intruloceitweek

[intruloceitweek]

[intruloceitweek]

Welcome to the new home for Loceit Week!

More info on a schedule, prompts, and future plans are coming soon. In the meantime, enjoy a deluge of art and stories of the sssimply besst ship out there.

-Mods Crow (@thecrowslullaby), Nici (@naminethewitch) & Edu (@edupunkn00b)

[intruloceitweek]

Do It for Logan!

Artist Choice forms close on May 15th!

Sign up today as an Artist for the TSS Storytime Big Bang!

[intruloceitweek]

Janus Doesn't Want You

Calling all artists!

Janus says whatever you do, don't join the TSS Storytime Big Bang!

[intruloceitweek]

Sighted at Ikea

[intruloceitweek]

A very fine matchmaker indeed.

On a Butterfly's Wing, Ch. 20: Commencement Means the Start

Epilogue - Thirteen months and nine days later

WC: 3900 - Rated: T - CW: life goes on, nearly completely fluff. These bois get their happy ending.

Prev - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Friday, June 13, 2026

💙💚Intrulogical

Timer still beeping, Logan had just pulled the tray of roasted vegetables from the oven when he spotted Remus’ car pull up into the driveway. Good. Back before dark, at least. The engine cut and Patton spilled out of the driver’s seat, excited voice floating in through the open window.

“And you really think Ms. Forth liked my model?” He waited for Remus to climb out of the passenger seat and closed the door, then consciously tapped the ‘lock’ button, watching the lights flash.

Leaning over the hood, Remus nodded, proud smile beaming bright even from Logan’s vantage point inside. “Even the interns are allowed to call the big boss Olivia,” he laughed. “It’s okay.”

“But I thought you owned the—“

Remus laughed, finger held over his lips. “Not even Olive knows that. And yes, your design knocked her socks off!”

Logan waved from the window as they turned toward the house and Patton called back, “Dad! You gotta hear this! They’re gonna use my model in the demo at Pax!”

“That’s fantastic!” Logan cheered. “Why don’t you two come on in and tell me all about it!”

💙❤️Logince

“You got this, Lo.”

Ro’s gentle encouragement in his ears, Logan flicked his wrist, and watched the paper-thin crepe flip up into the air—and come splattering down on the stove top. Turning off the burner and scraping the mess away from the element before it could ignite, Logan laughed. “The stove has certainly got it, at least.”

Smiling, Ro, pulled him close. “Hey, not bad for your third try.” Logan raised a skeptical eyebrow. “Not great,” he admitted with a laugh. “But not bad.”

Happily accepting a consolatory kiss, Logan melted in his arms. “I think if we wish to have our dinner sometime tonight, you should take over this step.”

“One more try,” Ro encouraged, turning him around to face the stove again and reaching past him to turn on the burner. “Just one more try.”

“Hey, Dad? Ro? You got a minute? Well…”

Eyes darting over to Ro’s, Logan found matching worry at the tone in Patton’s voice.

“Of course, Pat,” Logan said and turned off the stove.

Patton stood in the hallway, fingers gripping his phone. “Um… Jax is on their way here, I… I know I should’ve talked to you first, and this is a really big thing to ask for and I shouldn't just spring this on you but everything’s happening so fast and they're scared and don't know what else to do and—“

“Whoa there, bud,” Ro soothed, drawing him in to the kitchen. “Slow down. What’s happened?”

Nodding, Logan pulled out a chair. “Whatever’s going on, Patton, we’ll figure it out together.”

Patton let out a slow breath before nodding and meeting their eyes. “Jax, um… Jax told their parents and, well…”

Three sets of eyes shot to the front hall when the doorbell rang.

“Can they stay here?” Patton asked, wincing. “They’re nineteen, they just only have a part-time job and, that asshole Max won’t even talk to them since they told him and now their parents…” He shook his head. “They just need—“

Logan was already on his feet. He squeezed Patton’s shoulder as he passed. “You did the right thing, Pat.”

Together, they opened the door. Eyes red-rimmed, with a backpack slung over their shoulder and an overflowing Ikea bag clutched with both hands, Jax looked up at them from the porch.

They’d just begun to show.

Smiling, Logan reached for the bag. “Come on in, Jax,” he said. “Welcome home.”

💙💚💛Intruloceit

Logan ended the call with Dr. Schmetter and sat and watched dappled light from the window play against his laptop screen. A faint clatter wafted through the closed door, followed by a muffled burst of Re’s laughter and Jay’s low response. He had a lot to think about but, right now, all he needed was his family.

He skipped down the steps, pausing when his phone buzzed in his pocket. “Oh,” he said aloud as he walked into the kitchen. “It’s Pat,” he said, smiling. His cheeks felt tight and Re’s eyes lingered on his before he read the message.

“I see our boy’s getting up to some good trouble on his first day,” Jay murmured approvingly. “Susan’s got a team from WA-ACLU down there, too,” he added. “Pat’s in good hands.”

“I know he is,” Logan said, nodding down at the screen. “I’m proud of him,” he said, voice a little shakier than he’d intended.

Without another word, Re pulled him close, taking the phone and sliding it into his own pocket.

“Lo?” Jay asked, watching him over Re’s shoulder.

Re pulled back then, searching his eyes. “Rough session?” he asked, one arm curled around his back as his other hand came up to cup Logan's cheek.

Licking his lips, Logan began to nod then stopped. “Not quite rough, but…” No. His early sessions with Dr. Schmetter had been rough. This was something different. “I… I still wonder sometimes,” he began.

Jay moved close and Logan melted in their shared embrace, surrounded by their warmth, their strength. He breathed in their love, in the softness, the certainty that he could safely voice the quiet worry in the back of his mind and they would still be here in his arms.

They’d spent a few confused months, floundering for an explanation for what they’d all experienced. But when Jay’s PI backed up all the strange little facts Logan suddenly and impossibly knew about Pat’s birth mother… they moved beyond rational explanations of psychosis and just accepted it.

“I wonder how he’s doing.”

Nodding slowly, Jay buried his face in Logan’s hair.

Re hugged them both, long, strong arms pulling them close. “If he’s anything like you, Lo Lo,” he said after a long moment. “And I think he is… I know he’s gonna find his way home.”

💔 Logan Croft Sanders

The drive across the bridge was long, rainy, and energized. Fighting the magnetic pull of the glowing clock set in the dash, Logan bobbed his head, tapping the steering wheel to the beat of the songs in Patton’s massive It’s Finally Over graduation playlist.

To no-one’s surprise—except, perhaps, the school administrators responsible for ceremony logistics—traffic heading into Seattle on a rainy Friday afternoon in June was… excessive. They’d only just passed the midspan on the bridge when Patton’s playlist looped around for the second time.

Pat sang along from the passenger seat, oblivious to how dangerously close they were to arriving late. Or, Logan thought, glancing at his son’s bright smile, he simply chose to be happy rather than worry about something neither of them could change.

Logan smiled, mouthing the lyrics and biting back a curse when a shiny new black Tesla cut them off.

“Good save, Dad,” Patton chuckled, flipping open his visor mirror and checking how his hair had set.

“In not rear-ending…” Squinting, Logan struggled to decipher the vanity plate. “Eight-zero-n-d-…” He groaned, rolling his eyes. “Eight-one-double-oh-seven out there?”

Pat's chuckle turned into a full laugh. “I meant not dropping the f-bomb on my poor impressionable ears." He grinned. "I mean, This would be a tragic time for me to hear the word ‘fuck’ for the first time.”

“Okay, okay,” Logan laughed, the word still sounding strange in his technically-adult son’s voice. “Allow me my… eccentricities in my advanced age.”

“You know, I read that cursing helps you withstand pain,” he said as he tapped at his phone. “There was a study and everything.”

“Are you looking for the research?” Logan asked, risking a quick glance.

“Nah, Discord,” he said, flipping over his phone too quickly for Logan to catch more than a glimpse of the last gif Virgil had sent to the family group chat. He tapped a bit more, then looked out the window. “Hey, I can see the stadium!”

So focused on the erratic lane changes of the cars around them, Logan hadn’t registered how much traffic had not thinned per se but had accelerated. They were less than a mile out from their exit. “Excellent,” he breathed, the knot between his shoulders loosening just a bit.

Their increased speed drove the rain harder against the windshield and for the next three songs on the playlist, they made a game of catching every time the wipers matched the beat. By the time the opening bars of I Love It started for the third time, they were close enough to the venue to spot soggy directional signs, the cheerful lettering: Graduates This Way → barely visible as the tagboard drooped under the weight of a day’s worth of rainfall.

“Wow,” Patton muttered, shoulders dancing. “Who would’ve thought paper signs were the wrong way to go in Seattle, huh?”

“You know who you sound like, don’t you?” Logan asked, fighting a smile.

Patton laughed, “Am I wrong, though?”

“You certainly aren’t.” Logan shook his head with a chuckle. Scanning the road ahead, he spotted a shallow covered area near the Graduates entrance. “I’ll drop you off here, then park,” he said as he pulled up and eased to a stop. “Save you a bit of a soaking.“

“Right on time!” Patton cheered and Logan finally dared to peek at the clock.

Huffing out a laugh, Logan loosened his iron grip on the steering wheel. “Not sure how we pulled that one off.” He waited while Patton tucked his phone and wallet into his pockets, then reached out. “Hey…” Logan cupped his cheek and smiled. “I’m so proud of you, Pat.”

Patton looked back at him, smile wry until their eyes met. Sunshine burst across his face and he covered his dad’s hand with his own. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” Logan nodded and leaned forward to kiss his forehead. He patted his cheek one more time and let him go. “We’ll meet up inside, okay? We’ve got a little surprise for you at home.”

“You do?” His smile grew and he made a show of covering one ear. “No spoilers!” he laughed and got out of the car, closing the door behind him. “See you after!” he called loudly and followed the stream of graduates inside the hall.

While Patton had arrived on time, it seemed as though Logan had arrived far, far too late to find a parking spot anywhere close to the visitor’s entrance. Unsurprising for a school-based event, only ‘compact’ spots remained, unsuitable for a family-sized vehicle such as his.

On the third pass through the main lot, Logan spotted a placard announcing overflow parking was available on the other side of the stadium. He followed the signs and finally found a spot. Dashing through the rain, he entered his parking information on the go, taunted by the rapidly ticking clock in the upper right corner of his phone.

7:58.

Socks already damp, he dodged another puddle and tried to refocus on entering his license plate number into the little app.

It would be fine. It would be fine. Everything the school ever did was behind schedule and graduation would be no exception. He would make it inside before they started. He would make it. He would make—

A car horn blared from the road next to him and broke him from his litany. He stopped and took a deep breath.

Cheerful animated confetti announced his card had been charged. He wiped rain from the screen and pocketed the phone before continuing. In the distance, another family had just arrived at the covered entrance, shaking rain from umbrellas and slickers, smiling and laughing as they filed inside as a group.

He quickened his pace and before long, followed their path, thanking the usher who led directed him to the closest aisle. The stadium lights flashed twice, a five minute warning that they were about to begin.

Late. Just on time for LW high school.

“Dad!” Remy’s voice carried over the din and he searched the crowd.

All three boys—young men, Logan corrected himself—stood a few rows below, waving their arms to get his attention.

Worry sloughed off his shoulders and he smiled. “You made it!” he cheered, drawing them all into a hug as he took his seat. “Pat was worried,” he said.

“Uh-huh,” Virgil drawled. “Pat was worried.”

“Of course we made it,” Remy said, passing Logan a pack of tissues to dry the rain from his eyeglasses.

Emile smiled. “Wouldn’t miss this for anything!”

“Nor would we,” a bright voice boomed behind them.

Logan looked up. Roman led Janus and Remus through a knot of families clogging the aisle and into the empty seats behind them.

“You came!” Logan stood and reached over their seats to shake their hands. Janus’ lingered on his, steadying himself as he maneuvered into his seat.

“You invited us,” Janus said as though there couldn’t possibly be anywhere else they'd want to be on a Friday night. Smiling, he released Logan’s hand. “We’re happy to be here.”

“Wild horses couldn’t keep us away,” Roman laughed, fist-bumping each of the boys in turn.

“Not even Cthulhu could make us miss this, Lo Lo,” Remus added, the new nickname chasing the last of the rain’s chill from Logan's bones.

Janus brushed at the rain on his slacks with a wry grin. “Though he certainly seems to have given it his all. Or Zeus' all, I suppose.” He raised an eyebrow at Logan. “You know, we almost missed the entrance—the signs are all soaked through! One would imagine a school in the Pacific Northwest would think to waterproof their signage!”

Logan threw his head back in a laugh. “One would imagine.” The lights flashed again and the ushers began to close the aisle doors. Nodding at each of them, Logan turned and took his seat. “Well, they look as though they are nearly ready to begin.”

“Are you ready for this?” Remus asked, hand resting on his shoulder. He jerked his chin toward the boys next to him then out at the floor of the stadium, lined with empty folding chairs waiting for the graduates.

“No,” Logan said honestly. Then he smiled. “But I’m thrilled we’re here.”

Nodding, Remus gave his shoulder a squeeze and his brow crinkled. “Fuck, Lo Lo, your muscles are like rocks. Can I help?” he asked, one hand on each shoulder.

“Ah…” Logan bit back an instinctive response of ‘I’m fine.’ Remus’ hands radiated heat, the warmth seeping right through his damp shirt. It felt… nice. “If… Y—yes,” he said at last, practicing the simple answer he could hear in his therapist’s voice.

‘Yes.’ and ‘No.’ are both complete sentences. Use the one that fits and only explain yourself if you wish.

“Thank you,” he added, the last bit breathy as Remus’ hands went to war with the knots in his shoulders. His eyes fell shut and he whispered again, “Thank you.”

Janus’ voice murmured close to his ear. “A sculptor’s hands,” he began, the words that followed drowned out by the start of Pomp and Circumstance.

“Rain check on the rest of that,” Remus whispered near his other ear and gently relaxed his grip before sitting back.

The warmth of Remus' hands was slow to dissipate, and Logan let the music wash over him as happy tears burned his eyes. He looked out over the empty seats, one of them about to be filled by his giddy, irrepressible son. He looked to his left where the rest of his boys sat, Virgil with his camera ready, Remy, grinning, hand threaded with Emile’s. He listened to the happy, quiet whispers between the twins behind them, and Janus’ soft answering chuckle.

They’d made it. They’d all made it. They’d made it here to Patton’s graduation. Patton, through Herculean effort and determination and endless optimism had made it to graduation.

Cameras flashing from the other side of the stadium broke him from his reverie and he took out his own phone, ready to record every moment that came next.

~

For all the sturm und drang of the trip across Lake Washington, the ceremony itself was absurdly brief. By the time they all got out and met up with Patton in the front atrium, the sun had not even set. The rain had stopped sometime during the commencement speeches, and the cleared skies were brighter than they had been when Logan had first arrived.

"I really am quite grateful you all came," Logan said quietly to Janus as they watched Roman pose with the boys. "It…" He licked his lips, considering his words. "It means a lot to him and…" He met his eyes. "And a lot to me."

"You sound somewhat surprised we came," Janus said, drawing closer when Remus joined them.

"I… Well…" They exchanged a look, silently speaking volumes to each other.

Remus bumped their shoulders together, grinning. "Nah, Lo Lo," he said. His smile warmed Logan down to his toes. "We wanted to be here with you."

"Really?" Logan asked. "I thought—i feared you accepted out of politeness."

"Ah," Janus said, nodding. Again they shared a look. "Would it be helpful if we were more direct in expressing what we want?"

Remus flashed him another grin and gripped his shoulder. "We can do that."

"Well, y—yes," Logan nodded, irrationally hoping Remus wouldn't let go. "Tha—that would be very helpful."

"Then we shall," Janus murmured and watched the boys as they chased each other over the stadium steps.

~

They lingered in the golden light, none of them in a rush to join the traffic worming its slow way through the overcrowded parking lot and back over the bridge. Logan snapped more pictures than he could count, reluctant to stop when Roman offered to take a series that included him, as well.

He relented when Janus leaned close, hand soft on his arm. “They will want pictures of their father, Logan,” he murmured.

Eventually the sun set and the first stars glimmered, fighting valiantly to be seen past the city’s lights. The parking lot quieted and they headed toward their cars.

“Mr. H!” Patton called, waving at a figure standing at the rideshare pick-up area across from the first row of cars in the now nearly-empty lot.

Logan recognized Roman’s little two-door coupe parked in the tiny compact spots that had been too tight of a fit for his own vehicle. With a chuckle, he wondered if Roman had made Remus ride scrunched in the back seat. Just beyond it sat Remy’s car.

“Mr. H, I did it!” Patton cheered and ran ahead to greet his favorite teacher.

Frowning down at his phone, Mr. Hopkins was surrounded by two stacks of plastic totes and a large tarp folded under his arm. His face lit up at Patton’s call, waving back with a cheery, “You did! I’m proud of you, Pat!”

“We all are,” Logan said as they joined him.

“I can see that,” Mr. Hopkins grinned, one arm wrapped over Patton’s shoulders. He laughed when Patton took a selfie of them. “You’ve brought an entourage with you,” he remarked, eyes bouncing from face to face. His gaze lingered on Roman’s, recognition flickering, but he seemed determined not to stare. He turned to face Patton.

“Right!” Patton laughed. “Everybody, this is Mr. H—Mr. Hopkins. He’s my theatre teacher, well, was my theatre teacher.” He pointed to each in turn. “You know my dad, and those are my brothers, Virgil and Remy, and Remy’s husband Emile…”

Hopkins shook each hand in turn, again peeking at Roman. Logan glanced over his shoulder, worried he was making him uncomfortable. Roman was good with fans and typically dealt with even the pushiest politely and effectively.

But Roman’s eyes were fixed on Hopkins, eagerly waiting to be introduced.

“And this is Remus and his husband Janus,” Patton continued. He winked at them before gesturing toward Roman. “And this Remus’ brother, Roman.”

Janus hid a laugh behind his hand as Roman inclined his head as he shook Hopkins’ hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you, Mr. Hopkins,” he said, voice a little deeper than usual. Was he—

Logan’s eyes flicked over to Remus’ and he nodded, smirking at his brother’s flirting.

“Please,” Hopkins said, still shaking Roman’s hand. “Call me Lucas.”

“Lucas,” Roman repeated. “I’ve always liked that name.”

“Can I call you Lucas, too?” Patton asked, shoulders dancing the way they did when he was thinking of a joke.

Hopkins—Lucas—laughed. Was he blushing? “You bet!”

“So whatcha doin’ out here, Teach?” Remus asked, grinning back at his brother when he shot him a look that would slay a more fragile man.

“Oh,” Hopkins said with a heavy sigh. His earlier smile faded as he patted one stack of totes. “Waiting for my third Uber of the night, actually.” His phone dinged and he looked down at the screen. “Damn. Make that my fourth Uber,” he said, tapping rapidly.

"A rideshare is unnecessary," Logan said. "I mean…” He looked at Remy and Roman, the other two drivers that night. “Surely between all of our cars we can fit both you and your materials comfortably."

"Are you…sure?" Lucas looked between them, Patton and Roman nodding vigorously.

“Absolutely!” Patton said.

"It would be unseemly to leave you waiting in the rain for an Uber that may never come,” Roman said, moving to his side and grabbing the handle of one of the pushcarts.

“It’s not raining anymore, Ro Bro,” Remus said. Roman either ignored his brother or successfully feigned a sudden and dramatic hearing failure.

"It… Well, the last three canceled when the drivers saw where the pick up was." He shrugged. “No-one wants to get off the highway just to get back on.”

"There you go. It's settled. Here, you can ride with me!" Roman said and began to roll the stack to his car.

"Hey, Ro, did you forget you're our—" The twins exchanged a look and Remus nodded. "Yeah, great idea!” he said and grabbed the other trolly. “Here, I'll help."

After a bit of wrangling, Roman evicted a bright green tote bag from his tiny trunk and, with effort, jammed in most of Lucas’ materials.

In the end, all that was left were the empty wheeled carts and Logan and Janus each took one. “These will fit nicely in my car,” he said.

“Will we fit, too?” Remus asked, smile bright.

“Oh! Yes, of course!” Logan nodded at him and Janus. “I should have made the invitation clear. Absolutely!”

Remy and Virgil exchanged a little smile, relief, probably, at not needing to rearrange their own seating. “We’ll all meet up at Dad’s?” Remy asked, taking Emile’s hand.

“Yeah, are you busy, Mr. H? We’re having a ‘surprise’ celebration back home,” he said, air quotes audible.

“I wouldn’t want to intrude,” Lucas said to Logan.

Nodding excitedly, Roman made pleading eyes over his shoulder and mouthed, “He can come!”

Stifling a laugh, Logan nodded. “We’d love to have you.”

Enlivened by Remus and Patton happily celebrating his work to set up Roman and Lucas, the long walk back to Logan's car felt short.

Janus slid close and murmured, “It seems your son is a budding matchmaker.”

Watching Patton’s glee as he recounted Roman’s flirting, Logan couldn’t disagree. “It appears he is.”

They reached the car and Logan struggled to both retrieve his keys and hold one of the hand trucks.

"Here, lemme help you with that," Remus said, moving close and reaching for the handle.

"Thank you, but I will be fine,” Logan said automatically. Despite the slight chill of the evening, Remus’ hand was warm. “You've got your hands full yourself.”

"I've got two hands, after all," Remus winked at him.

Patton barked out a laugh, quickly covering his mouth.

“We both do,” Janus said, taking the hand truck from Logan’s grip and holding Remus’ other hand.

“They’re not wrong,” Patton said quietly behind him. Taking out his own key, Patton unlocked the car with a chirp. He popped the trunk and tucked both hand trucks into the cargo area. “I’ll drive!” he said and opened the passenger door next to them before he clambered into the driver’s seat.

Watching Patton carefully fasten his seat belt before adjusting the seat and the mirrors, Logan nodded approvingly. “Your lessons have paid off,” he hummed and climbed into the backseat, leaving the front passenger seat for either Remus or Janus.

Remus climbed into the back with him.

And Janus slid into the seat on Logan's other side. “Quite the matchmaker, indeed,” he murmured, leaning close to Logan as he buckled his seat belt.

Patton started the engine, then grinned at him in the rear view mirror. “Everyone ready?”

Logan looked at Remus and then at Janus. Each met his eyes and nodded. Remus' hand grazed his knee.

…It’s the best possible time to be alive, when almost everything you thought you knew was wrong. Crack open the door and step through!

Heart racing, Logan nodded back at his son’s reflection. “Yes,” he said.

"Ready."

-

Author's Note: And the story is finally complete. This tale needed more room than I'd originally anticipated to say everything it needed. And, even in the epilogue, there's plenty more life for all of them to lead. (And, yes, we'll see this trio again at @intruloceitweek in October. This is just the beginning for them, after all.)

[intruloceitweek]

"He's not my anything."

Methinks the lady doth protest too much, Jannie. It's a good thing I wasn't there for that conversation.

On a Butterfly's Wing, Ch. 19: Run, Boy. Run.

Prev - Run, Boy. Run. - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: ~4700 - Rated: T - CW: discussions of abuse, injuries, guns, ACAB. Character assassination of Solo: A Star Wars Tale - Janus, Remus, and Roman are also celebrating May the Fourth when there's a knock at the door.

“Okay, but how about inverse machete order?”

Remus and his brother stood in front of the ‘S’ blu ray shelves. Tapping his chin in thought, he scanned the disks and pointed to their bootlegged copy of Obi Wan.

Ro’s face screwed up—nose scrunched, lips pursed. Confusion and disgust always looked pretty much the same on him. “If we did a reverse machete order, wouldn’t we start with the Rise of Skywalker?” He pulled that case off the shelf, an actual, purchased copy.

“Nah, Ro Bro, not reverse—inverse.” He laughed, taking down Solo, the second season of the Mandalorian, and Obi Wan. He shrugged and plucked the case from his brother’s hands. “Y’know what, this one belongs, too.”

Sipping his tea from his favorite spot in the corner of the couch, Jannie chuckled. “Are you intentionally selecting a list of objectively bad Star Wars films?”

“And t.v. shows,” he crowed, wiggling the case he’d hand-lettered for the Obi-Wan disks.

Arms crossed over his chest, Ro pouted. “I thought this was meant to be fun.”

“It will be,” Remus said as he popped in the first disk. He turned on the television then handed the remote to his brother with a grin. “You can talk as much shit as you want about ‘unnecessary metatextual references’ in that damned lightsaber battle.”

A little smile tugged at the corner of Ro’s mouth as he hefted the remote in his hand. Usually it took a semi-serious wrestling match to pry the thing out of Remus’ grip and Ro knew it. “As much as I want?” he asked Jannie. “No interruptions?”

Waving his hand in a magnanimous gesture, Jannie looked every bit the lord of the castle. He smiled indulgently. “I wouldn’t dream of stopping you.”

Eyes narrowed at his brother, Ro nodded. Once. “Alright,” he said and Remus clapped his hands together, bouncing on his toes.

“I’ll get the popcorn!”

~

Ro pressed pause again and pointed at the screen with the remote like he was giving a lecture. “Last one, I swear!”

“Mm-hm.” Laughing, Remus sat back and curled his arm over Jannie’s shoulders to listen.

Ro didn’t need the encouragement to continue. “They went to all this trouble to introduce the most compelling villains since Boba Fett himself—“

Jannie chuckled, his laughter rumbling deliciously against Remus’ side. They exchanged a knowing look.

“And don’t get me started on the Book of Boba!” He starting ticking off each grievance on his fingers. “The lighting in Jabba’s Palace was subpar, the writing was shite and the characterization? Ugh!” Hand pressed to his chest, Ro shook his head. “His choices made absolutely no sense! It took actual effort to ruin a character like—“

The doorbell’s chime interrupted his rant.

“Someone’s at the door,” Jannie said, pushing up to his feet and collecting his empty tea cup. “I’ll—“

“Someone’s at the door…” Remus and Ro sang together.

“It’s your future lover,” Ro jumped up into his falsetto.

“Come on in…” Remus crooned.

Fighting a smile, Jannie huffed and set his cup on the counter on his way to the door. “Really, someone’s at the—“

“Someone’s at the door…” the twins sang back.

Finally breaking, Jannie laughed and joined their song as he danced down the hallway. “He looks at me, I look at him and in that mo-ment…”

Jannie’s singing voice never failed to give him that little buzz and Remus slid a little closer down the hall to listen. He was still singing in that sexy sotto voce as he unlocked the door.

“I think that both our hearts melt—Crof—Logan?”

Remus closed the distance between them in two long strides, barely noticing Ro still quietly singing to himself. “It’s your future lover… Come on ii-in.”

Logan Croft, the guy from Jannie’s office, stood on their doorstep. A kid with a wild mop of blond hair stood next to him, an overstuffed backpack slung over his shoulder. His bottom lip, already bitten all to hell, was caught between his teeth. Eyes jumping from the street to Jannie, then back to the street at every passing car, the kid was silent. Between his round face and the look in his eyes, Remus couldn’t tell if he was old for his body or younger than he looked. He stood close to Logan, a little behind him, in fact, stepping out just a bit when Remus’ face appeared over Jannie’s shoulder.

But Logan… Dude stank of wine, car keys dangling from one hand. Despite the warm night, his jacket was zipped up to his chin, but a bit of his collar stuck out, stained red. Tense and on guard, his brown hair was weirdly matted and dark, almost black on one side.

It wasn’t until Remus stepped closer that he noticed the thin trail of dried blood near his ear.

“The fuck happened to you?” Remus blurted out. The kid’s eyes widened and he looked nervously at Logan, but didn’t speak.

Jannie stared at the pair for another moment before stammering, “Wha—Why…” His gaze bounced from the blood on his neck to the kid beside him with the giant bag. His nose wrinked. If Remus could smell the alcohol on this guy, Jannie sure as fuck could, too.

He opened the door wide and ushered them inside. “Come on in.”

“Thank you.” Gnawing on his lip just like the kid, Logan stared down at his shoes. “I’d like to say I didn’t know where else to go, but… honestly?” He finally looked up as they stepped inside the brighter hallway.

Blood dribbling down his neck from his hair and with a bruise blooming above his temple, he looked rough. Eyes puffy and bloodshot, his hands shook, but he kept the bloodied side of his head tilted away from the kid, one arm now wrapped protectively around him. “You were… This was the first place I thought to go.”

Lips pressed tight and eyes downcast, Logan probably didn’t catch the tremble in Jannie’s jaw as he stared back at him.

But Remus sure did.

After that strange, brief call on Halloween, Jannie had kept his ears up for any sort of information about Logan’s personal life. He even started outright asking the attorneys and one of the secretaries who’d been with the firm the longest, claiming he was looking for material to use at a little ceremony to honor his years of service to the community. He’d laid that shit on thick.

But no-one would admit to knowing much about him. He was happily married, had three kids, now grown. A little clumsy and socially awkward, but he worked hard and was always kind, ready to assist with anything that was asked of him.

Beyond that? Dude was a closed book to everyone. None of it had done a damn thing to ease Jannie’s—or his—worry.

“Well, then,” Jannie nodded and led them down the hall. “I’m pleased I had the foresight to have you drop off those case files last year.” One corner of his mouth turned up in a dry smile.

Logan did catch that and his eyes grew wet as he gestured for the kid to enter first.

Door fully closed behind them, his stiff posture loosened, just a bit. Still hugging the kid—this must be one of his—he cleared his throat and looked around.

Ro stood at one end of the hallway. He took one look at Logan and shot a glance at Remus, eyebrows up, eyes speaking volumes. What the fuck happened to him?

Remus half-shrugged. Nothing good, that’s for sure.

“Ah, well, um… Patton,” Logan began. He spoke slowly, carefully, jaw twitching with each pause. “This is Janus Prince nee Pater, my boss. Remus Prince, his husband, and Roman—“

“You’re Ro!” the kid—Patton—grinned up at him. “Remy’s told me all about you.”

Ro smiled. “Remy’s told me all about you, too,” he said, eyes moving between them before they landed on Logan.

He nodded, something unspoken between them. “Thank you for convincing him to tell me,” he said quietly.

“I’m glad he did.”

Remus caught Ro’s eye and looked pointedly at the blood matting Logan’s hair. Ro stepped closer to the kid. “Hey, Pat,” he said, giving him his best smile. “Why don’t we go call your brothers in the other room? Remy’s been promising to introduce us. We can show him you beat him to it.”

Carrying more worry than a kid his age should have to bear, Patton looked back at Logan. “Is that okay with you, Dad?”

“Of course,” he nodded, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “Roman took care of your brothers when they were tiny.”

“Yeah, I know, Dad. I mean…” his eyes flicked over to him and Jannie. Jannie looked away, jaw tight. “Are you okay?”

“Absolutely.” Hand gripped so tight on his bag the fingers were turning white, Logan nodded. “They’re good people.”

Jannie blinked, surprised.

“Say hi to your brothers for me.”

Patton held his gaze for a long moment, then he smiled and followed Ro out to the living room.

The moment he was out of sight, Logan slumped against the wall, still holding that damned bag.

“Come,” Jannie murmured, reaching slowly for his arm. He didn’t touch him until Logan moved closer, nodding. “Let’s get that head looked at. The light’s brighter in the kitchen.”

“You’ll never guess where I am right now!” Patton’s barely suppressed laugh poured over them from the living room.

“Hey there!” Ro suddenly cheered as a chorus of voices spilled from the phone. Once they were inside, Jannie moved to slide the kitchen door closed, leaving it open just a sliver. “Is this alright?” he asked, pointing out the gap to Logan.

Eyes faraway, Logan sat slumped in the chair Remus had pulled out for him. He looked up, listening to the now muffled clamor of Ro entertaining some of his biggest fans. Logan nodded, an almost smile breaking through his numb expression. Ro was in rare form, taking the kid and his brother through a beat-by-beat embellished replay of how they’d decided what to watch for tonight’s movie marathon.

It seemed the crew up in Bellingham had been enjoying similar plans.

“Logan?” Jannie’s voice was soft, and he spoke first before slowly moving closer. He’d seen Jannie approach stray cats with less care.

He crouched beside Logan’s chair, putting him below eye level. “Logan, can you tell us what’s happened?”

“I—“ his voice cracked. Whatever protective instinct or drive had kept him upright crumbled and he covered his face with his hands, a muffled sob squeezing past his fingers. “I called the police.”

“That’s… that’s a good thing, right?” Remus looked between them. The confusion in Jannie’s eyes matched his. “I mean, fuck cops, but…”

Logan’s whole body shook with near-silent sobs. Tears dripped down his hands, his neck. Remus grabbed the first soft towel he touched in the drawer next to him. “Here, man,” he murmured, passing him the towel.

He and Jannie exchanged a look.

Jannie was speechless. Remus had been around the QLaw offices often enough to have heard the dirt on just about everybody there. And except for all that shit with Ro and Devin—and that one Halloween—most everything he’d seen about this guy had been pretty close to the stories. Stoic, bordering on robotic. Straight-laced, if maybe not as completely straight as Jannie claimed he was.

Quiet. Composed.

Nothing like this.

Logan pressed the towel against his mouth, like if he stuffed it in he could smother his cries, shove them all back inside. His breathing grew erratic, a pained, stuttered wheezing he seemed desperate to stifle.

“Hey, man,” Remus murmured. “It’s okay,” he said. Lied? Fuck if he knew everything was okay. Dude rolled up with blood in his hair and stinking of wine. How the fuck was Remus gonna tell him it was okay?

The kid, Patton, laughed again, and Logan’s eyes darted over to the joyous sound.

On an impulse—since when did he do anything unimpulsively?—Remus loosely gripped Logan’s forearms. He traced lines up and down with his thumbs. “Y’hear that?” he asked, keeping his voice low and quiet. Logan looked back at him and Remus smiled. “Your son’s safe,” he said. “Ro won’t let anything happen to him.”

Towel jammed against his mouth, breaths still coming in ragged gasps, he listened.

“You’re both safe here, okay?”

Tears spilling down his cheeks, Logan just stared back at him.

“You knew you would be,” Jannie shook himself free from his stupor and slowly covered Remus’ hand where he held onto Logan’s arm. Jannie tapped out a steady beat, the same one he used with him during his freak outs. “That’s why you came here.”

Logan nodded, more a weird head bobble than anything else.

“Whatever’s going on, Logan, you’re safe here.”

~

They sat together for a long time, Jannie keeping time with that steady tap-tap-tap-tap, reminding them all to breathe. Ro and the kid finished their phone call and, after a minute or two of quiet talking, the opening bars to John William’s overture blared from the t.v. speakers.

“Ro’s good with kids.” Remus grinned when Logan slowly lowered the towel from his mouth, breaths easing into quiet stutters.

“He—“ Logan shuddered and took off his glasses. “He really is.” Scrubbing at his face with the towel, he rubbed away his tears like he hated them for their very existence. “Thank you,” he said after a long moment, towel clutched in his lap. Remus had let go of his arms, fingers now jumbled in knots in his own lap, but Jannie’s hand still rested on Logan’s forearm. The slow tap-tap-tap-tap unwavering. And grounding.

“I—“ Logan began again, voice cracking. He swallowed hard. Painfully.

“Hang on.” Remus jumped up and filled a glass of water from the fridge filter, then doubled back and filled the kettle before flicking it on.

He had a feeling they were all gonna need it.

Logan sipped at the water and cleared his throat. “I apologize for… all of this,” he finished, shaking his head. “Kel—my wife and I had a fight,” he said to his water glass.

Jannie’s eyebrow arched, eyeing the dry blood streaked behind his ear and crusting along his hairline. “’Fights’ are two-sided,” he murmured.

Logan shifted in his chair, avoiding his eyes.

Jannie sighed, but he nodded. “Is that why you called the police?”

“No.” His reponse was quick. “No, um… She’d… she’d been driking and… And I tried—“ His face crumpled, just for a moment, then he breathed in again, slow and deliberate. “I thought I could convince her to stay in. She’d come home drunk and… and she was, well… agitated. And then Patton—“ He shook his head again. “It’s not his fault. Then she started to leave and she wouldn’t listen, so I called and she has a gun and—“

“Shhh… It’s okay,” Jannie moved closer, both hands now on Logan’s arm, steadying him.

The kettle clicked off and Remus stood, but Logan’s hand darted out, grabbing his wrist. He stared down at his own hand like someone else had moved it. Slowly—reluctantly?—Logan loosened his grip, but before he could remove it completely, Remus smiled.

“Just getting tea,” he said and patted his hand. “Right there.” Remus gestured toward the counter. “I’ll be right back.” He waited for Logan’s short nod before giving his hand a little squeeze and moving away.

He and Jannie watched as Remus made the tea, Jannie’s thumb keeping up his grounding beat. Remus wasn’t sure Jannie was even aware of it. He’d done it so many times for him, it was just an instinct. Somebody’s losing it? Help them breathe.

When Remus returned to the table with the tea, Jannie pulled up a chair, turning it so he could sit next to Logan and still face him. Remus hitched himself up onto the table and sat on his other side.

Jannie gave him a look, so Remus raised his pinkie as he sipped, saucer held daintily beneath his cup.

Logan laughed.

Not long and not loud, but one genuine, tiny huff of laughter.

It was beautiful.

Jannie waited until Logan had drunk half his tea before resuming his questions. “So… what exactly did you say to the police? Nothing about…” His voice trailed off, waving vaguely toward Logan’s head.

“No. No, I made an anonymous report about a drunk driver and—“ Jaw trembling, he downed the rest of his tea. His hand shook and he set down the empty cup with a little clatter before taking a slow breath. “I told them she had a gun in her purse.”

“Shit.” That’s a quick trip to death-by-cop. This guy really did have balls the size of Jupiter.

“Does she?” Jannie asked, quickly covering his own shock.

Logan nodded. “No idea if she’s got it registered. It used to be her father’s.”

“Well…” Jannie sat back and drank more of his tea.

The likelihood of this bitch suddenly showing up at the door tonight just went down significantly.

“Are you pressing charges?” Jannie finally asked, tilting his chin significantly at the state of Logan’s head.

“This?” he asked, gesturing vaguely. “I—This is—“ He shook his head, wincing slightly. “This is noth… ing.”

Even Logan caught the horror in Jannie’s eyes.

“May I take a look?” Jannie asked.

Stiffening in his chair, Logan looked away.

“Jannie won’t hurt you.” Remus scooted a little closer.

His husband didn’t trust cops any more than he did, so if Jannie was talking about pressing charges, everything he’d seen so far must’ve given him a damn good reason. What had he put together? What other injuries had he seen on this dude over the years?

On a whim, Remus offered his hand. Logan stared at it for a long moment and Remus was about to pull it away when he reached out and took it.

Shoulders curled and hugging himself with his other arm, Logan nodded once. “Proceed. Please,” he added, mouth twitching.

Standing behind him, Jannie glanced down at their shared grip, then met Remus’ eyes and nodded. “Thank you, Muse,” he mouthed and got to work.

Delicate fingers parted his hair, lifting section by section to see the scalp beneath. Jannie’s frown deepened by the minute. After a deathly long while, Janus lowered his hands. “You’ve had a lot of bleeding. Bleeding from scalp wounds can be…” Jannie searched for a word.

“Profuse.”

“Gory,” Remus said, winking at Logan when he looked up in surprise.

Something that wasn’t a smile—but wasn’t not a smile—flashed across his features and he nodded. “Colorful, but… accurate.”

Humming, Jannie touched the dried blood behind his ear. “It appears your bleeding, at least, has stopped without requiring stitches.”

He still frowned, though, outsized concern for someone who didn’t need stitches. “Is it tender?” he asked, raising both hands again to peer beneath the thick hair at the back of his head.

“Ah… a bit,” Logan admitted after a moment. “It’s improved.”

“There’s quite a bit of swelling,” he said.

On cue, Logan winced, hand twitching in Remus’. “It’s manageable,” he said tightly.

Jannie’s frown deepened the more he looked beneath his hair. “I’m seeing several… scars here, as well.”

Logan hung his head but didn’t speak.

Remus looked at Logan with fresh eyes. The shiny, smooth scar on his palm… the jagged split on his earlobe… He met Jannie’s eyes.

Jannie nodded. It was worse than they’d ever thought.

Stroking his hand, Remus leaned a little closer. “Hey, Logan?” Remus began, a little surprised when he looked up.

Chin trembling, his mouth was stiff, lips pressed tightly together. But it didn’t hide the raised scar on his jaw. Or the sadness in those big, wet eyes.

“What happened to you?”

~

Crof—Logan wouldn’t face him as he spoke. Head bowed, he kept his eyes focused on Re’s hands wrapped around his.

Perhaps that was for the best, because as his story unfolded, Janus felt his careful, detached mask crack and shatter as the man he thought he knew recounted two decades of abuse from that horrible woman.

How in god’s name had he missed the signs? As the Attorney-in-Charge, Janus fucking led the annual trainings on identifying spousal abuse, reviewed all his attorney’s pro bono cases, supervised the paralegals and the entire social work team at QLaw. Was he really so callous, so caught up in his own bullshit to have just accepted Logan’s vague excuses for his many—many—injuries over the years?

“Looks like Queerbait Croft’s done it again,” Devin had laughed as he plunked a large coffee down on his desk. Stretching out on the loveseat across from him, Devin retrieved his silver flask and added a healthy glug to his own cup. “You want some?” he’d asked, passing it to Janus. Janus poured a generous amount into his own mug, inhaling the sweet steam rising up from the cup. He twisted the cap back on and tossed the half-empty flask across the room. It landed with a flat thud on the thick sofa cushion. He took a slow sip, savoring the heat of the brew—and the alcohol on his tongue—then sank back in his chair. “What’s he done this time?” Devin chuckled. “Your boy has—“ “He’s not ‘my boy.’ We went to the same law school.” Janus frowned into his cup. “He’s not my anything.” “I retract my previous statement, Your Honor,” he laughed. “Well, rumor has it he showed up for Peterson’s morning hearing—late, by the way—with his hand in a sling. Closed the car door on his fingers on his commute.” Shaking his head, Devin drank more of his coffee. “Dude can’t even walk and chew gum at the same time.” He grew serious then and met Janus’ eyes. “You sure he’s the one you want going with you down to Olympia to defend the Marriage Equality Act?” Janus finished his coffee before answering, the whine of his mid-day headache slowly fading. “His name’s on the amicus.” He’d looked up at Devin and shrugged helplessly. “My hands are tied. I have to include him,” he’d lied.

“May I take some notes?” Janus asked when he began to struggle to keep the sequence of incidents ordered in his mind.

Logan finally faced him then. “Do you think that’s necessary?”

He didn’t have to ask necessary for what. There was really only one thing a lawyer meant when he asked if he could start to write down the story you told him.

Janus shrugged and took his seat again. “Does she have a record?”

Logan shook his head.

Nodding, mostly to himself, Janus calculated. “Even on a weapons charge, it is likely any encounters your wife has with law enforcement tonight will only keep her occupied for a day or two. At most.” He watched the wheels turn behind Logan’s eyes, then continued. “She’s a she, and affluent—enough—and, frankly, white. Your wife is unlikely to be in custody for longer than it takes for her sober up.”

“Unless she take a bite out of a cop or somethin’” Re added, grinning at Logan. “Does she like bacon?”

Logan smiled back.

Re seemed to have a knack for dragging that soft smile out of the man.

“You’ll want to have Orders of Protection in place before she’s released.”

And Janus was quite skilled at making Logan’s little smiles fade into oblivion.

Logan slumped back in his chair, eyes closed. A sticky clump of hair hung over his forehead and his eyebrow twitched beneath it.

Re’s hand darted out and gently swept it away.

Eyes shooting open, Logan startled at the touch, then calmed and stared back at each of them before nodding. He sighed. “Let’s get it all down, then.”

~

When it was done, Janus stood and began to excuse himself to draft the motions they would need for court in the morning. Logan couldn’t quite manage to force himself to meet his eyes, but the hand that gripped his shoulder was gentle and his voice softer than Logan had ever heard it.

At least in this world.

“I won’t—“ He began, then seemed to reconsider.

Head down, Logan watched Remus take Janus’ other hand.

“You’re not alone in this, Logan,” Janus finally said and Logan looked up. His eyes were wet.

Remus kissed his hand and made a little shooing motion. “I’ll get him settled, Jannie. Can I bring you anything?”

He shook his head and slipped out of the kitchen, leaving him alone with Remus.

“I bet Ro’s got something comfy for you to sleep in.” Head tilted toward the door Janus had left cracked open, he listened. No noise came from the other room. “C’mon,” he smiled and stood.

The television was muted, the cycling images of the main menu for Return of the Jedi illuminating the room. Patton, dressed in pajamas, slept curled under a blanket on the larger end of the sofa. His backpack sat open on the floor at one end of the couch, a travel toothbrush and another change of clothes poking out.

Roman sat on the loveseat adjacent to him and Logan couldn’t quite shake the image of Rory Williams standing guard over the Pandorica. He crouched down between them.

“He’d prepared,” Logan whispered past his tightening throat. He brushed back a lock of his son’s hair. Had he been getting ready to run away? To his brothers’ he hoped.

“Mm-hm,” Roman hummed and slid closer. “He’s got clothes for you in there, too.”

Oh.

“There’s a shower in the bathroom down the hall, use anything you need in there,” Remus murmured, gesturing to his brother. “And the loveseat opens up into a bed. My loser brother’s already using the guest room, so—“

Logan looked up in alarm but Roman only rolled his eyes with a silent laugh at his brother’s teasing. His own face cracked in a smile before a yawn burst up from deep in his chest.

“We’ll get you some blankets,” Remus said and gave his shoulder a little squeeze before ushering Roman out of the room.

Fishing carefully through Patton’s bag, Logan found a packing cube complete with one of his old tee-shirts and flannel pants. There was even a toothbrush, deodorant, and a comb. He gathered them together, jumping when his phone gave a plaintive low-battery warning. For that he’d need his own bag.

He plugged in his and Patton’s phones and was about to close the flap on his satchel when the Chaos book nestled at the bottom caught his eye. The morning and that surly Goodwill attendant felt like a lifetime ago.

Logan pulled out the book and fanned through the ‘damaged’ pages.

Past where he’d actually reached in his own reading, his own handwriting leapt out him on a dog-eared page.

“Conjecture: You and I are both real.”

His fingers traced over the indentations made by the pen and he flipped the pages more slowly, searching for more writing. It didn’t take long.

"Whichever paths each of us has followed, we are not bound to them. Every day is a new choice. Every day is a new, fluid path we might choose totake. This track, Logan, is not the only path available to you to follow."

Hugging the book to his chest, he looked around the dimly lit room and this new, very fluid path he’d stepped onto. Fantastical paintings lined the walls, Remus’ if he could judge by the style familiar from his dreams. One corner of the space was consumed by heavy floor-to-ceiling bookshelves, complete with a library-style ladder for reaching the top shelves.

The walls were painted a warm, buttery yellow.

The house was full but quiet. Patton sighed peacefully in his sleep and Janus was upstairs working on the documents that would help keep them both safe. Remus and Roman’s hushed voices grew louder as they returned with a stack of sheets and blankets.

With a gentle smile Logan almost recognized, Remus moved to his side and set down the bundle. “Got whatcha need?”

Setting down the book on the coffee table beside them, Logan gathered up his pajamas. Remus glanced at the book and gave him a crooked smile he wasn’t entirely sure how to interpret. But it warmed him just the same.

“I believe I do.”

[intruloceitweek]

April 30 - Last Day for Writer Check-ins

Today (April 30) is the final day for writers to submit check-ins for the TSS Storytime Big Bang and we haven't heard from far too many of you.

We're broadening our reach just in case some of you signed up and haven't been in the Discord for the reminders.

Get those forms in, writers! Fanders want to read your tales!

[intruloceitweek]

Hey, Campers! Are You Ready?

Calling all Fander Writers! You have from now through April 29th to sign up for Camp Cartoon!

What's Camp Cartoon? Well, gosh, I'm so glad ya asked!

Camp Cartoon is a month-long fanfiction writing event that starts May 1. When Campers (writers) sign-up (no later than April 29th), they submit two prompts they'd like to see filled. When all the forms are in, we sort everybody into their cabins with a handy-dandy Counselor (mod) to help out.

Starting on May 1st, everybody writes!

Campers in each cabin plan together to write gift fics for the other cabins' prompts. Every story earns a cabin points and there are special bonus points for finishing all of another cabin's prompts!

All stories must be complete and posted on AO3 and/or Tumblr by the end of the day on May 31st.

Still have questions? The doctor is in, so ask away!!

[intruloceitweek]

2025 Fander Events

Events are divided into sections, General creative events, Ship Weeks, and Past Events (sometimes those have a wonderful pattern of re-emerging when there's sufficient interest.)

This post was last updated April 25, 2025. Please click keep reading below to see the latest version.

Please reach out if you know about an event not on this list!

General Events

TSS Storytime Big Bang (@tss-storytime)

Sign-ups: Feb. 1 - Apr. 15 (Writers), Apr. 30 (Artists)

Posting in August

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

Dark Side Appreciation Station (@darksideweeks)

Janus Week: Feb. 2 - 8

Remus Week: June 22 - 28

Virgil Week: Dec. 14 - 20

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

Camp Cartoon Gift Fanfic Event (@tss-camp-and-coffee, a spin off of @tsspromptmonth)

Sign-ups: April 15 - April 29

Posting all through May

Updated: Apr. 11 2025

The Sanders Sides Big Bang (@sandersidesbigbang)

Sign-ups: (tbd, last year was April))

Posting in (tbd, last year was Sept./Oct.)

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

Trans Sides Week (@transsidesweek)

Sept. 14 - 20

Updated: Jan 23 2025

The Sleepy Bean Fanfic Café (@tss-camp-and-coffee, a spin off of @tsspromptmonth)

Sign-ups: October

Posting in November

Updated: Jan. 26 2025

Ship Events

AnaloginceWeek (@analoginceweek)

Feb. 16 - 22

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

Dukexiety Week (@dukexietyweek)

Apr. 13 - 20

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

Anaroceit Week (@anaroceitweek)

Apr. 21 - 27

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

Romantic/QPR Anxceitmus (@darksideweeks)

Apr. 27 - May 3

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

Prinxiety Week (@prinxietyweek)

Jun. 2 - 8

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

In which Patton and Janus fight over Remus:

Dukeceit Week ( @darksideweeks )

Jul. 13 - 19

Updated: Apr. 25 2025

Intruality Week (@intrualityweek)

Jul. 13 - 19

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

Anxceit Week ( @darksideweeks )

Sep. 7 - 13

Intrulogical Week (@intrulogicalweek)

Updated: Apr. 25 2025

New Event - Intruloceit Week ( @intruloceitweek )

First week in October

Updated: Apr. 25, 2025

Nov. 2 - 8

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

Friends and Family Dark Sides (@darksideweeks)

Nov. 16 - 22

Updated: Jan. 23 2025

Past Events

We will update this list as more info is announced! Last updated Jan. 23 2025.

Logince Week (@loginceweek2024)

Last held January 2024

Analogical Week (@analogicalweek)

Last held in April 2022 (pls. tell us if this is wrong!)

Ace Sides Week (@acesidesweek)

Last held June 2024

Royality Week (@royalityweek)

Last held August 2023

Moceit Week (@moceit-appreciation-week)

Last held May 2022 (pls. tell us if this is wrong!)

Moxiety Week (@moxiety-week)

Last held April 2024

Roleslaying with Roman (@roleslayingweek)

Last held in 2023

Calendar View of Events (new dates for Anxceit Week and Dukecwit Week coming soon to the calendar. Edu meeds a real computer for that 🙃 Ed. Note 4/25)

Chronological Order List of Events

[intruloceitweek]

On a Butterfly's Wing, Ch. 18: Happy Birthday, Logan Croft!

May the Fourth was not just Patton's SAT day, but also Logan's birthday.

Prev - Happy Birthday, Logan Croft! - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3337 - Rated: M - CW: mentions of blood, alcohol, drunk driving, a gun. Kelly is in this chapter. -

Hopkins was right. Downpour was utterly lovely.

Nestled in a busy shopping strip off the main street, parking was a bit of a challenge and before he entered, Logan began to doubt whether a frantic Sunday morning was the best time to try a new café.

His doubts dissolved once he stepped through the door. Polished wood panels lined the walls, matching the heavy wooden counter and tables dotting the space. A large brick fireplace—unlit on this warm May day—sat at one end of the seating area, shelves of books and magazines and bric-a-brac for sale sat at the other. They seemed to absorb excess noise in the small shop, with even the bell above the door more muted than Logan would have expected.

An eclectic collection of sturdy mis-matched chairs were set about, with a low, narrow table lining big bay windows. Emptier than Logan had anticipated for a Sunday morning, he suspected most were either having a slow start to the day or had already gotten their caffeine fix and had jumped into the next part of their routine. The dog park across the street was bustling and, after Logan had ordered his coffee—and a birthday tiramisu—he spent some time watching the dogs and their humans navigate each other.

Drinking slowly, he eventually finished his coffee. The phone set on the counter in front of him remained silent, so Logan ordered a second cup. While he waited for it to brew, his book, t he book, rejected by Goodwill, sat heavy in his satchel, but he kept his bag closed. Instead, he perused a small shelf of books meant to enjoy over a cup and a scone. A thin red and black volume by Audrey Lorde stood out and he pulled it down from the shelf.

Cover and layout achingly familiar, he thumbed through the pages. He owned this edition, tucked away in a plastic tote in the garage for longer than he liked to think about, kept company with stacks of similar books quietly rescued from Kelly’s decluttering efforts. His own copy was just as worn this one, purchased secondhand back in law school.

The barista set a fresh cup on the table next to him and smiled. “Lorde’s great,” she said, gesturing at the book.

Logan nodded, thank ed her for the coffee, then sat and scanned its pages, searching for the words of a fuzzy memory.

Tears burned the edges of his eyes when he found it.

For those of us who were imprinted with fear like a faint line in the center of our foreheads learning to be afraid with our mother’s milk for by this weapon this illusion of some safety to be found the heavy-footed hoped to silence us

For all of us this instant and this triumph We were never meant to survive

And when the sun rises we are afraid it might not remain When the sun sets we are afraid it might not rise in the morning When our stomachs are full we are afraid of indigestion When our stomachs are empty we are afraid we may never eat again When we are loved we are afraid love will vanish When we are alone we are afraid love will never return And when we speak we are afraid our words will not be heard nor welcomed

but when we are silent we are still afraid so it is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive

Logan’s coffee was half drunk and cold when his phone rang.

“Hey there, Logan,” Hopkins laughed into the phone. “Pat’ s done and ready to head home.”

~

The rest of their day was a celebratory whirlwind. They picked up sandwiches from Logan’s favorite deli, ate entirely too much cake and ice cream, and laughed as they debated which of the many—many—Star Wars films they should watch to cap off the day. Patton had even surprised him with a new journal he’d caught him eyeing at the book store last month.

They were half-way through a re-watch of Andor when they heard a car knock over the recycling bin outside.

Frowning, Logan paused the show and peered out the kitchen window. Just two days after the recycling had last been picked up , the bin was near-empty; only a dozen or so cans and bottles had been left scattered over the driveway.

But Kelly’s car sat on the lawn, the big green bin caught under the front bumper. Phone in her hand, do or open and pinging, she stabbed at the console, likely trying to power down the car while it was still in Drive.

“Pat?” Logan called, breathing deeply to keep his voice calm. “Pat, why don’t you head up to your room for a bit while I take care of this?”

“Dad?”

Eyes wide, Patton stared back at him from the kitchen doorway when Kelly’s voice rang out. “ Goddammit! ” The car door slammed, lights still on.

Logan met his eyes. “Head upstairs.” He found a smile and moved closer, giving his shoulder a little squeeze. “It’ll be okay, Pat, ” he promised. “Just head up to your room.”

Patton lingered for just a moment longer, then nodded and dashed up the stairs. Logan waited for the sound of his bedroom door closing before moving to the front door.

The door rattled in its frame, knob wiggling. “Hello?!” she called after a while. The doorbell rang repeatedly. “Logan! Open th’ door! Key’s stuck!”

Her drunken slur only confirmed what her ‘parking job’ had implied.

“Just a moment!” he called, hands opening and closing at his sides as he concentrated on slow, steady breaths. Just put her to bed and let her sleep this off. “Just a—“

“ Diddja change th’ fucking locks on me?! ”

Logan jumped, shaking his head. “No! No, Kels,” he called back loudly, moving to the door. “Of course not!”

How did she know he had the number to a 24-hour locksmith in his bag? It wasn’t even labeled. He shook away the thought. No. No, she’s drunk, that’s all.

Still struggling with the lock, she fought his attempts to turn the knob. Finally, he wrenched it open.

Her keys jangled from the door handle , her mail key jammed into the lock. “I believe you had merely selected the wrong key, that’s all,” he said, voice low. Working the key loose, he glanced over her head at a dog walker staring unabashedly from across the street. He waved half-heartedly and returned to his efforts.

“Gimme that,” she hissed, ripping the keys from his hand the moment they were free. “Selected the wrong something alright.” She dropped the keys back in her purse and zipped it.

She stumbled past him and down the hall, kicking off her shoes as she went. Logan closed and locked the door, biding his time before plucking up any of the thousand questions running through his mind. What happened to your trip? Did something happen? Are you alright?

Did you actually drive home like this?

He took a slow breath and followed her to the kitchen. She’d pulled down a glass and was working out the cork on a fresh bottle. “It’s a pleasant surprise to have you home so soon, Kels,” he said quietly.

“ W ell, yeah, I live here, don’t I?” she muttered, swearing under her breath as she fought with a corkscrew.

Logan’s hands jerked with an instinct to help, but perhaps with a bit more struggle she’d give up on drinking more tonight and sleep off the rest of this.

Her purse dangled from her arm.

“Fuck,” she spat, bits of shredded corkscrew dusting the counter and the floor. She dropped the corkscrew on the counter and reached for a different bottle. One with a screw cap.

“We didn’t expect—“ Logan cleared his throat and pressed a smile onto his face. “We thought we wouldn’t have you back home for at least another week.”

She shrugged and the bottle cap made a cracking sound as the seal broke. “Sorry I didn’t give you enough notice to get your girlfriend out ta here.” She glared at him over her shoulder. “Or your boyfriend.”

“That would be ludicrous,” he shook his head. He chuckled like she’d told a joke. “Pat and I were just—“

“Where is Patton, anyway?” she said, suddenly turning and pushing past him. Her voice grew louder as she approached the stairs. “I’ve been away for a week and my own son doesn’t even come down to greet me?”

“He’s—It is rather late and he was up early for the SAT this morning,” Logan said, hoping his own voice would carry. She stumbled and he slid between her and the first step. “I believe he is sleeping. Or nearly so, at least,” he added when he caught sight of his watch. It was barely 8:45.

“Maybe you were in bed by nine at his age,” she huffed. “Normal teenagers are up half the night.” Kelly looked down at the bottle in her hand, brow furrowed.

“I…” Logan gestured behind her, back toward the kitchen. “I believe your glass is on the counter.”

She started to turn then rolled her eyes. “I have one upstairs.” Suddenly she narrowed her eyes at him. “Unless you’ve been snooping in my office.”

“Of course not, Kels,” he said, shaking his head. He hadn’t set foot in her office in months. And certainly never when she wasn’t there. Truth be told, he’d been under the impression she kept it locked.

She humphed and continued on her way toward the stairs. Logan stepped back, staying two or three steps higher so he’d hit the landing first. “You… you haven’t mentioned if…”

“If what, Logan?” she spat back at him. She paused. One hand gripped tight on her wine, her other clung to the banister. Her bag—with her car keys—still hung from her shoulder. “What? What haven’t I done now, Logan ?”

“I…” Logan resisted the urge to move to her side and instead watched the wavering strength of her hold on the handrail. “I was merely wondering what hap—Well, why you were able to return home early.”

She scoffed then and advanced up the stairs, strength and focus fueled by annoyance. “Does it matter? Do you need every sordid little detail of my meetings? I’m home now.” He matched her step for step up the stairs as she spoke.

“I… I meant nothing by it, Kels,” he said, hands open and palms up. He tried to smile but it felt more like a grimace. Not that it mattered, she wasn’t looking at him anyway. “I was… merely curious. That’s all.”

“Yeah, well, maybe you should just curb your curiosity,” she muttered, fumbling with the door to her office. It was, indeed, locked. “Dammit.” She reached for her purse without setting down the bottle. The wine inside sloshed, a few drops spilling out onto the floor and splashing on her pantyhose. Her purse clunked against the wall, heavy, far heavier than the small handbag should have been.

It wasn’t until she got the zipper open that Logan saw why. A yellowed ivory handle poked out from the corner, silver edges on the butt worn to a dull polish.

“Is that you father’s old pistol?” he blurted out before he could stop himself.

“What of it?” she snapped, nearly dropping the wine in her haste to clutch the bag to her chest.

“ ’What of…’ ” he started. “You—you reported it stolen. Years ag—“ Logan shook his head, searching his memory. Had he somehow misremembered? He blinked, recalling the weeks of disagreement over installing the gun safe in their bedroom. The break-in three months later, with the busted safe lock hanging loose on the door. The police report, the fingerprinting, the lengthy interview at the station.

And a decade later, all of their assurances to Virgil’s therapist that no, of course they didn’t keep a firearm in the house.

“You’ve just been… carrying it around?”

Kelly sucked her teeth, fishing through the bag for her keys. “Y’know, I don’ even know why I came home. I don’t need this shit,” she muttered to herself. “No other woman would ever put up with this bullshit from you.” She looked up at him then. “And you know it.”

The words shouldn’t hurt. He should’ve been ready for them, should’ve prepared for whatever stones she might sling the moment he saw her car pull up.

The words always hurt.

“Aw,” she cooed, sickly sweet. “Truth stings a bit, don’ it, honey?”

He took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, but couldn’t force himself to meet her eyes. “I am merely concerned for the safety and welfare of our—“

“Oh, now you give a fuck about Patton’s welfare?” Kelly roared. “Where the hell was all this ‘fatherly’ concern over his welfare when the school was talking you into letting them leave him behind a year, huh?”

“Forcing him into an unreasonably aggressive summer quarter simply to—“

“Schmuck.” She turned away, not listening. “Big time lawyer can’t even defend his own—”

“Just shut up! You’re always so mean to him!”

Logan hadn’t heard Patton’s door open and he had no idea how long he’d been standing there, listening.

“Pat, it’s okay,” Logan murmured, watching Kelly from the corner of his eye even as he moved closer to his son.

A little slow to react, Kelly turned from the door, unfocused eyes on Patton. “Whaddija say t’ me?” she slurred.

“It’s ok—“ Logan began, hands up as he shook his head slightly at Patton.

“No!” he said, arms crossed. “No, it’s not okay!” he said to Logan, then turned to Kelly. “You’re always so mean to him and he’s never done anything to you.”

As much as Logan tried, Patton wouldn’t meet his eyes. And once he’d gotten started, the words bubbled up and out, beyond his control. “You just complain about every little thing, no matter what he does, no matter what any of us does, it’s never good enough! Just shut up already!”

“Don’t you dare talk to me like that! Why do you think I’m even here?”

Logan felt her move behind him and he spun to face her. She’d let her purse fall to the floor. One hand clutched her bottle, the other pointed a long, manicured nail at her son.

“Who cares?” Patton shouted back. “We’re happier without you! We were fine, we were having a great time and then you showed up.” He moved closer to his room, turning his back on her. “No-one cares. No-one—“

Kelly growled. Bottle raised above her head, she charged.

Too quick to think, too quick to warn, Logan just moved . Her arm came down.

With Logan standing between her and Pat.

The bottle cracked against Logan's head. It fell but didn’t break, cold wine running through his hair and down his shirt. “Look what you made me do!” Kelly’s shout fuzzed on the edges, quiet under the roar in Logan’s ears.

“Dad? Dad!” Patton was shaking his shoulder. “Dad, are you okay?”

Logan sat on the floor, back against the wall. Wine dribbled out of Kelly’s bottle, a dark red stain spread over the ugly grey carpet.

“Dad?” Patton’ s face swam into his view.

“’M okay,” he said, nodding. It hurt to move , so he stopped. He held Patton’s gaze, though, and tried to smile. “I’m okay,” he said more carefully.

“Don’ need this,” Kelly muttered from the other side of the hall. Stumbling, she scooped up her purse and kicked the bottle out of her path. It rolled and hit the wall at the other end of the corridor with a hollow thunk. She sneered back at them but Logan’s eyes dropped back down to her purse.

Her purse that still held her car keys.

And her father’s old gun.

“Kels, wait,” he managed, pushing up to his feet. He swayed for a moment. Patton kept close, gripping his arm. “Kels, please don’t drive like this.” The time for finesse was over.

“Oh, that scares you, doesn’t it?” she laughed, dry and sharp. She shook her head and continued toward the stairs.

“Mom, Dad’s hurt!” His voice was so small.

Logan hugged his arm close, giving the gesture all the strength he could muster. “I’m okay, Pat,” he murmured. “Really.”

“He’s fine,” Kelly muttered, fumbling her bag.

“You broke a bottle on his head,” Patton shot back, moving closer to her. Logan held tight to his arm, keeping him close.

“Don’t,” he whispered, pleading with his eyes.

Kelly’s fingers flexed on her purse, more uncertain than Logan could remember seeing her in a long, long time.

“He’s fine,” she said again. “Aren’t you?” she prompted him.

Logan squared his shoulders and nudged Patton a little behind him, keeping his own body between them.

Thankfully, this time Patton followed his lead.

“See?” she said, turning and heading toward the stairs.

“Kels,” he tried again, his own voice piercing his brain. “Wait.”

“Wait ‘ what?’” she sneered.

Patton made an outraged noise beside him, but Logan stroked his hand. It calmed him for now. “You shouldn’t…” Logan’s voice wavered and he stepped closer. Something warm trickled past his left ear and he shifted, keeping Patton on his right side. “Kels, you’re in no shape to—“

“You can’t tell me what to do!” she snapped back, clutching her purse to her chest. “Besides, you’re the one who’s in a ‘state.’ Can’t hardly stand up straight, drenched in wine.” Eyes flashing, she seemed to come to a decision and she started down the stairs. “I don’ hafta listen t’ this.”

“Kelly—“ Logan winced, hot pain shooting through his head. He breathed deeply and waited for the pain to fade. It was getting better. It would get better. It had to. “Don’t… don’t drive like this, Kels. Don’t—“

“Fuck you, Logan,” she said calmly. “You’re not the boss of me.” She moved down the steps with purpose now.

Logan kept his eyes on her bag more than anything else as he navigated the stairs after her. Gripping the banisters with both hands, he had to release Patton’s hand. Patton followed, quiet.

Unsteady, her heels clicked across stone tile in the downstairs hall. There was a thunk and she groaned, swearing softly, but after a moment, the door rattled and opened.

“Kelly, wait!” Logan called again, rushing down the last steps. He turned the corner just as she’d stumbled over the threshold.

She sneered over her shoulder. “I’ll be back after you’ve figured things out.”

“Kelly, you shouldn’t—“

She slammed the door.

“Dad, she can’t drive,” Patton started toward the door but Logan held him back. “She’s—“

They both listened to her car ding, backing out into the street. Plastic bottles from the overturned recycling bin crunched under the tires.

Logan rushed to the door.

She’d pulled out onto the street and drove slowly to the corner.

“Dad, what do we do?” Patton's voice was thin, near panic.

Logan drew him close, pushing down his own fear. They were out of options.

ACAB, ACAB, ACAB, ACAB, ACAB screamed in his head, colliding with the image of that ivory inlaid grip in her purse. He pulled out his phone and held down the emergency preset.

Patton’s eyes widened when he saw what his father had done.

After a moment, the 911 dispatcher picked up. “Police, fire, or medical?”

“Um, police,” Logan said, the word sour in his mouth. “Maybe medical, too.” He took a deep breath, head hung low. Drying blood stretched and crackled at the back of his neck and he hoped the wine hid it from Patton’s terrified eyes. “I need to report a drunk driver,” he said. “And she’s armed.”

[intruloceitweek]

Definitely reblogged this before but it's just so sweet <3

My Secret Santa for @devendrawsart! Merry Christmas, I hope you had a great time!

I had a lot of fun drawing this and I hope you enjoy! I really enjoy intruloceit myself as well, so have some cozy post-christmas snuggles by the tree!

Thank you to @sanderssidesgiftxchange for keeping this up and running this year and for all your hard work!

Close-ups and non-shadowed version below the cut

(Featuring my kitty cat Rigby)

Drawn on paper with water colour, pencil crayons, Sakura micron pens. Shaded digitally with IbisPaintX

I think I may enjoy drawing furniture too much.

[intruloceitweek]

No time for rewrites

This is my gift for @naminethewitch for the @sanderssidesgiftxchange ! I hope you enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it. She requested Intruloceit detective AU! So here it is!

Summary: After thinking they would never have to see each other again, Logan and Janus are forced to work together to prove the innocence of their newest client. Someone who both of them would recognize anywhere.

CW/TW: Swearing. Arguing. Remus being Remus. Sexual innuendos. Non graphic violence. Guns. Gunshots. Fire. Near death experience. Minor character death.

Logan adjusted his tie for what seemed like the hundredth time in the evening. What kind of person agrees to a blind date and then decides not to show up? Come to think of it, getting figurative cold feet in this situation actually seemed normal. Perhaps Logan should have done that instead of listening to his best friend, who insisted he was ready to date again. And now here he was, waiting for the person who made the reservation at the entrance of a fancy restaurant.

Logan glanced over at the clock hung on the wall. Maybe his nervousness was making him exaggerate. His date was only fifteen minutes late, not two hours like it had felt like.

"Oh you have got to be kidding me." 

A way too familiar voice right behind Logan snapped him out of his thoughts. No, it couldn't be. Turning around, Logan was met with the face of the person who was once his supposed dead boyfriend, Janus. "It looks like we are both not pleased with this situation, at least there is something we can agree on."

Janus rolled his eyes, and Logan couldn't help but stare at how the scar tissue on his ex's face tensed at the simple movement. "Please tell me that you're not here for a blind date."

Logan froze, of course Janus would be the only man in the city he would match with. Unbelievable, Janus had the audacity to lie and stay in hiding for years after faking his death, come back expecting Logan to welcome him with open arms, and now somehow managed to schedule a date with him. Logan would have guessed this was a desperate attempt to try and convince him to get back together if it wasn't for Janus's surprise. He could always be faking it.

Janus huffed, turning to walk out of the restaurant. “Lovely date, really. Please don't call me aga-”

As he tried to get out, Janus was blocked by a stranger who frantically entered the place, leaning roughly against the door as if he was trying to stop someone from getting in. Despite the sudden movement, it didn't look like this man was in the wrong place at all. The dark green suit he wore made him fit right in with the rest of the customers that were previously enjoying their meal before the interruption.

The stranger didn't seem to notice or care about the several pairs of eyes that landed on him, looking for who disturbed the quiet ambiance of the fancy place. He let out a long sigh, almost like a breath of relief, making the massy hairs of his mustache move ever so slightly.

He finally looked up, locking eyes with Janus and smiling brightly. His smile reminded Logan of a predator showing off their teeth to scare their prey, and if it wasn't highly improbable, Logan would have sworn this man had sharp teeth.

“You must be my date! Or at least I hope you are, because I would love to rip that expensive coat off you and destroy your a-”

An employee at the front of the restaurant cleared her throat, reminding this man that they were in a public space and even if everyone could hear his inappropriate fantasies, it didn't mean they wanted to. “Do you have a reservation, sir?”

“Ooh yes! It should be under R. Foley”

Even with his back facing Logan, he could still guess the expression on Janus's face, which was probably not that different from his own.

That was his reservation, their reservation. Logan watched as the man showed his ID to the restaurant's host. “Very well, table for three.” She grabbed three menus and made a sign for the men to follow her.

Table for three. Logan didn't have any time to process the implications of that phrase as the strange man turned to look at him, only now realizing he was staring.

He smirked, his mustache curling up as if it had a mind of its own. "You must be our third person, like what you see?"

Janus groaned next to them. "Did you seriously book a blind date with two people, without telling any of them?"

"Yeah! It's more fun this way!" The man took both Logan and Janus's hands, urging them to follow to their table.

Logan sighed as he let this man drag him. This wouldn't be too bad if it wasn't for Janus being here. The whole reason he wanted to go out was to finally be able to get over him, over what Janus did to him.

Still, neither of them found the will to object to their predicament. Logan wondered why. Was this man's -Remus, as he later introduced himself as- charm really that enticing to lure them in like a siren's song? Was Remus really radiating with such a powerful energy that it was able to dissipate the tension between Janus and Logan?

That seemed to be the case, because time went by without noticing. Unlike when he had first arrived, when fifteen mere minutes felt like hours, Logan had already ordered dessert after what felt like such a short time.

Remus's charisma was really working wonders on them, especially on Janus, who had opened up so easily in the span of one single evening.

Of course, most of what he casually mentioned were facts Logan already knew, but even when they were dating it had taken months for Janus to disclose such a great amount of personal information. Remus managed to achieve what Logan failed to do for months.

There was a hint of jealousy in Logan's heart, he was well aware of that. Not only because of the way Janus could easily flirt with the man who was supposed to be falling for both of them, but because of the clear chemistry between him and Remus. Logan would have felt out of place if it wasn't for Remus's constant encouragement for him to join and even lead the conversation, but he still couldn't help but feel like a third wheel.

Even with the amalgamation of confusing feelings, their evening was very enjoyable. Remus even managed to get Janus and Logan talking to each other, casually joking with each other like old friends.

Just when their last dishes were left on the table, as Remus was about to take a bite of the giant piece of chocolate cake he had ordered, the sound of loud police sirens started getting closer and closer, until it seemed like they stopped right outside the building.

Remus tensed up as soon as he heard the police getting closer, quickly and clumsily fumbling with his pockets, or rather, their contents. "Welp! This has been fun, wish we had time to bang." He took several crumbled dollar bills and threw them on the table.

Logan examined the one that landed closest to him, noticing it was a hundred dollar bill, and at first glance, he could see they all were. How many hundred dollar bills was Remus casually carrying around? 

Logan looked up at Janus, trying to figure out if his ex was just as weirded out by the situation as he was, just in time to see him catch a presentation card Remus had thrown at him like a shiruken. Another one of the same cards hit Logan on the side of his head, falling into the pastry he had yet to eat as he failed to catch it. Logan would blame it on being distracted, but he knew he wouldn’t have been able to catch it even if Remus had his full attention.

Logan could hear Janus snicker as he picked the card up, trying to clean jam that had stained part of the text but only managing to smear it.

“Call me, won’t you? I had the time of my life squeezing myself between whatever your weird sexual tension deal is!” Remus stood up before any of the other two could protest against that statement. “Do not fuck without me okay bye!”

And in the blink of an eye, Remus was out of sight, sprinting to the back of the restaurant.

Left alone in an uncomfortable silence, Janus called a waitress to come over to their table. “I’m getting my dessert to go. We can share Remus for all I care, but we shall never have a date like this again.”

Logan sighed, considering his options for a moment before nodding. “Yes, that would be appropriate considering the circumstances.”

Both men were convinced any hope of any sort of spark reigniting was extinguished that night. Still, Janus couldn’t help but glance back at Logan as they headed in opposite directions. Thinking that was the end of it, Janus walked back home with a creme brulee securely stored in a styrofoam container.

But that was far from the end of their story.

“I refuse to believe this is another coincidence,” Logan stated, looking straight into the eyes of his ex-lover.

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

“Oh yes, because I’m thrilled to see you as well, Logan.” If Janus’s grip on his briefcase’s handle got any stronger, the whole thing might crack open.

Logan huffed, an immature action, but Janus was an expert at getting all sorts of emotions out of him. “I was under the impression you no longer worked on assassination cases?”

Janus simply ignored his question, walking right past Logan over to the front desk of the police station. “Detective Adder, here to investigate the murder of Mister Underwood.”

Logan couldn’t even roll his eyes, childish as ever. He cleared his throat as he walked closer. “You must be mistaken. I’ve been hired to investigate Mister Underwood’s death.”

“You? Wasn’t your last murder case a poisoned dog?”

Logan struggled to show no reaction to the derogatory comment. “Someone close to the victim solicited my services. She is convinced the man arrested for the crime is not guilty, and the real culprit is still out there. There should be a scheduled visitation with the suspect.”

The guy at the front desk, clearly unamused with the rivalry since he didn’t even bother to look up from his computer, replied in a monotonous voice. “There is a visitation scheduled under K. Underwood for two people.”

Janus scoffed. “That is impossible, Mrs. Underwood entrusted only me with this investigation.

“It appears that she didn’t trust your abilities alone and decided to hire someone more qualified to fill the spaces where you would, figuratively, fall flat.” Logan replied, adjusting his tie.

“Look, either you both go in or no one does. Hurry up and decide, so I can go back to work in peace.”

Both detectives let out a sigh at the same time, glancing briefly at each other before nodding.

The front desk guy called a guard in, and they escorted them to the private room reserved for them.

Logan stayed silent as they walked. Janus, however, still had many thoughts to voice about the situation. “I do not need a partner. I cannot believe that rich bitch didn’t inform me she had hired someone else.”

“That ‘rich bitch’, as you call her, is still grieving for her husband. I would have made sure to have the best possible detective investigating to guarantee the real culprit gets a proper sentence,” Logan replied, deciding to contribute to Janus’s complaints.

Logan heard how Janus almost laughed, but was quickly able to suppress the urge. “What happened to Mr. I work alone? Is now really when you finally let me help with a case?”

Logan stopped as the guard closed the door behind them, walking off to get the suspect. “I did not need your help then, and I do not need it now, but I can't go against the customer’s orders. If Mrs. Underwood hired both of us. I trust she has a good reason for it."

Janus stayed silent for way too long, finally letting out a dramatic and elongated groan. “Fine. This is a business matter, and I’m more than capable of working through it.”

A loud buzzing sound echoed through the room before Logan could reply. The door at the other end of the room opened, dragging the heavy metal against the already worn-out floor.

The sound of chains moving around was muffled by a male voice, who casually chatted with the guard about the prison’s food. “Seriously dude, best delicacies I’ve ever tasted! Say, do you know if they have delivery? I’ll definitely want more of this once I get-”

The suspect’s eyes landed on both detectives, who couldn’t seem to catch a break as the day kept hitting them with more surprises. “Well hello there! You two took your sweet time to call me.” Remus smiled brightly, making his mustache curl up in that enticing way that always managed to draw Logan in. He raised his arms, the chains keeping his arms contained rattled with the movement. “I would have preferred to see you again without these, but we can definitely work around them, or with them if that’s more your style.”

Janus pinched the bridge of his nose. “There better be a hidden camera in here because this is way too much of a coincidence.”

“At least there is something that we can agree on.” Logan took a deep breath and stepped forward, leaving his briefcase on the table in the middle of the room. “I am afraid neither Janus nor I are here to resume our encounter from the other night. Please, Remus, take a seat.”

Remus’s expression dropped as Logan explained, but he still obeyed and sat down. “Please, this wouldn’t be the weirdest place where I’ve had sex. We can definitely keep the party going!”

“You are the primary suspect in the murder of one of Florida’s biggest jewelry companies owner, and having sex with two men who you've been on one date with is your main priority?”

“Duh,” Remus shrugged, “that asshole I got as a lawyer won’t believe a word I say. If I get the electric chair or whatever, then I want to enjoy myself before I get my one-way ticket to hell.”

Logan raised an eyebrow, sitting on one of the chairs at the opposite edge of the table. “Are you implying our suspicions are correct, and you are not responsible for Mr. Underwood’s death?”

“Right on the money, nerdy Wolverine.”

Janus opened his briefcase, pulling out the pictures of the crime scene. “Do you recognize this place?”

Remus looked at the pictures as they were laid in front of him. He placed a hand on his chin, forcing the other one to follow due to the handcuffs. "Yeah! That’s The Plume!”

“The Plume? Is there anything that could link you to this place?” Logan wanted to be the first to start questioning Remus, even if he was wondering how Janus got those pictures in the first place. But that wasn’t relevant at the moment. If his companion had resources Logan could use to his advantage, he wouldn’t question it.

Remus almost snorted at the question. “Link me to it? I know the place better than my own dick! I was practically raised there! My parents had some gambling issues or whatever and the owner agreed to take me as payment. Uncle Sleep taught me everything I know!”

“And that gives you every reason to be at the crime scene when the murder happened.” Janus finally took a seat next to Logan, and the other detective was surprised when neither moved their chairs away.

“Yeah, doesn’t mean I did it.” Remus crossed his arms, leaning back in his chair. “It’s a casino, do you know how many bodies we’ve seen? Those fancy rich men don’t like it when you owe them money. That gives you a first-class ticket to your death sentence.”

Logan raised an eyebrow. How many crimes have been committed in this place? And how many of them had gone unreported or unsolved? “Your involvement with The Plume is not the only reason you’re locked up.” He opened his own briefcase, resisting the urge to give Janus an ‘I can do it too’ look, and took several documents out.

“The cause of death was an unidentified toxin. Whatever it was, it’s rare enough to go under forensic radar, if they were using technology from the 80’s. When the police were looking for clues, your laptop was confiscated in order to look at the security footage. They went a step further and registered your internet search history instead.” Logan slid the paper across the table, intending to give it to Remus. It was, however, intercepted by Janus.

The detective scanned through the paper, snickering at the apparent coincidences. “You’re the only person I know who would be stupid enough to give this much evidence to the police.” Janus turned the document to show it to Remus, pointing as he read. “Fastest acting toxins. Flavorless poisons. Most poisonous plants in the U.S. How to poison someone without being caught? Seriously?”

Remus squinted to look at the evidence that incriminated him. “That’s what this is about? My stupid research?” Remus huffed, leaning back again and almost knocking his chair over. “I knew it was a waste of time! No one cares about accuracy in murder stories! But no, that stupid editor said my first draft was too unrealistic.”

“What are you talking about?”

Janus groaned. “Don’t tell me this is what I think it is.”

Logan looked between both men, his mind not being able to figure out the information both of them seemed to know. “What? What is it that he’s not telling us?”

Janus looked into the inner pocket of his coat, pulling out the presentation card Remus had given them on their date night. “I kept wondering what ‘Arranger of textual nightmare fuel’ meant.” He looked over at Logan. “I thought you of all people would figure it out. Looks like the rat man over here wasn’t getting a second date from you.”

Logan was quick to prove Janus wrong, pulling out the presentation card and ignoring how they were both carrying Remus’s contact information. He set it down on the table next to the one Janus had just pulled out. “The words on mine are smudged. As much as I love blackberry jam, I must admit it is quite a pain to clean up.”

Logan stared at the clean card for a moment, trying to pull apart the words and decipher them. Then something clicked in his mind. “You’re an author.”

“No shit Sherlock.” Remus twisted his mustache between two fingers. “With those police men looking through my laptop like they were trying to find the clit, I’m surprised they didn’t find my manuscript! Could have given me an honest review before sentencing me to die of boredom!”

“This is the most cliché case I’ve ever worked on.” Janus leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. “Are these Google searches related to said manuscript?”

Remus stood up abruptly, not giving the detectives any heads up as he jumped on the table, which miraculously didn’t break. “1979! A retired mafia boss is dedicating his life to preserving every plant at risk of extinction. After years of growing familiar with both the positive and negative effects of several toxins, just as he is ready to share his discoveries with the world, his old nemesis finds and murders his family! And now he seeks revenge! Will he be able to keep his humanity? Or realize the entire human race is doomed to an existence of cruelty?!”

The sound of the large metal door being dragged open was mostly muffled by Remus’s maniac laugh. The guards barged in and took the chain man from his arms, pulling him down from the table.

Such a passionate outburst. Good thing the officers were too busy with Remus to notice the blushing detectives struggling to maintain their professionalism.

Logan cleared his throat. “Wait, we are not done with the interrogation.”

“This man was going to attack you, and you want to stay longer in this room with him?” One of the guards spoke as they pulled Remus out the door.

“Ooh, harder please.”

“That was not an attack.” Janus stood up, walking over to the guards to stop them from taking the suspect. “A simple energy outburst is not enough to frighten or hurt us. We were promised all the time we needed as long as it was within visitation hours.”

The guard sighed, pulling on Remus’s chains and shoving him towards the detectives. “If you want to put your security at risk, be my guest. But if another one of those outbursts happens, we’ll be obligated to take the prisoner away.”

Remus almost bumped into Janus, but was able to stabilize himself before that. “I’ll be good! Or daddy and daddy can punish me if I’m naughty!”

The other guard made a disgusted noise as both of them walked out, closing the door again.

Logan sighed, gesturing for Janus and Remus to come close again. “If what you’re telling us is true, Mr. Underwood’s cause of death is way too much of a coincidence. Someone wanted to frame you, and they knew exactly how to do it. Did you share your story with anyone aside from that editor you mentioned?”

“Oh yeah! I give a copy to anyone who gets too drunk at The Plume! But most never come back for some reason.”

Both detectives groaned. That just left too many possibilities, too many suspects.

“We’re going to have to get you out of here.”

“Why is there always a fire involved when you are around?”

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

Janus scoffed, raising his hands up as if Logan’s glare could shoot him. “I was with you the whole time! And I only have one fire in my crime history. Thank you very much.”

In any other circumstance, Remus would have laughed or at least giggled at the scene. He would have admired how the flames danced around spreading chaos while his fuck-toys argued as background noise.

Any other circumstances didn’t involve The Plume being the fire’s victim.

As filthy and sketchy as the place could look, this was Remus’s home, the place that raised him. And he could only watch from the backseat of a minivan.

Remus simply sighed. “There goes the tickets and client records. Now what, lovebirds?”

“If the fire department is not here yet, then the fire was ignited not that long ago. The culprit couldn’t have gone far.” Logan took an instant camera out of his bag, snapping a quick picture of the burning casino. “We should drive around and see if Remus recognices any person passing by.”

Janus started the van, not waiting for Logan to order him around. “Exactly what I was going to suggest.”

It took an hour of constant arguing for Remus to finally have enough of this situationship Logan and Janus had. 

“A’right, you two bickering my ears out is fun the first half hour, but come on! Do you really hate each other’s guts that much? I can’t even concentrate on people’s faces with your voices pulling on my brain until it bleeds!” Remus leaned forward, poking his head through the space between the two front seats. “Stop the car, pretty please.”

Janus and Logan shared a look, sighing but keeping their mouths shut this time.

The minivan stopped right in front of a convenience store. “So, I’m putting you two in timeout while I get some snacks for the road trip. Cool? Cool”

Janus pressed the button to lock the doors and looked back at Remus through the review mirror. “Not so fast. You’re under our care. We were allowed to take you out of prison as a witness, under the condition we would get you back before your final trial. One of us has to go with you.”

Remus tsked, slowly shaking his head. “Fat chance, inspector gadget.” He pulled on the car’s lock and opened the door, stepping out before any of the detectives could stop him.

“Remus this is not-” Logan was just about to follow him, but even with the door opened, there was something else preventing him from going further. He looked back to find his right hand handcuffed to Janus’s left, trapping them with each other.

Remus closed Logan’s door, leaning on the edge of the opened window. “Those are your get-along handcuffs. They go out when I come back.”

Janus raised his hand, staring at their situation in disbelief. “Were you able to take them off this whole time?!”

“I’m full of surprises, Janny!” Remus grinned, reaching to rub his wrist. “They were starting to ache too much, but I kept them on since you were like super paranoid about me escaping. And now you two need them more than me!

Logan grabbed Remus with his free hand. “Remus, we are trying to get you out of jail. Come back inside and take the handcuffs off.”

Remus simply pried Logan’s hand off him, stopping for a second to leave a gentle kiss on it. “Relax L. Why would I want to run away from such cuties? Until we get some actual action, you two won't get rid of me that easily.” Remus let go, taking advantage of Logan’s flustered state to lean forward and take the detective’s wallet out of his jacket. He turned around to walk towards the store. “Be back soon!”

Janus tugged on Logan’s hand, trying to get a closer look at the handcufs’ lock. He only got a tug back in return. “Cut it out already. These petty and childish actions are what got us into this situation in the first place.”

Logan scoffed. “Oh, I am the petty one? Are you going to drop the act and tell me how you managed to sneak into my case? Or will you keep pretending this is a coincidence?”

“It is a coincidence! Why would I want to work with someone who hates my guts? Who can’t even look me in the eye anymore?”

“And whose fault is that?” 

As much as Logan hated to admit it, Janus was right. He understood he could physically have a conversation eye to eye with his ex-boyfriend, but there was something else that kept him from actually doing it. Even now, in the middle of an argument, Logan stared at the street in front of them, focusing on anything but Janus.

Janus, on the other hand, couldn’t focus on anything but Logan. No one else would be able to read the man’s expressions, thinking his resting face was always the same every time, but Janus knew where to look.

The vein that popped on his forehead meant that Logan was annoyed. His eyes curved slightly downwards when he was sad. He adjusted his tie when he was nervous. Small traits and actions that everyone else would miss, but not Janus. Janus knew him too well.

“I could ask you to forgive me a million times, but with the way I hurt you, you have every right to reject them.” Janus looked away, staring at the street as if he was trying to decipher what Logan found so interesting about it. “We don’t have to see each other again after the case is over. I can move to another city and leave you and Remus alone. Stop with the coincidences and blind dates.”

Logan sighed, for once unable to find the words to reply. He wanted to scream, to yell at Janus and let out all this rage he'd been bottling up ever since he reappeared. Logan wanted to make sure Janus knew just how much it hurt, how much Logan hated the feeling of loneliness he left behind. But losing his temper would be counterproductive. 

“Remus makes a very good point. We will accomplish nothing if we keep getting distracted with nonsense bickering.” Logan wanted to get over with this as long as possible, get the payment he was promised and go back to his life alone.

“Whatever our relationship is, with each other and with Remus, it is not important right now. If I am more than capable of figuring out this case on my own, together we can find the real culprit twice as fast.”

Janus rolled his eyes, trying to hide the smile that was forming on his face. “You were always a better detective anyway. I was only dragged along when you used to let me get involved.”

“Falsehood. You have many more solved cases in your professional life than I.”

“Only because yours always had a dead end, not even the brightest minds could find their way out of it.” Janus glanced down at their handcuffed hands. “You need to stop being so hard on yourself. Those deaths or disappearances weren’t your fault,” Janus finally gathered enough courage to grab Logan’s hand. “None of them.”

Logan’s first instinct was to pull back, to pull strongly enough to break the dam handcuffs and be able to run away. But he didn’t, he only stared at Janus’s hand over his for what felt like hours.

Should he let his guard down and let Janus explain? Every time he tried to contact him, Logan only closed the door on his face, hung up the phone, blocked the number. Whatever the reason was, Logan didn’t want to hear it. What could possibly make you abandon the one you claimed was the love of your life?

Before any of them could speak, Remus rushed into the car. He dropped the several bags of chips and canned sodas on the minivan’s floor. “That chick! With the Dr. Pepper bottle!”

Remus pointed at the store’s exit through the window, successfully pulling the detectives out of their conversation. “She came to The Plumme a couple of weeks ago. Poor girl thought I was straight and wanted a fun night. Gave her a discount and a copy of my book instead.”

“Well, it’s the only lead we have.” Janus let go of Logan to start the car, stopping when he realized he was still restrained. Janus gave Remus an annoyed glance.

“Oh right, that.” Remus reached forward, removing the handcuffs way too quickly for the detectives to figure out how he did it. And just as quickly as he took them off, they were locked around Remus’s wrists again. “What are we waiting for? Go!”

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

Turns out, following a random girl in a white minivan wasn’t the best way to go unnoticed. 

The girl had been able to figure out there was someone following her, which resulted in a full-on persecution. Janus had been forced to park the van once she ran off into an alley, and Logan and Remus rushed after her.

Remus completely misunderstood the idea of following someone without them noticing, or simply chose to ignore it. “Let me ask you something.” 

Logan sighed, even knowing Remus as little as he did, it was enough to know he wouldn’t shut up. “Go on, quietly.”

“Why are you working on my case together? I don’t know what your deal is, but I haven’t heard you say anything remotely nice to each other, not even when we had dinner. Why be partners if you can’t stand each other?”

“It wasn’t our choice. Mr. Underwood's wife hired both of us, for some ridiculous reason.” Logan still couldn’t believe how his work alone wasn’t enough to satisfy Mrs. Underwood. 

“That’s impossible,” Remus stated, still following close behind Logan. “His wife died like five years ago. He really fucked his gambling game that night, and we gained a shit ton of money.”

Logan stopped, so abruptly that Remus didn’t have time to stop himself before bumping into Logan. If Mrs. Underwood was dead, then who hired them?

“Looking for someone?” 

A female voice was Logan’s only warning before a sharp pain on his nape made his vision blurry and his legs weak. 

Logan tried to lean against Remus, a wall or anything that was within reach, but his mind was getting foggier with each second. Logan fell to his knees as he heard the apparently distant sound of a fight. He couldn’t figure out what was going on, his only clues being Remus’s groans and the sound of something -someone?- being punched.

Whatever was going on, Logan didn’t have enough strength to keep himself awake.

The pain in the back of his neck had mostly dissipated by now. Whatever he was hit with was only effective in leaving him unconscious for most likely a short amount of time.

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

Logan tried to touch the wound, wanting to make sure it wasn’t bleeding, but found his hands once again restrained, this time by a rope.

Next to him, Remus’s familiar groans made Logan realize the man next to him was in a similar predicament. Great, they had been kidnapped.

Logan squinted as he looked around. Despite still having his glasses, his vision and all his other senses were numbed by the strong burnt smell this place had.

Reaching down to touch the ground, Logan could notice it was still warm.

There wasn’t much to see once his vision cleared, only the remains of some sort of establishment. Every piece of damaged furniture was covered with ash, and as Logan coughed he noticed the slight tints of smoke still in the air.

Looking up at the high ceiling above them, Logan found something that confirmed his suspicions. A cracked LED sign, long turned off that read “The Plume”

Logan tried to look back, catching a glance of brunette and white hair flopping around as Remus struggled. “Remus?”

“You’re awake!” 

Logan could have sworn the pilar they were tied to moved with how strong Remus’s pull on their restraints were. “What is going on?”

“I could ask you the same thing, detective.” That same female voice from the alley made itself present, accompanied by footstapes that echoed through the burnt casino.

Once the girl stepped in front of him, Logan could actually try and take a good look at her. She was young and thin. Her fragile-looking frame and blonde ponytail made her look like an innocent teenager.

“Impressive work you have here.” She dropped one of the pages with a copy of Remus’s search history in front of Logan. “You have no evidence, and yet, you somehow found your way to me.”

“And who may you be? If I’m allowed to know.” Logan looked down at the discarder page, just in time to see a high-heel boot pressing down on it.

The girl giggled, “if you have no idea, how did you follow me all the way here?”

“Thanks to me, darling!” Remus yelled from the opposite side of the column. “You just made such a good impression the first time we met. Heck, you may have straightened me out!”

She scoffed. “I should have known you would be stupid enough to mix us up.”

“Us?”

A loud bang announced the presence of another girl as she walked towards them. “Found this one lurking around, another detective.”

Janus groaned as his captor pushed him to the floor, right in front of Logan.

This second girl was a lot more muscular than the first, but they were the same height and most likely the same age. Given the fact that their faces were identical.

Twin number two, as Logan labeled them in his brain, blew a strand of hair out of her face as she looked towards the tied man. Logan could swear he saw her expression changing for a second the moment their eyes locked, looking almost scared.

The other girl turned to face Janus, pulling on his hair to take a better look at him. Logan could observe the same expression her sister had just a moment ago, once again vanishing as quickly as it formed. She threw Janus back to the floor. “I didn’t know you tried to hook up with the book guy.”

Number two scoffed, “Because I knew you would start acting crazy about it. Sue me for having a terrible gaydar.”

“There’s two of them?! Come on! Can you have this conversation in front of me?!” Remus kicked his legs, as if the pillar would actually move. “You know, where I can actually see what’s going on?!”

“There’s no need.” Twin number one spoke, “it’s not like you’ll be able to testify with your tongue turned to ashes.” She snapped her fingers, and twin number two walked out of the room.

Number one crouched to be eye level with Logan and Janus, who had his hands and ankles tied together. “Looks like someone didn’t believe our murderer’s story and sent you two to snoop around. What gave it away, huh? Did we choose a way too incompetent guy for our bad guy?Is it really so hard to believe that he could murder an Underwood?” She stood up, walking around to face Remus. “I thought he looked the part.”

Remus grinned. “Thanks! The whole serial killer aesthetic is what I try to go for!”

Janus looked over at Logan, shifting his sight between his wrist and the girl who had them trapped once he made sure to have his ex’s attention.

Logan seemed to catch the hint, making sure to look at the girl's wrist once she circled back around to them.

Twin number one chuckled at Remus’s comments. “I thought everyone would overlook that lost puppy look you naturally have. I’m surprised to see I was wrong.”

Logan’s vision of the girl's bracelet around her wrist was limited due to the long-sleeved blouse she wore, but the Underwood’s family emblem was easy to distinguish, so unique and extravagant that it would be impossible not to recognize it.

As twin number two walked in, carrying a plastic gasoline can, Logan was able to take a better look at the bracelet. Matching jewelry with the Underwood’s emblem, accompanied by a golden letter “K” charm.

Janus chuckled. “You thought you were so clever, didn’t you? Shifting the blame to Remus, thinking he’d be sentenced for your father’s death.”

Both twins froze, and number one glared down at Janus. “How did you-”

“That is not important,” Logan stated as he looked up at the teenagers. “That part was easy to deduce, but, why would you hire us to solve the crime you committed?”

Something seemed to click on the twins’ minds as they turned to look at each other. “You hired a detective?!” They asked in unison.

Huh, that solves the double booking question.

“Oh you little shit.” Twin number one reached behind her to grab a gun, pointing it at her sister. “I knew I couldn’t trust you, you wanted to be the only heiress from the beginning.”

“You’re one to talk.” Twin number two placed the gasoline can in front of her, trying to use it as a shield. “Killing dad was your idea. Why arrange this whole ordeal if he wanted only one of us to have his fortune in the first place?”

Number one tsked, not lowering the gun. “You knew what dad’s conditions were. There was no way I would get married before you. Even a gay guy thinks you’re attractive!”

“Nah.” Remus’s voice cut through the twins’ argument as he walked around the pillar. “I was just bluffing.”

Remus gave no other warning before launching towards twin number one, trying to grab her hand and take the gun from her.

Logan and Janus had no time to be surprised at Remus’s ability to free himself, again, they had to figure out how to do it before the fight between the twins and Remus shifted to them. 

Logan made his best effort to push himself up with only his legs, leaning against the column he was tied to for support. Janus, on the other hand, tried to wiggle his ankles free so he could stand.

And then, a gunshot.

Logan closed his eyes instinctively, afraid of what he might find when he opened them. The detective heard a thud, and someone gasping for air, a high pitched voice.

Letting out a relieved sigh, Logan opened his eyes to see twin number two on the floor. Her plan of using the red can as a shield failed as he had predicted, seeing as it laid next to her with two holes on either side, letting the heavy-scented liquid spill out.

Logan expected to hear cries, or any sort of sound from twin number one that showed at least some remorse for husting his sister. But instead, she started laughing. “How is that for weak and defensless, Kara?”

Remus used that moment of distraction to kick number one’s hand, making her drop the gun. Remus kicked it far before she could pick it back up. “You’re done. You will rot in jail like you wanted me to.”

She huffed, looking at the three men. “Oh, I’m so scared. You still think you have the upper hand. How cute.” 

Twin number one ran to pick up the gasoline can, and kept running until she reached The Plume’s main entrance. Having been too distracted by the twins’ fight, they failed to notice the pile of dynamite where number one was now dumping the rest of the gasoline. “My dad and sister wanted to keep me from what’s rightfully mine. Look where that got them. Do you think I’ll have mercy for a bunch of strangers?”

She took out a lighter from her back pocket. “Say hello to my father when you rot in he-”

Remus’s fist shut her up as he punched her in the face. “Why does everyone think dramatic villain speeches work?”

Number one punched back, and they started fighting once again.

The detectives were able to stand up, but Janus still had his ankles tied. He had to half shuffle half jump to Logan. “I’ll try to undo the knot on your hands.”

Logan only nodded, not being able to take his eyes off Remus. He wouldn’t last long with all the damage he had already received, and Logan was trying to find a different escape route or something nearby they could use as a weapon, anything to keep Remus from-

Boom.

.

.

Janus was able to free Logan’s hands before the explosion.

.

.

Logan undid Janus’s restraints once he was free.

.

.

The explosion caused the ceiling over the main entrance to fall, blocking it.

.

.

Remus was on the other side, safe from the flames.

.

Logan covered his face with his hand, trying to stop the fast-forming smoke from entering his lungs. If he hadn’t been able to find a way out before, the flames and ashes made it impossible now.

He felt a hand on his back, Janus’s hand. His ex pulled him down to the floor, forcing Logan to lay on his stomach. “Stay down, we can crawl to an exit.”

“Right, because you’re an expert at surviving fires.”

Janus groaned. “Is now the time to make me feel guilty?”

“We are trapped in a burning building!” Logan yelled, coughing afterwards. “If we’re going to die, I’d say the time is as best as it's going to get.”

“Fine,” Janus spoke after a minute of silence. “If you want us to waste oxygen in this, be my guest.”

Logan rolled his eyes. “You wanted to explain, didn’t you? Then explain, Janus. What could possibly be the reason you decided to let everyone believe you were dead, and abandon me?!”

“I didn’t abandon you!”

“Really? Because disappearing for four years and leaving me to grief the love of my life sounds like abandonment to me.” Logan turned around, laying on his back and trying to look up among the smoke.

Janus sighed, trying to find the words to reply, to explain. “I wasn’t supposed to be gone that long.”

“Is that the best excuse you have?”

“Would you let me finish?”

Logan rolled his eyes. “Fine.”

Janus coughed. They didn’t have much time for this. “The last case I worked on led me to very dangerous people, all because I followed the clue you warned me about.” That last comment wasn’t to stroke Logan’s ego, it was true. Janus had been stupidly impulsive and ignored Logan’s judgment, and that only brought problem after problem.

“They threatened to hurt you. I tried to get them off my back for months, to collect enough evidence to prove they were guilty, but they only got closer and closer to us. Your brother almost died in an accident they caused. I couldn’t risk them going after you.”

Alright, that was a slightly better excuse.

Logan sniffed and fakely coughed, trying to blame the smoke and heat for his tears. “Why didn’t you tell me? What I said before was true. You and I could solve any case twice as fast.”

“I wanted to protect you and panicked,” Janus rubbed his eyes as they started to sting. “The plan was to have everyone believe I was dead, solve the case and go back to you. But it was a lot harder than I anticipated. I went to you as soon as those people were behind bars, where they couldn’t hurt you.”

“And I didn’t want to listen.”

Janus snickered. “I wasn’t going to mention it, but yes, you refused to listen.”

Logan coughed, for real this time. He could feel his throat aching more and more with each second. “I had never felt such an intense amount of sadness. Every day for four years, I felt like a piece of my heart had been pulled out, as ilogical as it was. I couldn’t logic my way out of it. And when I felt like I was doing better, there you were, a ghost in my doorway. The sadness turned to rage. I suffered for so long, I cried so much, and it was all for nothing. You were alive, and I wasted so much time thinking I would never see you again.” Logan closed his eyes, letting the urge to yell and be angry wash away with the ash that covered him.

“It wasn’t fair to you. I get that. I wanted us to be together more than anything and I didn’t even consider how my decision would make you feel. I thought we could go back to what we had, like nothing happened.” Janus sighed, letting the tears roll down his cheeks. “I’m sorry, Logan.”

Logan couldn’t keep talking. His throat hurt, his eyes stung. He could only reach and grab Janus’s hand, weakly intertwining their fingers.

Janus closed his eyes, feeling Logan’s pulse and the way their hearbeats synced one last time.

.

.

.

Logan was awakened by the sound of sirens.

.

.

Janus laid next to him as the paramedics treated them.

.

Remus’s voice kept them grounded. It gave the detectives a reason not to give up.

.

.

And they didn’t

“I told you I knew every corner of that place!” Remus stood next to Logan’s hospital bed, leaving the bouquet he bought in a vase on the bedside table. “I couldn’t let you two in there to die without me!”

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

Logan chuckled, shaking his head in amusement. “You are the craziest guy I’ve dated.”

Remus sat next to Logan and held his hand, stroking his thumb over the scars that now covered the detective’s forearm. “But you looove me, like you love Jan Jan!”

“Love is a strong word, Remus.” Logan smiled softly as he blushed. He looked up, spotting the face of the person who was once his supposed dead boyfriend, alive and well, giving him that smile that had made Logan fall for him in the first place. “But we’ll get there. A second date would be a great start.”

[intruloceitweek]

I thought I liked where this was going. I am concerned.

On a Butterfly's Wing, Ch. 17: Turn the Page

A graphical representation of chaos, the Lorenz attractor.

Prev - Turn the Page - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3052 - Rated: T - CW: None? SAT reference

Logan Croft's night with Janus and Remus grants him a new understanding when he wakes in his own bed the following morning.

Saturday, February 15, 2025

A cold dawn was already bleeding over the horizon when Logan woke in his own bed, his still-unfinished Chaos book clutched to his chest. He closed it, sour, quiet shame creeping up his throat at his bookmark’s snail march of progress through its pages.

He sat up and swung his legs over the side of the bed, a miracle of circadian rhythms he’d woken when he did. His watch and phone were dead. Nightstand drawer open, his hand hovered over it with the book.

On a good night, he might get three or four pages in before sleep took him. Or before Kelly turned off the light when she came to bed. Was it actually for the best that he hadn’t yet finished it?

The book was how all of this started.

A few nights after Logan had finally begun reading it, he’d fallen asleep wondering about the turbulence of his own life, of the thousand winds and waves shifting him along his path.

He’d imagined himself as one of those dots on the butterfly-shaped graphs, swirling in parallel with thousands, millions, billions of other dots, other hims, experiencing their worlds from vastly different perspectives.

The next morning, Logan had woken in Remus’ arms. He’d thought it was all a dream.

But after last night? With the taste of curry—and Janus and Remus’ kisses—fresh on his lips, the heat of their skin still warming his palms, Logan could no longer convince himself these thoughts had only been dreams.

His echoed experiences, these glimpses back into his real life running parallel to these dreamlike days seemed to confirm it.

Whatever this was, it was real. And he wasn’t the only one experiencing it.

Most disconcerting was he couldn’t shake the memory of impossible feelings, impossible encounters. Confusion and hurt squeezing his heart when Janus looked him in the eye and told him not to call him ‘Jay.’

Hard, guarded eyes staring at him from beneath Remus’ neon green curls cutting through him just as sharply.

Protective concern roiling at the mention of Devin and Roman.

The horror of waking up next to a stranger, his own wife.

While Logan had been living in dreams, others, other hims, had been waking to nightmares.

And it was his fault.

Book gripped tight in one hand, Logan stood and went downstairs. Barefoot and pajama clad, he grabbed his car keys and dashed outside before he could reconsider. He opened the trunk. Regular runs to the thrift store with batch after batch of clothes or toys the boys had outgrown had become a habit over the years and the beat-up donation box still sat in the back of the Pilot. He dropped the book inside and closed the trunk.

If that book was what had started all of this, then let this be the end of it. Shivering, his bare feet finally registered the icy pavement outside and Logan slipped back inside, grateful the cold had kept his quiet street empty of neighbors wondering at his behavior.

He’d planned to go upstairs and shower, to ready himself for the day. But as he passed the kitchen, the heavy, commingled scents of rose petals and roasted meat turned his stomach.

“Plans changed,” he muttered to himself, staring at the remnants of the birthday dinner he’d so carefully planned. Kelly’s bouquet had already begun to wilt—the traditional gift of fickle, fragile roses for Valentine’s day truly were a cruel cosmic joke.

Toes still slightly numb from outside, he moved automatically toward the mess. He cleared the table first. Unused plates and glasses went into the dishwasher, napkins and tablecloth went back to the linen closet. He—the other he—had left out the bourguignon last night. With perverse satisfaction, Logan dropped the entire dish into the garbage, lid, contents and all. Then, once again racing out in nothing but pajamas, dumped the bag into the trash bin outside.

He left the flowers where they were. When he’d brought them home yesterday afternoon, he’d trimmed the ends under water and placed them immediately into the recommended solution to feed cut flowers. He’d set them on the table where they would be free from draughts and still get a little morning light from the kitchen window, if that mattered at all to a plant separated from its roots.

There was nothing else he could do to make them thrive. Either they’d still be alive when Kelly managed to return home. Or they wouldn’t.

Logan took a few more minutes to wipe down the table and the counters, then prepared a cup of instant coffee. Finally, kitchen clean and dishwasher humming, He went upstairs to charge his devices and to shower.

This was his life. It was time he faced the rest of it.

~

Sunday, May 4, 2025

A warm spring rain pattered the windshield as Logan and Patton sat parked outside the school.

“Number two pencils?” Logan asked, running through the checklist Patton had written out the night before.

“Check!” Patton nodded, tapping the rubber-banded bundle of freshly sharpened Ticonderogas in his lap.

“ID?” Logan asked next, the short list of what Patton was permitted to bring into his test room making the exercise more of a game to reassure them both rather than actually double checking he hadn’t forgotten something.

“That, too!” Patton grinned, wiggling the badge hanging from his neck. “Got my water bottle, too, and the proctor’s got snacks.”

For as much as Logan had dodged the shameful threat of an ‘evaluation’ during his own school years, the changing times and his sons’ own IEP accommodations had granted each of them a flexibility he would be forever grateful for.

“Phone?” he asked at last, holding out his hand.

Nodding, and still smiling—if a little resigned—Patton placed his phone in his father’s palm. “It’s all yours for the next, well…” His grin faltered, eyes flicking out to through the windshield. Patton’s IEP also meant he would be in the testing room until he either finished the exam or he quit, giving neither of them a set time for him to be picked up.

“Oh!” he suddenly cried out, light returning to his smile as his eyes caught on a man wearing a STAFF badge leaving the school. With a polished, shaven head and a smile that cut through the gloomy morning, he greeted nervous-looking students as they filed into the main entrance.

“Mr. Hopkins!” Patton cried, throwing open his car door. “C’mon, Dad!” he turned to Logan. “Come meet Mr. Hopkins!”

Without waiting for Logan’s response, Patton bolted from the car and up the path to the school. “Some things never change,” Logan chuckled to himself, grateful that some things did, noting Patton had managed to remember to check the crosswalk for careless drivers before running the last dozen or so yards to greet his teacher.

As he locked the car doors, Logan noticed the teacher’s smile warm in recognition, meeting Patton’s flurry of high fives—and his exuberance.

“Right on time!” he cheered, giving him one last high five, laughing when Patton spun and caught the gesture with a flourish.

“Dad!” Patton called, noticing his approach. “Dad, this is Mr. Hopkins!” He bounced on his toes, his earlier worries washed away in the drizzle. “Mr. H, this is my dad.”

“Logan Croft,” Logan introduced himself, reaching to shake Hopkin’s hand. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. Pat speaks very highly of you. You’re the one who helped them adapt Cabaret.”

“Guilty as charged, Mr. Croft,” Hopkins laughed, reaching out to ruffle Patton’s hair.

“Oh, and, please call me Logan,” he added. Croft sounded… wrong somehow.

Smiling, Hopkins shook his hand. “Good to meet you, Logan. Pat’s told me so much about you. And, likewise, call me—“

A bell rang out from the school and Hopkins checked his watch. “You should go get checked in, Pat,” he said. “Go right in. They’ll give you your room number at the main desk.” Then he winked. “I’m monitor on your floor and Ms. Dylan is your proctor,” he added, tapping his lips. Hopkins then turned to Logan. “Pat’s in good hands.”

“I see he is,” Logan nodded, laughing and hugging back when Patton flung himself into his arms. “I’ll be here when you get out, Pat. Good luck!”

“Thanks, Dad. See you inside, Mr. H.!” Patton waved and was swallowed up by the school. The bright—if overcast—sky turned the doors reflective, obscuring Logan’s view of Patton’s path to the main office.

“He’s in the best possible hands,” Hopkins said, his voice a little softer. He waved at a passing student, gamely exchanging a high five with another. “He’ll have as much time as he needs and he’s the only one in the room—besides Ms. Dylan, of courst.”

Breathing a little deeper, it occurred to Logan he’d needed that reassurance more than he’d realized. “Thank you,” he said, consciously relaxing the grip on his satchel strap. “And thank you for your help. I… Pat told me you did more than a bit of advocacy on his behalf.”

“Happy to help,” he said, attention drawn by another student shuffling inside. He waved at the pair dawdling at the far end of the path. “Get in gear, guys! I close the door in three minutes!”

Logan watched as they jogged the rest of the way, laughing as they made their way inside.

Hopkins checked his watch again, nodding. “You can always spot the sophomores.”

“Indeed,” Logan agreed. The pair did seem to lack the trembling stress of the other students streaming in for the exam; advanced juniors, shoulders heavy with the weight of expectation.

As a technical senior, it was rare for Patton to take the exam so late, well after when colleges would consider the score for a fall admittance. He appeared to be the only one in his year sitting for the exam today.

Watching him closely, Hopkins nodded again. “You made the right call, you know,” he said, seeming to read his mind. “Pat’s going to have a much better chance at success with another year in high school.”

Arms crossed tight over his belly, Logan sighed. “It…” He looked out over the trees dotting the parking lot. Most had already lost their spring blooms. “It seemed counterproductive to have him attempt to make up three difficult classes over summer school.”

He let his eyes fall closed, the next thirteen or so months were… daunting. “It means one more year until he can get—go to college, but…”

Hopkins stepped a little closer. “There’s nothing that says this year needs to be like the one it’s followed,” he said quietly.

His tone left Logan feeling he wasn’t just talking about the high school. But the moment passed and Hopkins gestured around the school. “With only three required classes, Pat’ll have plenty of time for theatre and film electives. And, if he likes, he can satisfy the history class with a course a friend of mine teaches at the community college.”

Logan frowned. “Isn’t it too late to enroll in the dual-campus program?”

“Only if you don’t have a teacher’s recommendation,” Hopkins grinned. He waved on another group of stragglers and turned to Logan. “I’ve got a session with Pat and his guidance counselor next week. You should come. We can talk it out.”

“That would be…” Logan coughed, relief and hope clogging the words in his throat. Maybe they could make this final, extra year of high school work to Patton’s advantage. “That would be most appreciated.”

Hopkins just smiled and scanned the parking lot again. “So, what are you up to while Patton is testing?” he asked, managing to both watch the path up to the front door and Logan’s expression.

“Ah… Well, my wife is traveling. For business,” Logan added and Hopkins nodded slowly. “I have a few errands to keep me busy. Local, of course,” he emphasized, gesturing to the neighborhood around them. “After that… Perhaps I will grab a coffee and ‘camp out’ in the parent parking lot to wait for Patton to get out.” Logan waggled the phone he still gripped in his other hand. “He can’t call, so I plan to keep a close watch.”

“Oh.” Hopkins frowned lightly, thoughtful. Then he smiled. “You know, I’m more than happy to let you know when Pat’s finished.” He looked up at the sound of a car pulling up, waving another handful of students toward the door as they piled out, one with shoes only half-laced. He grinned at Logan. “Pat can’t have his phone, but I can have mine.”

“I… I wouldn’t want to trouble you.”

“It’s no trouble at all.” Hopkins eyes were on him again. “I’ll let Pat know the plan, too.”

“Thank you. He will be… relieved.” Logan nodded and tucked Patton’s phone into an inner pocket in his bag. He double checked the buckles on the front flap, suddenly adrift as he re-considered the day ahead.

Hopkins patted his arm and when Logan looked up he was smiling. “This is a slog. Take time for yourself while you can. Y’know, if you’re a coffee drinker, Downpour is just down the street.” He pointed past the entrance. “Quiet, good coffee…”

“If… if you are entirely certain… I…” His stomach grumbled. While he’d ensured Patton had finished breakfast before they’d left, it was only then Logan remembered his own plate sat untouched on the kitchen counter. “To be honest, I have been curious about that particular cafe. Pun notwithstanding, of course.”

“Of course,” Hopkins chuckled. “And if you tell them it’s your birthday, they’ll throw in a one of their tiramisu cupcakes on the house.”

Logan tilted his head. “Pat told you…”

Hopkins laughed. “It was his very first thought when the test dates were announced two months ago. It’s good motivation to keep him on task during the exam, actually.” He shrugged at Logan’s obvious confusion. “He doesn’t want to miss more of your day than he has to.”

Logan’s cheeks warmed and he tapped the pocket holding Patton’s phone. “He has planned a little celebration…” He leaned close, conspiratorially. “There is a chocolate cake hidden in the back of the refrigerator I’m not supposed to know about.” He laughed, shaking his head.

“Pat’s a good kid,” Hopkins said. “A really good kid.”

Mind filled with last night’s memory of Patton’s irrepressible smile, laughingly warning him away from the kitchen, the rich scent of cocoa powder and butter wafting through the air, Logan nodded. “The best.”

“The best,” he agreed. Hopkins watched him for a long moment. “He has a good dad, too.”

Shaking his head, Logan looked out at the parking lot. “I can claim no credit for his greatness. It’s all him.” When he looked back, Hopkins was still watching him.

“I see a lotta parents here. He didn’t get there without you.” Hopkins seemed to weigh his next words. “You know, Patton talks about you all the time. Always positive. Not many teenagers have anything nice to say about their parents. And he—“

The front doors flew open. “Hey, Mr. H!” a student called from inside. “Marvick just threw up all over room 301!”

“I need to go,” Hopkins said as he began to turn back to the school.

Logan stepped closer. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I’ve got this,” Hopkins laughed ruefully. “It’s far from the first minor medical catastrophe we’ve had on a testing morning. I’ll call you when Pat’s done,” he called back over his shoulder.

“Good luck!” Logan called back. “And thank you!”

“Anytime, Logan! I’ve got your back!” He pulled his STAFF lanyard to the side and pointed to his tee-shirt. Logan hadn’t noticed the design before but it featured two stick figures, one in pieces on the floor, the other holding a long, straight line.

Half groaning, half chuckling, Logan shook his head and watched Hopkins slip back inside the school and lock the door. There was little wonder why Patton liked him so much.

Back in the car, Logan considered Hopkins’ pledge to call him when Patton was ready to be picked up. The only errand he really had was the half-filled box for Goodwill in the back. Perhaps a quiet morning—and quiet afternoon?—in a café truly was how he’d spend his time.

Goodwill had just opened their donation drop off by the time Logan arrived, but the attendant seemed to already be having a terrible day.

“Good morning,” Logan greeted him, popping open the trunk and hauling out the box.

The attendant barely looked up from their work sorting an over-filled bin. “Clothes in this one, housewares in the other.”

Nodding, Logan sorted out the flotsam they’d uncovered sorting through Patton’s room last month. When he got to the bottom of the box, the faded blue butterfly on the cover of his Chaos book stared back at him. “Do books go with housewares?” he asked, holding up the tome. It was warm from the car’s engine.

“Lemme see.” The attendance took the book, scowling. He turned it around in his hands, frown deepening at the creases in the softcover and the dog-eared pages. “Not much demand for old books. And everyone’s Marie Kondo-ing their shit, dumping whatever they don’t want on us.”

Fanning through the pages, he sucked his teeth. “Too damaged,” he said, shoving the book back into Logan’s hands. “Nobody wants a book with writing already in it. They don’t sell.”

“O—oh,” Logan stammered, hugging the book to his chest. It had never occurred to him they wouldn’t take it. That they wouldn’t want it.

“You can try the antiques seller on 12th,” the attendant shrugged and started to shove the bin full of clothes up the ramp into the back of the store. “Or you can always just recycle it. It’s paper.” He disappeared into the backroom. “Receipt?” he called back to Logan.

“No—no, thank you,” Logan said and the guy sighed loudly, relieved.

“Thanks for you donation,” he said, robotic.

“Of course,” Logan mumbled to the empty air. The bell behind him dinged, another car driving up to the donation drop off. He got in the car, tucked the book into his satchel, then drove off.

[intruloceitweek]

Hey, Campers! Are You Ready?

Calling all Fander Writers! You have from now through April 29th to sign up for Camp Cartoon!

What's Camp Cartoon? Well, gosh, I'm so glad ya asked!

Camp Cartoon is a month-long fanfiction writing event that starts May 1. When Campers (writers) sign-up (no later than April 29th), they submit two prompts they'd like to see filled. When all the forms are in, we sort everybody into their cabins with a handy-dandy Counselor (mod) to help out.

Starting on May 1st, everybody writes!

Campers in each cabin plan together to write gift fics for the other cabins' prompts. Every story earns a cabin points and there are special bonus points for finishing all of another cabin's prompts!

All stories must be complete and posted on AO3 and/or Tumblr by the end of the day on May 31st.

Still have questions? The doctor is in, so ask away!!

[intruloceitweek]

@sanders-sides-events Can you help spread the word?

April 15th is the Last Day for Writer Sign-ups

Today is the final day for writers to sign-up for the TSS Storytime Big Bang!

[intruloceitweek]

Okay, so I’m really late because of life stuff but happy trans visibility day!

Have some very self-indulgent and experimental intruloceit!

Also designs are partially inspired by @uly55es redesigns that they made a long while ago as well as recent head-canons of theirs!

(Please let me know if you want me to remove the @)