slowly round and round the conveyor belt. “The taxis that wait outside airports carry with them a significantly higher chance of murder than one I could call.”

Pushing aside the Virgil-esque fact, Roman stuffed his phone back into his pocket. “Don’t bother, Doctor Doom-and-Gloom. I- Hey, we haven’t seen that bag before. Do you think our luggage is coming now?”

A purple bag that could only be described as a sack had joined the yellow bear and its suitcase. A couple of seconds later, a beige rucksack longer than Roman was tall joined the party.

“We have been waiting here for less than ten minutes. Our bags will be along soon.” The fluorescent lights of baggage claim didn’t do much for Logan’s complexion, Roman thought. He looked even paler than usual, almost corpse-like against his black hair and polo shirt. A fifteen-year-old Virgil would have asked him for makeup tips. “And are you expecting us to walk to your place? I would rather call a taxi.”

“Don’t be ridiculous.” Roman stood on tip-toe to see over the heads of the group of women in matching yellow sashes that had just cut in front of the pair of them. “My brother’s picking us up. He’s been waiting outside for the last half hour. Has this horrible phobia of being late to anything.”

“Why couldn’t I be pretending to date him?” The note of humour in Logan’s voice was barely detectable - but detectable it was, and Roman chuckled quietly.

“You’d have to fight his fiancé for him. I’ve heard Pat throws a mean right hook. Oh - that’s my bag.” Roman missed Logan’s response as he darted forward to grab his suitcase. A few seconds later, he saw Logan’s as well; when he had fought his way out of the sudden crowd converging on the conveyor belt he handed it to his companion, who nodded his thanks.

As Logan leaned down to check his possessions were still secure, Roman felt his phone buzz against his thigh. He pulled it out to glance briefly at it. “Virgil’s telling us to hurry up, he can’t stay where he is much longer.” Another buzz. “Oh, nice. He’s in one of the bus bays, come on.”

[Waiting in a bus bay Needed the space for your massive ego /j]

Incredible Sulk 19:42

“Virgil, older brother, engaged to Patton Hart, twenty-four, baker, birthday January third, hates being late, worries like ‘a dog with new slippers’. Am I missing anything?”

When Roman glanced over his shoulder, he saw that Logan was holding a small stack of white card, decorated with his cramped scrawl. “Are those - Did you make flashcards for my family?”

“Naturally.” The stack of cards disappeared into a pocket of Logan’s dress pants, and he lengthened his stride until Roman was hurrying to keep up with him again. “Come on. I want to make a good impression.”

“And I want to get out of the airport, half drown myself in the shower, dump my bags, and get some sleep. Quit rushing me more.”

“You slept practically the entire flight here. How are you still thinking about going back to bed?”

“Looking this good doesn’t happen naturally, you know!” Roman released his grip on his duffle long enough to smooth a hand through the reddish-brown tufts that he now realised were sticking up all over one side of his head, and completely flat on the other. “I need at least nine hours of beauty sleep a night.”

“Hmm.” The noncommittal grunt was a far cry from the teasing flirtations that Remy would have responded with, but Roman almost preferred it. Not everything had to be turned into a long, semi-aggressive flirting competition when he was already tired and clearly not in top form. He was sure he would go back to finding Logan’s taciturnity irritating very quickly; just then it was a blessing. “Which car are we looking for?”

“In the bus bays. It should be-”

“INCOMIIIIIING!”

It was an instinctive reaction to drop his bags, arms shooting out to brace himself against the blurred shape hurtling toward him. There was a flash of neon green, an impact that made Roman take two steps backward to keep his balance, and then he was staring into his own mismatched eyes and a crooked grin. Aside from the sleazy moustache and the eyebrow ring, Roman could have been looking in a mirror: he and his brother shared the same face shape, the same gap between their front teeth - although Remus’ was somewhat emphasized by the fact that he had refused to wear his retainer; they had the same auburn hair, though Remus’ was a little longer, significantly messier, and had a green streak dyed into the front. It looked as though a small flock of pigeons had been mating in it.

“You’re home! You look like shit!” There was unmissable delight in Remus’ yell.

“I’m going to drop you!”

“You look like V’s vampire barbie!”

“You weigh the same as mom’s old truck!”

“You sound like you’ve been gargling crushed glass!”

“You smell like you’ve been sleeping in a coffin!”

“A coffin?”

“With a corpse!”

“Corpse breath!”

That was when Roman’s arms gave out and he dropped his elder brother in an untidy mess on the floor.

“Fuck! My assbone!”

“I did warn you!” Roman didn’t think he’d smiled so widely in months as he leaned down to offer Remus a hand up. “You can’t just jump at people, dickhead.”

“You caught me, didn’t you? I knew you would.”

There was something sticky on one of Remus’ fingerless gloves that Roman really wished he hadn’t touched. He wiped his fingers on his leg. “Next time I won’t catch you, just see how you like it.”

“We’ll both end up on the floor if that happens, you know.”

“Maybe you’ll learn after the first dozen times.” Roman nudged Remus’ shoulder playfully, and was rewarded with an unfairly sharp elbow to the ribs as the pair of them turned toward Logan, who was standing beside an unfazed Virgil and watching them with something that toed the line between concern and confusion.

“Maybe not.” Remus considered Logan for a moment, then elbowed Roman once more. “I can’t believe I’ve been here for over a minute and you haven’t introduced me to your squeeze, dude. Not cool.”

“Right! Yes, Remus, Virgil - this is my boyfriend, Logan. Logan - Remus, Virgil. My brothers. I showed you pictures.” Roman waved a hand extravagantly in the direction of each, accidentally-on-purpose catching Remus across the chin. Remus snapped at his fingers.

Logan’s eyebrows raised ever so slightly at the exchange, but he took a smart step forward and offered Roman’s doppelganger his hand. “Roman has not told me nearly enough about you, Remus. I was not expecting you to look so similar.”

As Roman turned to hug Virgil hello and compliment his dark purple nails, he kept half an ear on the conversation behind him.

“Everyone says that! We could be womb-mates if I hadn’t popped out first! How tall are you, Bro-gan? Ro’s told us fuck-all about you, either!” There was the sound of metal studs in Remus’ sleeves clinking against one another: clearly he was giving Logan a far more enthusiastic handshake than the other student would have expected.

“I am six foot three, and I can see that nicknames run in the family. How tall are you, what is on your glove, and may I have my hand back now?”

“Five nine, maple syrup snail-slime and sugar-water, yes. You’re taller than my partner, they’re gonna be soooooooo pissed Ro managed to get a taller boyfriend too, I can’t wait to introduce you. Jan’s gonna turn inside out they’ll be so mad. How long have you two been dancing the tango?”

“I… Regret to say that we have never danced the tango?”

“It’s a metaphor, dude! Do you usually miss those? Oh, it’s going to be so much fun having you around! Roman says you study medicine, right? Have you ever dissected something? Do you know where organs are? I really really need a liver and I found a dead cat the other day, are you busy later?”

Roman closed his eyes in exasperation. “He has Janus to dissect things! What’s the point of marrying a pathologist if he’s going to outsource his hobbies?”

His complaint was met with a faint chuckle. “You know he’s doing it on purpose, right?”

“I knoooooow,” Roman moaned, bending to pick up his duffle and the handle to his suitcase, then noticing that Virgil had Logan’s navy blue satchel looped over his shoulder. “Hey, how come you offered to carry his bag and not mine? I’m your brother.”

Virgil smirked and started walking, grabbing Remus by the back of his collar as they passed him. “He didn’t leave us out of the loop for months and then refuse to give his new boyfriend’s name until a week before my wedding. You’re a big boy. You can carry your own bags.”

Grumbling under his breath, Roman followed his brothers back toward the car; Logan fell into step beside him a few moments later. The taller man turned his head toward Roman and spoke under his breath, clearly keeping one eye on the pair in front of them. “You said, verbatim, ‘Remus is quirky.’ You did not tell me he would ask me to dissect a cat, or whether I’d be open to discussing the greatest stretching force that could be put on various parts of the body.”

“He’s just…” Roman sighed and switched his dufflebag to his other hand. “He’s protective. Family’s important to me - to us - and we’ve been dating almost a year - he’s making sure you know what you’re getting into. I’m sorry. Just ignore him, okay?”

“Virgil seems... Nice.” Logan paused briefly. “He said he was glad that the engine of the plane had remained in one piece, and that we should get back to your mother’s house without the car bursting into flames.”

“Also trying to unnerve you. Really, Logan, don’t worry about them. They’re usually a lot less… disturbing. Let me get your bag.” He had only made the offer because when they reached Virgil’s battered, dark purple Ford, its owner was leaning against its side, expectant eyes on Roman, boot open.

Logan glanced at the car. His adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, then nodded. “Thank you.”

Shrugging, Roman gestured briefly at one of the doors before taking the handle of Logan’s suitcase from him. Virgil nodded approvingly and slid into the driver’s seat as Roman struggled to force the two large bags into the back of the car. By the time he managed to slam it closed and was able to climb into the backseat beside Logan - Remus had, of course, called shotgun with even more gruesome detail than was his usual - the engine was running and a phone was already hooked up to the dashboard. Judging by the completely uncracked screen and the dark blue case, it was Logan’s, and when he squinted at the screen Roman saw that the ‘Casual Hangout’ playlist he had made yesterday afternoon had been pulled up.

Would Virgil and Remus have been like this with any boyfriend he had brought home? It seemed as though they were deliberately trying to catch him or Logan in their lie.

Did they already know?

No, they couldn’t.

They had been careful - mostly at Logan’s near anal meticulousness, something Roman was suddenly feeling more than thankful for. If they had gone for the half-assed plan he had devised, he was almost certain that they would have been found out already, and-

“-man?”

“Dude, did insects lay eggs in your ears or something?”

“Huh?” Roman blinked. Remus had turned around in his seat to stare at him, his eyes wide enough that he was certain they would fall out of his head if Virgil had to brake suddenly. Virgil glanced at him in the rear-view mirror, then looked back at the road ahead. “What?”

“We were saying how mom’s gonna go crazy when you move out.” Remus twisted around even further so he could poke Roman’s arm. Roman batted his hand away. “She’s delighted you and Logan are staying.”

“I’ve been staying with her for the last few days - Pat wants to make a whole thing out of moving in together after the wedding - and she’s been all over me.” Virgil met his gaze in the mirror again, rolled his eyes, then indicated. “I cannot wait until I’m no longer her main focus.”

“I know you’re trying to make this about the obscene amounts of paella and chocolate sauce she’s going to feed us, but I’m too distracted by how adorable it is that you and Pat are moving in twice.” Roman folded one leg over the other and smirked as Virgil flicked him off - then found himself being crushed against his door as his brother took a corner rather faster than he had been expecting. “Geez, dude, where’s the fire? Slow down a little. Unless you want me covered in bruises for your wedding.”

Logan didn’t seem to have been bothered by the sharp turn. He was still straight-backed, pale, one hand gripping the grab handle above his door, eyes closed. Maybe he was tired.

“I had assumed you’d be wearing a suit, Ro. Nobody will be able to see the bruises.” Virgil paused to glance over his shoulder before moving into the next lane.

“Which means you two -” Remus, who had a mark on his neck where his seatbelt had dug in but was still facing him, pointed at Roman and Logan and smirked. “- have plenty of opportunity to get dirty without worrying about ruining V’s big day!”

“Fuck off, Re.” Remus stuck out his tongue, piercing flashing in the passing streetlights, and Roman returned the gesture.

Virgil groaned, clearly regretting pausing long enough to allow his older brother to interject. “That being said, if you are planning on wearing something other than a suit, I’ll need to know colour and magnitude soon. No, I’ll need to know by fucking yesterday - it’ll affect the seating plan in reception.”

"Your reception plan changes based on my wardrobe? I'm flattered, Virge - you know it's your wedding, right? Not mine?"

"I sure hope it's my wedding. Do you know the amount of favours you'd need to trade for me to do your cake for free?"

Roman chuckled and turned his head to look out the window, watching the cramped shops and houses pass by. "I know I'd be in debt til my dying day."

"Longer than that - I'm sure Doctor Logan-stein would be able to find away to keep you working long enough to pay him back. Oh, this song sucks ass, Roman, what were you thinking?" Remus finally turned back around and started prodding at Logan's phone. "I cannot believe you've stuck around despite my brother's abysmal taste in music, Lo. Can I call you Lo? I'm calling you Lo."

Logan ignored Remus.

Roman smirked and turned back to their driver. "You sure you don't want someone with a longer attention span as your best man? I'll still do it if you ask nicely… I know, I'll trade you - you make my eventual wedding cake, and I'll rescue you from having a troll give the speeches at your wedding."

"Quit trying to steal my job!" The music cut off suddenly, a split second before something hard thudded against Roman's chest. He winced.

"Did you just throw Logan's phone at me? Virgil, are you absolutely certain you don't want someone slightly less violent for- stop, Re, stop, I'm joking!" Roman raised his hands to protect his face from the sudden onslaught of pens, grinning. It was really, really good to be home.

“You better put those back in the glovebox before you leave my car, or I really will consider making a last minute change to the wedding arrangements.”

“No, you wouldn’t. A major change this close to the date would break the grey goo up here.”

“Don’t flick my ear, I’ll crash the car.” There had indeed been a slight swerve to Virgil’s otherwise straight driving; Roman hadn’t looked up from where he had been collecting the various biros Remus had attacked him with, but had assumed that the cause of the wobble could be traced directly back to his eldest brother.

“Promise?”

“You’re insufferable.”

“Wrong! I’m bored and ravenous. I really think -”

“Feet off the dashboard.”

“- I could eat a whole herd of horses now.” Remus spoke straight over Virgil’s reprimand. Roman hadn’t expected anything else, and he doubted Virgil had either - it was an automatic reflex now. “Wouldn’t even have to cook them. Just chomp down, I could pick the hair out of my teeth later - they’d be warm if I got to them quickly enough, and you can eat horse meat raw, you know. They serve it with soy sauce in Japan - they call it sakuraniku, it literally means ‘cherry blossom meat’, because of the pale pink colour. And the blood has a ton of iron and stuff, should be safe in small quantities - but I am curious about how bad drinking a gallon of the stuff could be. Does it taste like cow’s blood? Is it closer to goat? Not that I’ve tried goat, but you get the picture.”

Roman took a second to digest this disturbing piece of information, then brushed passed it and hoped that Logan wasn’t too disturbed by the idea. “Didn’t you eat lunch?”

“Sure, but that was hours ago! Oh, thanks.” Taking the small handful of pens from Roman, Remus stuffed them back into the glove box before turning back around to face him. “Hey, Ro-ro-rotten-egg, guess what mom’s making for dinner?”

Their mother had never cooked often, usually being too busy with work and taking care of three kids to have the time, but the special occasions that she did more than made up for the sandwiches and ready-meals they had usually eaten.

“I don’t-”

“Meatballs!”

“You didn’t give him a chance to guess, idiot.”

“From scratch?” Roman’s cheeks were starting to hurt from smiling so much.

“You bet! She’s doing them properly, too, with the paprika and the egg and the beef! I’m going to drown mine in sauce until I can barely see them anymore so it soaks all the way through, and-”

“Virgil. Would you - stop the car. Please.”

Roman’s gaze snapped sideways at the unusually broken sentences to see that Logan had, if anything, gone even paler than before. A sheen of sweat was visible on his forehead.

Despite how quiet the words had been, Virgil must have picked up on the urgency in them, because they were stopped within a handful of seconds; Logan was unbuckled and out of the car so quickly that his seat belt snapped back toward Roman, the metal part narrowly missing his face.

Roman blinked at the empty seat beside him for a moment, then got out of the car himself.

Logan was facing away from him, shoulders hunched and palms braced against the rough brickwork of Staker’s Costume Supplies. Virgil had stopped right by a street lamp, and it was casting a sickly yellow puddle over the pavement, the bins spilling out of the alleyway just to their left, Virgil's car, and Roman and Logan.

"Hey. You good?" The answer was obviously no: Logan's shoulders were rising and falling in an unnaturally controlled motion, and he still looked pale and clammy. The yellow lighting was making his dark hair look nauseatingly greasy. Roman wrinkled his nose at the smell rising from a split binbag and stepped closer. "Can I touch you?"

Logan's shrug was accompanied by the sound of two slamming car doors, and as Roman rested a hand on his shoulder Virgil joined them, Remus only a step behind.

“Logan, bud, are you alright?” Virgil wrapped his cardigan more tightly around himself - it wasn’t a warm night by any means. “Was I driving too fast?”

“Are you gonna puke?”

Roman loved Remus, he really did, but sometimes he very much wanted to lock his mouth closed and throw away the key.

Taking another deep breath, Logan straightened up. He shook his head jerkily, skin somewhere between ice white and glass green. “I am not going to vomit. I merely-” He ducked suddenly.

It turned out Logan wasn’t right about everything.

Although it wasn’t strictly necessary - Logan’s tight ponytail was very neat - Roman moved to hold the taller man’s hair out of his face as he heaved. His other hand moved in aimless circles into the space between Logan’s shoulder blades.

Virgil winced and looked away until the spattering sound stopped and Logan pushed himself back into a more vertical position, one hand still bracing himself against the wall. He patted the pockets of his pants for a moment, then wiped his mouth on the back of his other hand.

There was silence for a moment, Roman still awkwardly rubbing his companion’s back.

“I- I apologise. I did not-”

“Lo, you don’t have to-”

“Logan, you really don’t have to apologise for getting carsick, it’s not like you did it on-”

“There’s not very much here. Have you eaten today?”

Virgil and Roman both turned to scowl at Remus, who was inspecting the small puddle of puke at their feet. It was a miracle that none of it had splattered onto their shoes, really. He gave the puddle one last, critical look before straightening up again.

“It’s mostly bile, actually. Which can be very valuable in some communities, but I doubt that was quite what you were going for.”

Logan wiped his mouth again. When Roman looked back at him, he found that Logan was staring at his feet. “I... Air travel has a negative effect on me.”

“You didn’t tell me that.” There was no pretense in the concerned hurt in Roman’s voice. His hand came to rest on Logan’s shoulder, then dropped awkwardly to his side when the other’s eyes flicked toward it. “I could have… Held your hair, or something.”

“You were asleep.”

Roman didn’t think he knew Logan well enough to read him, but there was no mistaking the unsaid words that followed: I don’t need your help.

Well, that was what he heard, anyway. Logan probably would have phrased it rather more robotically. Hopefully, neither Virgil nor Remus had noticed anything at all.

None of them said much as Virgil guided them a few steps away from the costume shop and Remus pulled a water bottle from the car to sluice down the pavement, and Logan gradually seemed to regain enough strength that he didn’t need to lean on the wall. He still looked concerningly pale, the rather ugly lighting giving him the pallor of a corpse, but at least the green tint had faded from his cheeks.

By the time Virgil spoke up, maybe fifteen minutes later, Roman was shivering and his teeth were chattering so hard he was certain they were about to shatter. Remus had vanished into the alley between Staker’s and the sofa shop on the other side. “Are you feeling good enough to get going again? It’ll probably only be another ten minutes or so, and I’ll open the windows for you.”

Taking a slow breath, this one far more natural than the deep inhalations from earlier, Logan nodded. “I will be able to manage that.” He didn’t move back toward the car until Virgil had walked past him to the mouth of the alley.

“Remus! If you’re not in the car in thirty seconds we’re leaving without you!” There was a curse and the sound of shuffling. “And you’re not bringing any garbage into my car.”

Another curse, and then a complaint that Remus ignored. Roman smiled again - even despite the gooseflesh turning his arms into a mountain range and the gradually freezing bits of puke that Remus had been unable to wash away, there was nowhere he would rather be than here with his brothers again.

Except for maybe at home with his brothers. And some dinner. Having slept in and then slept through lunch, all he had eaten today had been a sandwich he’d grabbed before heading to baggage collection, and it was doing little to fill him up.

“Are you sure you’re alright?” He had dropped his voice a little, and his hand rose again to hover uncertainly by Logan’s shoulder as the pair of them returned to the car.

“Your brothers cannot hear us. There is no need to act concerned now.” Logan’s words were nearly drowned out by the argument Virgil and Remus were having, but they still met Roman’s ears as he slipped into the car.

“What?”

“I said,” Logan climbed into his seat, closed his eyes, then pulled the door shut behind him and moved to buckle in. “You do not have to pretend to care whilst there is nobody to see.”

“I - what?”

Now Logan looked slightly put out. He snapped his seatbelt into place. “Do you really need that translated for you? How about-”

“Logan, of course I care!” Roman grabbed for his own seatbelt, but it took several tries to slide the buckle into place because he was staring at his… Well, maybe friend was the wrong word. Logan was sitting bolt upright again, silhouetted by the pale light outside. “You just threw up on my shoes!”

“I missed your shoes.” The temperature in the car seemed to drop past that of the street outside at Logan’s tone.

“That isn’t - I don’t care about my shoes, Logan!” Roman backpedalled frantically. “I’m worried about you!”

The corners of Logan’s mouth twitched ever so slightly. “You really are a good actor.”

And that was when Remus threw himself into the passenger seat, cutting off any chance Roman had of coming up with a response. It looked as though Remus had won his fight with Virgil, because he was clutching what looked like a bronze cast of the Statue of Liberty, its head replaced with that of a taxidermied goat. The whole thing seemed to be covered in some sort of slime; Remus was very careful not to allow it or his hands to touch any part of Virgil’s car.

“Seatbelt.” Virgil slid into his seat and turned the key in the ignition, then lowered all of the windows.

“You said not to touch your baby,” Remus singsonged.

“Go fuck yourself.” Leaning over, Virgil did Remus’ seatbelt for him. Then he put the car into gear and pulled out.

---

Virgil point blank refused to allow Logan to carry his bags inside when they got home. Despite the student’s arguments that he was perfectly capable of carrying his own luggage from a car to a house, all three of them could see that he had lost all the colour he had regained in their brief stop, and the argument didn’t take long.

“I’ll take these upstairs for you. Roman’s gonna introduce you to mom, and you can decide what you wanna do after that.” Virgil pulled Logan’s suitcase from the trunk and started walking, leaving Roman to brave the uncomfortable silence between him and the guy he was supposedly dating and who apparently liked him less than he had thought.

Remus had disappeared the moment the car stopped, presumably to wash both his hands and his prize of the gunk accumulated from nobody-knew-how-long in the trash.

Logan’s knuckles were white around the strap of his satchel as the pair of them walked up the porch steps, breath misting in the evening air. Roman wanted to say something to reassure him; knowing how Logan would take it, he stayed quiet until the front door had closed behind them. Warmth wrapped around him like a hug, accompanied by the smell of frying herbs and melting cheese.

“Mom?”

“Roman!” There was the sound of footsteps from the kitchen, and then Roman’s mother rounded the corner, beaming.

Marta Prince was shorter than all of her sons, but that didn’t stop her from hugging Roman so enthusiastically that his feet left the floor. “You’ve been growing, pequeño, I told you to stop that! You’re going to leave me in the dust at this rate!” When she finally put him down, Roman rubbed at his ribs - years of working in the shop had left her muscular and her hugs only seemed to grow more crushing the longer he went without them.

“It’s only been a few months! Besides, Vee’s only an inch taller than you - we’re not all going to tower over you. Unless you’ve started shrinking already?” He held a hand over her curls, pretending to measure her against the wall, and was startled to see threads of white mixed with the once-scarlet strands. When had that happened? “Nope, you’re just as tall as ever. Dinner smells awesome, mom, I’m famished!”

“Well, you’re not getting any until you introduce me to your new boyfriend!” She batted his hand away, turning toward the door - no, turning toward Logan. Roman winced. In the space of a few seconds, he had managed to forget that he had brought him home with him. “Hello, dear. I’m Marta, I’m so glad to meet you! Roman’s told us almost nothing about you - you’re a tall one, aren’t you? I love your hair, how long have you been growing it?”

Logan just about had enough time to blink before he was being swept into a tight hug, then released and pulled down so he was stooping, Marta’s hands on his shoulders as she studied his face.

“You’re looking peaky. Rough journey? Roman used to get so sick on long car rides! When he was four he hurled all over Virgil - he had really long hair then, it took three hours to wash it all out! I’m still not sure if he ever forgave you for that, did he, love?”

“Mom, c’mon…”

“Now that you mention it, I didn’t, did I?” Roman glanced up: Virgil was leaning over the side of the banister, clearly having dropped Logan’s suitcase already. “Mom, come on, give the guy some space. Did you see where Remus went?”

Releasing Logan, Marta gestured toward the downstairs bathroom at the end of the hall. "He's washing up. Virgil, will you lay the table? Roman, take your things upstairs - I'll not have you cluttering up my hallway. Logan, dear, can I get you a drink? I hope you like meatballs - it's a family recipe we've been doing for years. This way…"

"Um. Actually." Were those the first words he'd spoken since Virgil had won the right to carry his stuff in from the car? Roman frowned and peered at Logan again, suddenly seeing the way his shoulders, while not slumped by normal standards, were far from their usual stiff squareness. Exhaustion was written over every part of Logan's usually perfect posture; a few strands of hair had even left his ponytail, probably from where Roman had tried to hold it out of the way. Something cold and squirmy and very much like guilt formed in Roman's stomach. How had he failed to notice how tired Logan was?

"Unless you're vegetarian! Roman, you should have told me - don't worry, I can-"

"I’m not. Vegetarian, that is. I’m just…” Logan inhaled slowly. A wobbly smile that looked as though it was about to collapse worked its way onto his face. “I’m really, really tired. Flying takes a lot out of me. Thank you so much for making dinner, Mrs. Prince, but I would really appreciate the opportunity to wash up and get some rest.”

He really did look as though he were about to cry. Roman could see it; his mother could obviously see it. She clucked sympathetically. “Of course. We just want you to be comfortable here, alright? If you get hungry in the night, help yourself to anything in the fridge. And Logan, please - it’s Marta.” Logan nodded, and she turned to Roman as Virgil squeezed past the three of them - there really wasn’t enough room in the hallway for a gathering. “Ro, your room’s all ready. Show him the bathroom and stuff, we’ll have everything plated by the time you get down. Chop chop!”

“I - yeah.” Roman kissed her cheek and she pushed his shoulder gently in the direction of the staircase before vanishing back into the kitchen, leaving Roman with a sinking feeling in his gut. “Logan, uh… This way.” He gestured, then grabbed his suitcase. Fighting to get it up the narrow staircase was hugely preferable to dwelling on the information that had just occurred to him. “I’ll give you the abbreviated tour.”

A nod.

There were four doors on the upstairs landing, and a ladder leaning against one wall. Roman pointed at that first. “Remus used to sleep in the attic. It’s all storage space now, don’t worry - he’ll be going home after dinner. Lives with his partner in an apartment closer to the city centre.” There was a broken rung at the bottom of the ladder, the once-white splintery edges now the same dull brown as the rest of the thing. Roman took a breath, then pointed at a door covered in black and purple checks. It didn’t fit with the rest of the ocean-blue theme of the upstairs hallway, but they hadn’t repainted it after Virgil moved out. “Vee’s room. Well, it’s technically the guest room now, but given that Virgil’s here for a few days, he’s got it back. You wouldn’t like the decor in there anyway!”

A frown creased Logan’s forehead. “Roman…”

“That’s mom’s room!” Roman pointed quickly at the door at the far end of the hallway, facing the front of the house, then at the door halfway along the wall. “And that’s the bathroom! Shower, bathtub, sink, toilet, medicine cabinet, the works! Try not to use all the hot water, especially in the mornings - if Virgil hasn’t changed his habits, which I doubt, he likes routine, that’s when he showers, and he’s super grumpy if he has to have cold showers, you really don’t want to see that!”

“Roman, if Virgil is using the guest room-”

“And this,” Roman spoke over the growing suspicion in Logan’s voice, something between panic and hilarity rising up his throat. “This is my room!” He crossed to the door nearest them, one decorated with crowns, shields, and theatre masks in hand-stencilled gold paint, and threw it open. “Great view of the driveway, loads of space, amazing decor if I do say so myself, and-”

“Only one bed.”

Roman had a feeling that Logan was keeping his voice deliberately emotionless - or maybe he was still feeling too bad to be properly angry.

"Um, yeah, but - it's a double! And it's got so many pillows, it's so comfortable!" Logan's expression didn't change, and Roman shifted uncomfortably. "Look, Logan, I… I'm really sorry. It didn't even occur to me until, like, right now, two minutes ago, I would have told you if you'd have remembered. I totally get it if you're mad, you can leave if you like, I can drive you back to the airport or whatever, or - or if you want to stay, I'll sleep on the floor - or I'm sure Virgil wouldn't mind swapping, you could have the guest room, we used to share all the time when we were younger, they shouldn't have just assumed we'd be - y'know - I should have thought of it. I'm sorry."

Logan’s suitcase had been put neatly at the foot of the bed, the navy blue standing out against the red carpet and crimson sheets like the ugly duckling in the children’s story. Its owner was silent as he studied the room for another few moments; then he made a resigned noise in the back of his throat, crossed the room, and picked up the cylindrical cushion that was slightly too long for the armchair Roman had forced it into.

“What are you doing?”

Logan put it on the bed, creating a soft wall right down the middle that started just below the pillows and ended around where Roman’s knees would go, then sat on one side. “I see no reason to disturb your brother, and sleeping on the floor for an extended period of time will have a detrimental effect on your spine and posture.” He pointed at the side of the bed he was sat on. “I will sleep here.” He pointed at the other side. “You will sleep there.” He pointed at the cushion. “Cross this line, and I go back to California.”

“You know, I really don’t mind sleeping on the floor, there’s no need for-”

“I’m just trying to make this as painless as possible, both in the literal terms of our own comfort, and in the metaphorical terms of telling a simple lie to your family. It does not make logical sense for you to sleep on the floor.” He even sounded exhausted, as though he were about to fall asleep halfway through his explanation.

“It makes sense because I don’t think you’re really comfortable with it!” Logan glanced up at the shrill note in Roman’s voice, and he glanced quickly over his shoulder to make sure nobody had heard before dropping to a quieter tone. “You’re doing a huge thing for me, and I want you to at least feel comfortable while you’re here - I’m sleeping on the floor.”

“Fine.” Logan rubbed his hands slowly over his face. Several more strands of hair worked their way loose. Standing, he crossed to his suitcase and removed the travel padlock on the zip. “I’m too tired to argue. I’m going to take a shower - I’ll probably be asleep by the time you come up.”

“I’ll be quiet,” Roman promised, and Logan nodded in response. “Towels are on the rack in the bathroom. They should be fresh, but you can grab one out of the cupboard next to it if you prefer.”

“Thank you.” The words were stiff and flat.

Roman hovered in the doorway a moment longer, then went back downstairs, wondering how Logan had managed to make him feel like the bad guy for offering to sleep somewhere else.

When he returned to his room hours later, having eaten pasta and cheese-stuffed meatballs until he was stuffed (trying very hard not to laugh at Remus’ spaghetti-and-tomato-sauce-aided impression of a mindflayer), and then still found room for the vinetta his mom had dug out of the freezer and the chocolates that Virgil had handed out after Remus had gone home and the three of them were watching a couple of episodes of the crime show that had become Marta’s new passion, it was dark and quiet. Logan didn’t stir as he pulled the spare blankets from the bottom of his wardrobe and spread them on the floor, or when he pulled the two pillows from the unoccupied side of the bed and threw them down with the blankets. He changed in the bathroom; as he closed his bedroom door behind him, Logan made a quiet mumbling sound and rolled over slightly, pulling the duvet cover so that he was almost completely hidden beneath it.

It wasn’t just the discomfort of lying on the floor or the fact that he had slept most of the journey there that had Roman struggling to fall asleep that night.

Taglist - @canvas-the-florist

#LittleRedLies #Fake dating au

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shibe-myths · 1 year ago

Note

How old are the Ro's and Mc?

Personally, when I play games I usually visualize the MC as being mid to late twenties. But, in Lich Gate, you have the option to choose your own age (Well three options). It's never going to be confirmed how old the actual MC is until after the demo. HOWEVER, During the prologue, you can choose how 'old' you think your MC is.

Young (late teens - early twenties)

Adult (Midtwenties - early thirties)

Middle-aged (early thirties - late forties)

The confirmed age will be a written answer during a certain scene.

As for the ROs Appearance ages | actual age

#lich gate #lichgate #choice of games #lichask #if games #ask #interactive fiction #sneak peek #peri #laz #ladyb #bernie #bishop #indigo #amyntas #asha #lace #ribbon #stranger

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emy-loves-you · 4 years ago

Text

Wrong Numbers and Useless Gays (Chapter 7)

Happy Halloween!

Warning: Minor burns

Chapter 6 | Masterlist | Chapter 8

V- (8:04 AM) Happy first day of Halloween!

L- (8:05 AM) Virgil, it’s October 1st. Halloween isn’t for another 30 days.

V- (8:05 AM) We must be celebrating different holidays. Halloween lasts from October 1st to October 31st. For the entire month, you watch cheesy Halloween movies and decorate your home in black, purple, and orange. Spiders and bats become your daily esthetic. There are no exceptions to this rule.

P- (8:06 AM) I have arachnophobia and most of our decorations are green. Is that alright, Kiddo?

V- (8:06 AM) … There is one exception.

L- (8:07 AM) This is preposterous.

R- (8:07 AM) Calm down, Specs. Let our Dark and Stormy Knight have his holiday. We don’t want another incident of Pi Day, do we?

V- (8:08 AM) What happened on Pi Day?

P- (8:08 AM) Logan wanted to spend the day memorizing as many digits of Pi as possible. Roman told him that Pi day was only for baking pies. Logan decided to etch as many digits of pi as he could fit into the crust of a pie before baking it. Sadly, baking isn’t Lolo’s exPIEtise.

R- (8:09 AM) He almost burnt the house down. It was hilarious.

L- (8:09 AM) I will back down from this argument, if only to preserve my dignity. Since you decided to text us at 8 AM, I assume that you have plans to celebrate your “first day of Halloween?”

V- (8:10 AM) Yep. I’ve got my Scooby-Doo VHS tapes, an entire gallon of iced coffee, and enough decorations to cover every square inch of my house. Life is good.

R- (8:11 AM) Wait which tapes?

V- (8:11 AM) Zombie Island, Witch’s Ghost, Alien Invaders, and Cyber Chase. The 4 best Scooby-Doo movies to ever exist.

R- (8:12 AM) Now I REALLY wanna watch Scooby-Doo

V- (8:12 AM) What’s stopping you?

L- (8:12 AM) The desire to have a stable income

R- (8:13 AM) I’m starring as Van Helsing for our theatre’s production of Dracula. I’ve got rehearsals and performances almost every night.

V- (8:13 AM) Sorry. I’ll watch it in your stead.

R- (8:14 AM) Gee, how thoughtful of you

(October 8th)

L- (2:32 PM) Virgil, did you seriously buy MORE chocolates?

V- (2:32 PM) Do you like them?

L- (2:32 PM) That’s not the point.

L- (2:33 PM) This is the 7th set of sweets you’ve sent us in the past 8 weeks. First of all, this is extremely unhealthy. Second of all, how much money have you spent on these? Third of all, you tend to send chocolates specifically when you’re planning something that we disapprove of. So what, pray tell, are you planning this time?

V- (2:34 PM) Wow, I didn’t realize you were keeping track of that.

L- (2:34 PM) I keep track of everything. Quit ignoring the questions.

V- (2:35 PM) Okay. First of all, if they make you happy it doesn’t matter. Second of all, if it makes you happy it doesn’t matter. Third of all, if it makes you happy it doesn’t matter :)

L- (2:35 PM) …

V- (2:35 PM) Besides, you wouldn’t want me to STOP sending you sweets, would you?

L- (2:36 PM) … Curse you and your knowledge of my sweets addiction.

V- (2:36 PM) :)

(October 15th)

L- (5:47 PM) VIRGIL!

V- (5:48 PM) Hm?

L- (5:48 PM) DID YOU SERIOUSLY TP OUR HOUSE?!?!?

V- (5:49 PM) You have no proof

L- (5:50 PM) [*Photo Attachment*]

[The photo is of a door. There is a square of TP taped to the door, the words “VIRGIL WAS TOTALLY NOT HERE” written in sharpie]

V- (5:50 PM) See? I was totally not there.

V- (5:51 PM) And I sent you pre-apology chocolates, so you can’t get mad!

L- (5:52 PM) I CAN STILL GET MAD

V- (5:52 PM) NO YOU WON’T OR I’LL STOP GETTING YOU CHOCOLATES

L- (5:53 PM) YOU WOULDN’T

V- (5:53 PM) TRY ME BITCH

R- (5:55 PM) I don’t know WHAT you did, but Logan called me, screeched your name, and hung up. Keep up the good work, storm cloud ;)

(October 22nd)

V- (3:42 PM) Hey Pat?

P- (3:42 PM) What’s up, Kiddo?

V- (3:42 PM) You bake, right?

P- (3:43 PM) It would be very hard to run a bakery if I couldn’t, Kiddo!

V- (3:43 PM) True

V- (3:43 PM) So what do you do if your cookies catch on fire?

P- (3:43 PM) WHAT

V- (3:44 PM) [*Photo Attachment*]

[The photo is of an oven. The door is open, and inside is a tray of Pillsbury ghost sugar cookies. They are all on fire]

P- (3:44 PM) PUT IT OUT

V- (3:44 PM) HOW

P- (3:45 PM) DON’T YOU HAVE A FIRE EXTINGUISHER?!?!

V- (3:45 PM) WON’T THAT RUIN THE COOKIES?

P- (3:45 PM) THOSE COOKIES ARE GONERS. ACCEPT YOUR LOSS

V- (3:46 PM) [*Photo attachment*]

[The photo is of the same oven. The door is still open, yet the entire inside of the oven is covered in foam]

V- (3:46 PM) Now what?

P- (3:46 PM) First of all, turn off the oven.

V- (3:47 PM) Done

P- (3:47 PM) Okay. Now answer me this: HOW THE FUDGE DID YOU MANAGE TO CATCH PREMADE SUGAR COOKIES ON FIRE???

V- (3:48 PM) I DON’T KNOW! I JUST PUT THEM IN THE OVEN AND SUDDENLY THEY WERE ON FIRE

L- (3:48 PM) Are you alright, Virgil? Did you sustain any burns or other injuries?

P- (3:48 PM) HOLY STARS I SHOULD’VE ASKED! ARE YOU OKAY VIRGIL?

V- (3:49 PM) I’m fine. I burned my wrist but it’s not that bad.

L- (3:49 PM) Will you please send a picture of your injury?

V- (3:49 PM) [*Photo attachment*]

[The photo is of a left hand. The hand is long, slender, and pale. The nails are long and painted black with cat noses and whiskers. The person’s wrist has a minor burn wound, around the size of a golf ball]

L- (3:50 PM) You are correct, Virgil. It appears to be a minor burn, no need to contact the hospital. However, I would greatly appreciate it if you tend to your burn at your earliest convenience.

P- (3:50 PM) Go wrap up that burn, kiddo! Make sure you add burn cream, too!

P- (3:51 PM) AND OH MY GOSH I LOVE YOUR NAILS! They’re PAWsitively PURRfect!

L- (3:51 PM) Please stop

P- (3:52 PM) Alright. Wouldn’t wanna have a CATastrophe, would we?

L- (3:52 PM) Please. I beg of you.

V- (3:53 PM) Okay, all patched up. What do I do about my cookies?

L- (3:53 PM) Make sure your oven has fully cooled down before attempting to clean it.

P- (3:54 PM) AND DON’T DO THAT EVER AGAIN, MISTER!

P- (3:54 PM) You nearly gave me a heart attack!

V- (3:55 PM) Sorry, won’t happen again.

L- (3:55 PM) I assume that this means you will be buying post-apology sweets? I assure you that it is unnecessary, Virgil. Your health and safety are more important than confectionaries.

L- (3:57 PM) Virgil?

L- (3:57 PM) Please refrain from buying more sweets.

L- (3:58 PM) I’ve already gained 3.4 pounds alone from these “Gifts”

V- (3:58 PM) Too late, already bought them

P- (3:58 PM) You don’t have to, Kiddo!

P- (3:59 PM) And Lolo, don’t blame V on your weight gain. I know Ro’s not the only one sneaking whole jars of jelly from the cabinets at night.

L- (3:59 PM) Virgil, how much are you spending on these sweets?

V- (4:00 PM) Would it help if I said that I get a discount since I purchase chocolates almost weekly?

L- (4:00 PM) VIRGIL

V- (4:01 PM) :)

R- (6:58 PM) Why does all the interesting stuff happen while I’m at work?

V- (6:59 PM) Get wrecked Princey

R- (6:59 PM) :(

V- (7:00 PM) Don’t worry I got you sweets too

R- (7:00 PM) :)

(October 24th)

L- (2:32 PM) VIRGIL!

V- (2:33 PM) Did you get your sweets? Send me a pick! I didn’t get to see the end result

P- (2:33 PM) [*Photo Attachment*]

[The photo is of three vases, each of different colors. The light blue vase is filled with tulips made of white chocolate. There are also chocolate-covered straberry and a giant chocolate lollipop with the words “I appreciate you a chocoLOT!” The red vase is filled with milk chocolate roses and another chocolate lollipop that says “Good luck slaying Vampires!” The navy blue vase is the most elaborate (probably just to mess with Logan). It’s filled with dark chocolate tulips AND roses, with a whole jar of crofters nestled into the middle of the bouquet. It’s lollipop reads “Weight and Cost are just #s!”]

P- (2:34 PM) These are ADORABLE, Virgil!

L- (2:34 PM) How much did you spend on this, Virgil?

V- (2:34 PM) Did you not read your lollipop?

V- (2:35 PM) Don’t worry about it, I wouldn’t buy the chocolates if I couldn’t afford them :)

L- (2:35 PM) My digestive system can’t afford them.

V- (2:36 PM) Well I couldn’t give you pre-apology chocolates so I had to give you epic post-apology chocolates.

P- (2:37 PM) Well, I cannot wait to eat these! Seriously, I’ve already eaten half a tulip. And these vases will look so pretty holding ACTUAL flowers! Thank you so much, V! But remember, you don’t have to do this. We don’t need apology sweets!

V- (2:38 PM) I know, but it’s comforting to know that there’s at least ONE way I can interact with you guys beyond texting. I’m sorry that I’m still not comfortable talking face-to-face yet.

P- (2:38 PM) That’s completely fine, Kiddo! Take all the time you need. We’ll be here when you’re ready.

L- (2:39 PM) I agree.Though I still do not see the purpose of excessive spending on our behalf.

R- (2:39 PM) Well I find it extremely thoughtful, storm cloud. I would type an entire ballad of how caring and kind you are, but I must get back to work. I shall speak with you tonight, fair raven.

V- (2:40 PM) Thanks, guys. It means a lot to me.

(October 31st)

L- (10:17 AM) How are you feeling about your “final day of Halloween,” Virgil?

V- (10:18 AM) Incredibly depressed

P- (10:18 AM) Aww. Why’s that, Kiddo?

V- (10:19 AM) You guys know how I travel around with my friends, right?

V- (10:19 AM) Well apparently we have to travel out today. We won’t be back until tomorrow afternoon.

R- (10:20 AM) I’m deeply sorry, my precious stormcloud. If I may ask, why do you have to travel tonight?

V- (10:20 AM) My friends like to go to parties out of town, and I go to make sure they don’t get themselves killed.

P- (10:21 AM) I’m sorry you have to miss Halloween, Kiddo. I know how much you were looking forward to it.

V- (10:22 AM) I’m still gonna wear my costume. Just because I can’t celebrate at home doesn’t mean I can’t celebrate at all.

L- (10:22 AM) What costume have you decided to wear?

V- (10:23 AM) [*Photo attachment*]

[Photo is the bottom half of someone’s face. They’re smiling, with black lipstick and fake Vampire teeth. There’s red liquid running down their chin.]

P- (10:23 AM) That looks FANGtastic, Virgil!

L- (10:23 AM) I hope you have an amenable experience at the party, Virgil.

R- (10:24 AM) I agree! You look amazing and I hope you enjoy the party, storm cloud. Do not worry, I will watch The Nightmare Before Christmas in your stead!

V- (10:25 AM) Wow I feel so grateful

R- (10:25 AM) :)

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

Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @itawalrus @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst

#sanders sides fic #useless gays #LAMP fic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders

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teacupfulofstarshine · 4 years ago

Text

but i make these high heels work

summary: roman has something new that he wants to try out, but he’s nervous about his family’s reactions. he needn’t be; they’ve always got his back.

(OR: a birthday fic for roman sanders, set in my moxiety dad au)

a/n: i’m jumping on @notveryglittery‘s “giving the gay everything he wants” agenda. happy birthday roman sanders!!!

cw: anxiety, mild angst, fear of homophobia

wordcount: ~1.8k

read it on ao3!!

Roman carefully smooths his hands over the fabric spread out across his bed. He knows that no one else is awake yet. Not even Logan, who routinely wakes up early because apparently he can run on crumbs of sleep and nothing else. Not even Dad, the earliest riser out of all of them, since he doesn’t have any pressing appointments. No one is awake but Roman.

He’d tossed and turned all night, barely snatching a few hours. He knows he’s going to regret that later, but he also knows that there’s nothing particularly important happening today, so Papa and Dad will be more lenient if he decides to nap. So, rather than waiting until later to roll out of bed, Roman gets up a good hour before anyone else. He makes his bed - properly, this time, pulling off the excess of blankets and pillows and stuffed animals and tucking his thick quilt in. He never has the time or the willpower to make it in the mornings, but today.

Well.

Today, he has anticipation thrumming in his chest like caught lightning, and he needs something to do with his hands.

Roman showers, quietly. The bathroom is between his room and Logan’s, and there’s always the off chance that the water running will wake up his lightweight-sleeper brother. He holds his breath, keeping in all the melodies that usually bubble from his mouth in the shower, and is rewarded with no signs of wakefulness from his brother.

He doesn’t bother to wash his hair, so he doesn’t have to worry about blow-drying his fluffy curls. Instead, he spritzes them with dry shampoo he stole from his Papa and combs through them with his fingers. It takes him about fifteen minutes to get them to just the right state of artfully tousled, but it still doesn’t waste nearly enough time.

Which brings him to here, sitting cross-legged on his perfectly-made bed, staring at the fabric spread across his quilt. It’s plain, compared to what he usually wears, but he supposes that’s the trouble with borrowed clothing. Adding to all that, it’s not real clothing; it’s an old prop he’d salvaged from a box of costumes destined to be torn apart and repurposed. He kind of wishes he had the courage to ask Dad or Papa to take him to the mall to buy a proper one, but he’s never been that kind of brave.

Roman fiddles with the hem of the skirt between his fingers.

It’s red, at the very least, but not the proper shade of red. It’s garish and bright, like a firetruck, like a cartoon bloodstain. It comes down to about Roman’s knees, hanging in loose folds, and it’s not the most comfortable thing he’s ever worn, but he loves it. He loves the way the fabric feels when it swishes around his knees, he loves the way it flares out when he spins in circles, he loves the way it feels to smooth the fabric beneath him in a single fluid motion when he sits down.

He’s terrified to wear it out of the comfort of his bedroom, but he figures that today, June first, the first day of pride month, is as good a day as any to come out of the closet. Roman sighs, curling his hands into loose fists on his thighs.

His phone pings with a notification, and Roman almost falls off his bed as he scrambles forward to snatch his cell phone off his desk. He takes a moment to smile at his home screen photo before answering the message: it’s a picture of himself and Janus from last year’s pride festival. They’re wrapped in a rainbow flag like a cape, leaning their heads together and laughing. Janus has a genderqueer flag painted across his cheek, and Roman has rainbow star stickers across his nose and a rainbow bandanna tying back his hair.

Roman thumbprints his phone open and checks his messages. It’s from Janus himself.

[7:41 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): you’re going to do wonderfully, dearest. your family loves you, and they’ll support you no matter what. and even if they don’t, i support you no matter what. i love you <3

Roman wiggles his feet back and forth eagerly in a gleeful stim as he taps out a response.

[7:43 am] me: thank you, snove (snake love). ily2 <3

[7:44 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): are you ever going to stop calling me snake-themed nicknames, beloved?

[7:44 am] me: sno (snake no)

[7:46 am] snoyfriend (snake boyfriend): i hate you <3

[7:47 am] me: i snove (snake love) you too <3 <3

*~*~*~*~*

Someone knocks on his door around 8:45. “Ro? Are you coming down to breakfast? I’m making pridecakes!” Dad calls. Roman’s stomach growls at the thought; every year, Dad makes multiple colors of homemade pancake batter and draws pride-flag pancakes on the griddle.

“I’ll be down in a minute!” Roman says.

“Okay, kiddo!”

Roman takes a deep breath. He slides off his bed and shimmies out of his pajama pants. Rummaging around in his drawers, he pulls out a white t-shirt with a swooping golden outline of the Disney castle on the front. Carefully, he steps into the puddle of skirt and tugs the red fabric up over his hips. It’s not a perfect fit, but it comes down to his knees. Roman studies himself in the full-length mirror on the inside of his closet.

“It’s going to be okay,” he sighs, reaching for the rainbow bandana on his desk. He folds it and ties it to form a headband which he uses to push his bangs off his forehead. “It’s going to be okay. Dad and Papa aren’t going to hate you. Thomas and Logan aren’t going to hate you. It’s going to be okay.”

Roman waits until he hears Logan and Thomas go downstairs before he leaves. He picks up his phone, glances at the photo of himself and Janus one more time, and then steps into the hallway.

He lurks on the stairs for a moment, glancing into the kitchen. Logan is sleepily gnawing on a bagel slathered with jam. Papa is pouring coffee into a row of mugs while Thomas helps Dad with the pridecakes. Roman grips his skirt tightly in his hands, watching his family, and then he steps into the kitchen.

“Morning.”

“Good morn - oh!” Dad whirls around, holding a spatula which he quickly foists off onto Thomas. He hurries forward, taking Roman’s shoulders, eyes scanning up and down his outfit. “That’s new! Where’d you get it?”

“It’s an old costume skirt,” Roman says. “Is that - am I - do you -”

Dad smiles, eyes crinkling up as he leans in to kiss Roman’s forehead. “I think you look wonderful, Roman. No matter what you choose to wear.” Roman smiles, hugging his dad tightly. He feels Dad reach up and press a hand into the back of his hair, rocking them back and forth a little as they hug.

When Dad pulls away, Roman’s eyes jump up to Thomas. He grins, flashing a thumbs up, and Roman shakily offers one back. “Nice skirt,” Papa says, wrapping an arm around Roman’s shoulders and pulling him in. Roman feels Papa press a kiss to the top of his head, and he fights to keep himself from crying.

Roman turns, looking at the only family member who hasn’t said anything yet. Logan is still placidly chewing his bagel, watching Roman with his typical calmness. “Logan?” Roman hates the way his voice shakes a little. “Do you like it?”

Logan swallows and sets his bagel down. He scans over Roman’s outfit with a strange critical expression and says, “No. It looks completely wrong on you.”

Roman’s heart sinks to the bottom of his chest. Logan stands up, scanning over Roman repeatedly, frowning as he stares at the skirt. “Logan,” Dad says warningly.

Logan keeps talking. “That is the wrong color for your skin tone. It does not compliment the tan you always achieve in the summer months. The shape is unflattering on your body type, and the material is -” Logan reaches out and rubs the material between two fingers, shuddering. “- is entirely unpleasant. This skirt is completely wrong for you.”

Roman recognizes the glint in his brother’s eye as he examines the skirt with a critical eye. It’s the way he looks at pieces of clothing that the theater department asks him to help tailor. “You would look much nicer in a circle or handkerchief style skirt. That red is hideous, you need a darker shade. I think that dark green would also look nice on you.”

“You . . . aren’t mad about me wearing a skirt?”

Logan blinks at him. “To quote that Avatar show you like so much, ‘Pants are an illusion and so is death.’ Gender is a social construct and clothing should not be dependent on the genitalia you were born with. I do not care if you wish to wear a skirt or not, Roman. Why would I care?”

“I was nervous about wearing a skirt because I thought you would judge me.” Logan takes a few steps closer, offering a small smile, and Roman feels his heart start to swell and rise like a balloon.

“I was not judging you for wearing a skirt, Roman. If you would prefer to wear a skirt, I will support you, always. I did not mean to imply otherwise. I merely meant to offer my assistance because that skirt looks uncomfortable.”

“It really is,” Roman sighs. “I stole it from a box of outgoing props.”

“Go put comfortable clothes on,” Logan tells him. “I am going to the fabric store with Dad later today. I will take your measurements and you can come with us to find a fabric you like. I will make you a skirt that actually fits you.”

“You’d do that for me?!”

“Skirts are relatively simple garments to sew, provided you get the measurements correct. I cannot promise that it will be perfect, but I will work to make sure that it is comfortable and flattering on your form.” Roman bounces eagerly. “Can I hug you?”

Logan tilts his head, considering. “Ten seconds,” he decides, which is more than enough time. Roman pulls his brother into a hug, feeling Logan’s hand flap back and forth against his bag as he happily stims.

“I love you, Logan,” Roman says, squeezing him tightly. Logan hums at the pressure, pushing closer to his brother before leaning backwards to signal that he’s done being hugged. Roman lets him go, settling down at the table. He can change after breakfast.

(Two weeks later, Roman comes downstairs in a dark red circle skirt embroidered with golden stars and detailing. Logan hums, flapping and rocking happily when he sees Roman twirl around and show off the way the skirt flares around his thighs.

“It’s perfect, it’s perfect, I love it so much!” Roman squeals. “Thank you, Logan!”

Logan flaps even more in response.)

#starshinewrites #little and broken but still good #happy birthday roman sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #janus sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #platonic tlamp #brotherly logince #romantic roceit

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