dukeceit-week-2024

[dukeceit-week-2024]

💚Dukeceit​ Week! 💛

Day 3: Rats!!! 🐀🐍

(my favorite animal ever!!!!)

transcript

Remus,​ taking role for his pet rats: Arson, Murder, Tax Fraud, Jaundice, Bubonic Plague, Mary Jane, Molly, Eggplant, Peach, and...

[Remus turns to Janus]

Remus: Where's Lil' Shit?

Janus: Got hungry...

@dukeceit-week-2024 @dukeceitweek

[dukeceit-week-2024]

Progression, Chapter 8: You've Created a Monster

Photo by edupunkn00b

Prev - You've Created a Monster - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Last night's incident at the bar had consequences that no-one could escape. Written for @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper's @dukeceit-week-2024, final day: Free Day. "Free" day. WC: 1190

Wet and heavy, the air outside the bar stank of rotting vegetables and piss, old paint and sweat. Fear. He shivered, sweat cooling his skin too, too quickly, even in the stuffy, muggy night. 

He almost asked to go back inside, to return to the soft lights and the loud music. To return to Jannie and Lucas’ watchful gazes. Did they see him leave? Would they be worried? 

He almost asked to go back inside, but before he could even surface the thought, Bryan urged him around the corner and into the alley, voice sweet and brushed with just a hint of heat. His lips were soft and the hand on the small of his back was warm and gentle.

Until it wasn’t.

The Muse cracked open his eyes, squinting against the cold glare of his buzzy overhead light. It hummed and crackled, some ancient thing that didn’t fritz right out under the strangling weight of his room's new shield.

Sighing, he rubbed his cheek against the carpet. It was now stiff, without the same drag and bounce it had had before Papa Bear and Virge renovated. The fresh glue stank, burning his nose and his throat.

Maybe that’s what he’d smelled. Not last night’s bar. Not last night’s—

The floor jolted beneath him, the little thud that meant the elevator had stopped on his floor. The Muse grinned. Someone was coming!

“Jannie!” The Muse cheered, racing to the door as it began to open. “Jannie, Jannie, Jannie, Jannie, Jannie, Jan—”

Papa Bear’s head stuck through and he frowned. “Sorry, Kiddo.” The cheer in his voice was thin and brittle, too high and too chilly to be real. If The Muse pushed at it, it would shatter under his hands like the old plastic cabinets had. Papa Bear raised the tray he carried and curled up his lips into something like a smile. “Just me and some dinner for you while Virge converts your stove to work in the EMF.”

His voice was rough, like he’d been shouting. Or crying. The Muse flipped backwards on a nearby chair and hung his head over the seat, watching him as he walked on the ceiling. He’d never been able to easily read Papa Bear. Not without touching him, at least, and today—tonight?—Papa Bear wore a long-sleeved hoodie, all drawn up and covered like he was cold.

A bead of sweat trailed down his temple.

He couldn’t easily read him—not without pushing, not without being noticed, and he was trying so hard to never do that, no matter how much he needed it sometimes. But he could usually make Papa Bear laugh. When he wasn’t scaring him or grossing him out, anyway. 

“Guess Jannie’s too busy bom-chicka-waow-waow , with the hubby, huh?” He grinned, waiting for a laugh or a grimace. Usually his innuendos about Papa Bear’s little brother got a bit of both.

Not today, though. “Something like that.” Papa Bear’s mouth trembled and he turned to set down the tray, a wave of grief and loss knocking Remus to the floor.

“Oh, fuck, Papa Bear…” He scrambled to his feet and moved close. “Lucas isn’t… hurt, is he?”

“No, um… Lucas is fine, Kiddo. Everything’s okay.” Papa Bear smiled through his lie. “I… I should go… I left Virge without another set of hands in the lab, um… Eat up, Re. You’re getting too skinny.” He smiled again, lips curled up softly, but cheeks pale and eyes red-rimmed. “I’ll make you anything you want, I promise.”

He squeezed his shoulder, grip firm but not very steady. It was only then that The Muse noticed his gloves. “Yeah—yeah, Papa Bear. I’ll eat this time. I…” Another wave of sadness oozed off of him, cold and sticky. Syrup left to dry or those cold compresses he’d stick on his bruises when the ice burned.

The Muse poked at the edges of Papa Bear’s hurt, feeling for the source of the thudding, throbbing ache around them. Papa Bear shrank back and shook his head, wincing, so he stopped. Tried to, at least.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered.

“It’s okay, Re,” he murmured, but didn’t move closer. “I know it’s not your fault.” His arms twitched, almost like wanted to hug him. The Muse stepped closer, unable to hold back the itchy little whine at the back of his throat. A big Papa Bear hug would feel so fucking good right now. 

But instead of moving toward him, arms open, Papa Bear shuffled backwards and palmed open the door with the new controls. “I—I—I gotta go, Kiddo,” he said, not meeting his eyes. He slipped through the door, pulling it closed behind him. “I’m sorry,” he mouthed from the other side of the door. 

“Papa Bear, wait, what hap—” The Muse rushed to the door and slammed his hand on the controls. It wouldn’t respond. He tried again, slower this time, fingers carefully spread over the surface. Nothing. 

“I’m sorry, Kiddo.” Papa Bear’s voice spilled from a little vent next to the door. “That won’t work anymore. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

He pressed to the window. “Papa Bear? I—I’m sorry! Please come back! Papa Bear?”

Papa Bear’s shoulders shook as he rushed toward the elevator and disappeared. “Papa Bear?” he cried one more time, banging on the door. The elevator doors swished shut and the hallway was again bathed in darkness.

Braced against the door, one hand stretched and hopelessly tapping the door controls, he watched the hallway shadows a long, long time. The lights above the elevator dimmed and brightened almost imperceptibly, silently and dutifully marking each floor change as the elevator moved in its shaft. The lights never heralded Papa Bear’s return.

Or anyone's.

By now they would’ve told Ro what happened at the bar. But maybe… maybe Ro would still visit? Not come inside, that was too, well, it wasn’t safe not alone. they both knew that. But Ro still might come and sit outside the door like he used to, close enough to see him through the window. Close enough to imagine they still breathed the same air. Close enough for Ro to show off a new flower or dazzling lights.

He’d bragged he could make fireworks the last time they’d talked. The Muse laughed. Maybe he could show off what he could do, too.

The Muse closed his eyes and straightened, hands outstretched in front of him.

Scarred and shaking, he saw nothing but empty hands and his empty room.

He tried again, picturing the sparks of heat and light, the singe as the fireworks spread and scattered over his hands. But no matter how clear the picture was in his mind, the static pushed back against it, forcing it all back into his head. He tried again. And again. Fireworks, flowers, a fucking rock.  

Nothing worked.

He shook his head, pounding behind his eyes as his Illusions stuttered against his skull, echoing back to him instead of pouring out into the world, into his palms, alive and real. His room wasn’t supposed to do that. He had to tell Jannie.

The Muse pushed at the static surrounding his room, the new, ever-present buzz of the shield pressing against him like a soap bubble. Was it louder now? He slammed his fists against it, scratching, clawing, poking against the deafening darkness. -”Jannie?-“ he screamed against the bubble. -“Jannie, can you hear me? Jannie? Jannie?! JANNIE!!”-

[dukeceit-week-2024]

Progression: Chapter 7, Traitor

Photo by edupunkn00b

Prev - Traitor - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

The Muse (and his twin) turn twenty-one. Written for @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper's @dukeceit-week-2024, Day 7: Dive Bar. WC: 3287

The Muse paced the length of his room, a heavy tome gripped in both hands as he forced his eyes to follow the hand-lettered text. Since the Purge, volumes like these were a treasure and though the edges of his pants were ragged and frayed, his hair shorn short at the back of his neck to stop himself from yanking it out, he cradled the book like the precious rarity it was.

"’A girl likes to be crossed a little in love now and then. It is something to—’” he muttered aloud, shaking his head. He closed the book, slowly, carefully, just like Jannie had showed him and he stroked the woven cover. His feet stopped in front of the shelf and he scanned the other spines before swapping one for the other.

“‘And perhaps you might pretend, afterwards, that it was only a trick,’” he read as he paced, gaze fixed on the book as his body led him over the well-worn path. The carpet had begun to fade in long meandering strips, marking off the longest contiguous trails around the room.

The words wobbled with each step, or maybe it was Orwell’s text.

“‘And that you just said it to make them stop and didn't mean it. But that isn't true.’” His voice fell away as he continued to read for three more laps before making a gagging sound at the back of his throat and changing that book for the next on the shelf.

His mouth twitched as his fingers trailed over the embossed title of the next book. A hundred years, huh? "’El mundo era tan reciente que muchas cosas carecían de nombre, y para nombrarlas había que señalarlas con el dedo…’” The words flowed off his tongue, falling into little drops of honey along his path. Perhaps you only had to point at things to name them, but The Muse could name a thing to make it. “‘"Saca esos malos pensamientos de tu cabeza", le dijo. "Vas a ser feliz".’”

The Muse frowned and closed the book, not as gently as the first. “No, you won’t.”

The next book was no better. “‘She used to give me a thrashing every morning—’” 

Nope, nope, nope, nope, nope…

This one he slammed shut and shoved back onto the shelf, whispering a quiet apology before selecting one last volume. He started at the end, eyes dancing over the page. “‘This funeral wasn't about honoring truth, but about honoring a memory.’” 

He mouthed the words again and tried to imagine what the author might’ve sounded like. Sinking to the floor, he sat with the book cradled in his lap and continued to read. “‘‘It was about honoring the friend they had lost, whether they had lost that friend a day ago, or five years ago.’” A slow smile spread over his face as he flipped the slim book to the beginning to start at the start.

The Muse was on his third re-read when warmth rippled toward him from the hall, soft and wispy, smoke after you blow out a flame. He hugged the book to his chest and leapt to his feet. He’d nearly reached the door controls when Jannie spoke.

-”May we come in, Muse?”- The warm trickle turned into the comforting blast of the furnace, opening the oven on a frosty day. The scent of fire and vanilla, burnt sugar and those tart winter berries Papa Bear like to pick. Jannie was in a good mood, which meant the ‘we’ was him and Lucas.

“Fuck, yes, you can come in!” The Muse shouted and stepped back from the door, ready to fling himself at Jannie’s arms. The door panel lit up and, as Jannie stepped inside, he remembered the book just in time and laid it on the little table by the door before he threw himself at Jannie. “You’re here!”

A bubble of heat enveloped them, pushing away the sticky cold sadness just under the surface of Jannie’s skin. “Of course I’m here, Muse…” His voice was shaky, like he hadn’t spoken aloud in a while. He had to tell Jannie his trick, reading out loud to keep his throat limber and smooth and—

“It’s your birthday,” Jannie continued, one gloved hand carding through his hair. He wished Jannie would take them off. Maybe later. Maybe that was the plan, especially with Lucas here. Lucas always helped them both stay calm when, wait, it was his birthday already?

“It’s not my birthday, Jannie,” he argued, laughing, and pulled back, only a little, only enough to look into Jannie’s eyes. “My birthday’s not for another week, it’s…” 

His smile froze in place as Jannie’s hand slid down and over his cheek, the soft material of his gloves—his good ones, the old cotton ones he used to keep in that box in his dresser he and Ro had found—his gloves, they were soft but they caught on the thick growth on his jaw.

He’d shaved this morning. Hadn’t he?

“It’s… it’s been a week?” Jannie looked down and their little warm bubble shrank, ice fizzling on the edges.

“It has, Re.” Lucas stroked Jannie’s cheek, his bare cheek, the skin soft at the touch and glowing white hot so bright The Muse had to close his eyes. Static brushed his mind. When he opened his eyes, he was sitting on the floor, Jannie and Lucas in front of him.

Lucas’ eyes glowed softly.

“Where’s Ro?” he asked, eyeballs bouncing between the elder Mad Lads, waiting for one of them to speak. Jannie’s shield was strong and The Muse danced around the border, the tingle of static tickling his fingers with each little poke. “Can I see him, maybe just for…”

He couldn’t see past Jannie’s shield but his silence spoke for him.

“He’s not ready,” Lucas answered instead and gripped Jannie’s hand. Slowly the static eased and Jannie smiled up at him. Sad and small but a soft smile. A good smile. A strong one that wouldn’t break if he pushed at it.

The Muse nodded. “Yeah, I… I figured. Is he… is he having a good birthday?” The room grew brighter, daffodils and honeysuckle sprouting in the corners. “I… I was gonna make him something, I…” He blinked and looked around the room, a large box covered in red cloth he’d stitched together sat by the door. “Oh, I did make him something. Will you give it to him?”

Jannie reached for him, patting his arm through gloves and his shirt, too, too much between them to really feel it. “Of course we will, Muse,” he spoke and said, the words flooding his mind and raising it up, wind under wings.

He floated, a feather on the breeze. “But first, Muse, we wanted to do something for your birthday. Even if…”

Even if he couldn’t be with his brother.

“I’d like that. I’d really, really like that!” The Muse leapt to his feet, swaying slightly. If he hadn’t really shaved this morning, had breakfast not been this morning, either? His sink was empty, the stove cold and spotless. Maybe not. “Can…” What if they said no? A little lump of ice grew just above his stomach. “Can you both stay? I’ll make us something yummy and—”

“Actually, Muse,” Jannie caught Lucas’ gaze, eyebrows high in a question The Muse couldn’t help but hear. Not that he tried very hard not to listen in. -”Do you think he’s ready?”-

Lucas nodded and Jannie’s smile grew, just a bit. “We thought we might try something different.”

~

Luc's gentle touch still tingled against his skin, long after he'd turned his attention—and the focus of his power—to The Muse. Janus knew he'd been concerned, remembered the tight twist in his chest as they'd taken the elevator down to The Muse's rooms, remembered the icy spike in his gut when the Muse admitted he had lost an entire week. The warmth of Luc's touch spread through his skin, a whisper of reassurance.

He watched Luc's hands glow where he touched The Muse's temples, the deep amber bleeding out from between his eyelashes. After a long while, Luc lowered his hands and smiled at The Muse. “How do you feel, Re?”

“I feel great,” he smiled back and held out both hands, soft gaillardia blooming in his palms. They grew slowly, waving gently in a breeze none of them felt. He closed his fingers around them, gently and when he opened them, the flowers were gone. “I’m in control,” he grinned. “Look at that!”

Luc’s eyes glowed next to him. “You are,” Janus smiled. “Ready?”

“Ready!”

~

The trio flew the smaller transport north. Not far, just looking to get a little further from the hubbub of the migrated seaports and cities sprouting up around the new Federated Capitol Building. The Muse sat buckled in his seat, face pressed to the window as he watched the sun set over the lakes. Luc laughed from the pilot seat. “ still there, love!” He pointed at a flickering blip on the main navigation screen and grinned. “Still transmitting! I can’t believe they’re still open! Do you remember?”

Lucas shared a flash from their first visit to The Inn. Younger then, they’d danced together long into the night. In the dim light of the bar, surrounded by Powered and Traditionals alike, couples and constellations had drawn together and celebrated all they shared instead of clashing over all the distinctions carved between them in final throes of The Purge. 

Over”hearing” the shared vision, The Muse hummed in his seat. Under the heavy dose Lucas had used, The Muse’s eyes moved a little slower, his smile a little… Janus’ mind supplied the word dull but it was merely less sharp than it usually was. Less jagged. Softer. Like his face moved through water to change with the thoughts racing through his mind.

They landed smoothly, The Inn’s old system recognizing Luc’s old stolen—borrowed—transport beacon. “Where everybody knows your name…” Muse sang quietly, where he’d heard that melody was beyond Janus’ understanding. He barely remembered the old passphrase.

Luc grinned and lowered the ramp. “After you, ma cheri,” he murmured, offering an arm to The Muse in turn. “Ready to dance?”

The bar’s exterior hadn’t changed much. The faded, sagging awning was still there, though a closer look underneath revealed the old metal frame had been replaced by cheaper plexisteel. Bartered for scrap during the worst of it, Janus guessed. Same for the old glass window panes. He’d be nearly anything they’d been bartered in exchange for the licensing board looking the other way when the tumult had ended.

A rumble of heavy bass rattled the chipped sign above the door, beckoning them in with a simple, Welcome, All.

The Muse’s gaze went far away, seeing through the bar’s façade, seeing through his own façade. He grinned, broad and… spacey. “I like it here, Jannie.”

“I thought you might,” he nodded, the tightness in his throat and his chest easy to ignore. He opened the door and ushered them both inside.

“Hey! Haven’t seen you all in a long while,” Andrew called from behind the bar. “‘Fraid you’d… Y'know—” He made a cutting motion across his throat and pulled a face.

“Nah, we’re too bitchy to kill,” Luc laughed, leaning over the bar to hug the wizened owner. “You know that.”

“Glad to see it. You brought some young blood with you, too,” he said, coming around the bar to accept a long hug from Janus. “Well, even younger than you two,” he added with another laugh.

The Muse stiffened, eyes locked on Andrew’s face, reading him. He shuddered, knees twitching in the darkened club. Andrew didn’t catch it, but Luc did.

“This is Re,” he said and wrapped an arm over The Muse’ shoulders, fingers grazing the back of his neck. His fidget disappeared, the spiky energy pouring off him smoothing out at the edges.

“Nice to meet you,” he said, palm outstretched with a tiny green orchid blossom nestled at the center.

Andrew’s eyes widened and he took a half-step back. “Oh, he’s—” Features carefully schooled, Traditionals wouldn’t’ve noticed his fear.

But Janus wasn't a Traditional. “He’s with us,” he said, voice low. 

Andrew nodded slowly, looking between the three of them as he wrestled the flurry of thoughts spilling from his mind. Finally, he smiled, nearly genuine, and returned to the taps behind the bar. “First round on the house, then.”

“Water for me,” Luc smiled.

“How 'bout the D.D. special then,” Andrew laughed, and poured Luc a purple fizzing beverage before passing two glasses of beer to Janus.

The Muse grabbed his arm, spilling a bit of foam from one of the steins. “Can we dance first?” he asked, eyes bright.

“I was hoping you came here to dance,” a low voice behind them rumbled.

A cold itch crawled up Janus’ spine and he moved between the interloper and Muse. He was a Powered, a strong man like Pat, as far as Janus could tell. Very low Esper, which made it easy for Janus to prod, to see what beyond the typical ick of a bar pick up was hidden in the man’s intentions.

Looking just over Janus’ head, he smiled at The Muse. “Unless you’re otherwise occupied tonight?”

“Nah, I’m not with them,” The Muse laughed, taking the other man’s hand. “They’ve got each other to keep them company. Right?” he added with hopeful eyes at both Janus and Luc.

“Enjoy yourself, Re,” Luc said, threading his fingers through Janus’. -”He can handle himself, love,”- he added silently. -”Besides, we’re right here.”-

-”Yeah, Jannie,”- The Muse jumped in with a little dance of his shoulders and absolutely zero decorum. He blew them both a kiss and followed the man out onto the patch of carpet that served as a dance floor. “Happy Birthday to me!” he cheered when the song transitioned to a faster tempo.

Janus pointed to a table as far from the speakers as he could manage without putting any other tables between them and the dance floor. He sat facing the dancing couples and Luc settled into the seat closest to him. “He’s having a good time,” he said, nudging Janus’ knee under the table. “We're in a safe space. You can relax a little while."

"Perhaps," Janus nodded, a golden bubble wrapped around his worries. He sipped at his beer before the bubble popped. Setting aside all pretense or propriety, Janus locked in on the thoughts swirling around the dancing pair. He just needed to know.

The Muse was… nervous, but giddily so. Happy. Happier than Janus had seen him in years. Not since he’d been a child, playing with his brother or pranking teenage Virgil. Janus watched The Muse dance before nodding and taking another sip.

“He’s having fun,” Luc whispered behind his glass, nursing the purple concoction. “And look—” As the music slowed, The Muse took one of the man’s hands and traced colorful shapes against his skin. “He’s in full control.”

“Thanks to you,” Janus said, focusing on the man’s expression. He looked unsurprised. He'd probably clocked Muse as a Powered before he’d even approached them. The implications twisted in his stomach, cold and prickly. Luc’s hand on his forearm was warm, though, and after a moment he sighed, all but a spot of worry leaving him with his breath. “You’re right, he’s having fun.”

“He is,” Luc murmured, leaning closer to kiss his cheek. “Now,” he grinned and slid his now-empty glass into Janus’ hands. “Why don’t you get us a refill while I keep watch. We can take turns.”

Janus laughed and took Luc’s glass. “I see Andrew’s mixology skills haven’t faded with time.” He stood, then leaned over to swipe his own small kiss. “Either that or you’re just as cheap of a date as you ever were.”

“Bah!” Luc scoffed, one lovely hand pressed to his chest. “I resemble that remark!”

Still chuckling, Janus sauntered over to the bar, eyes forward but his thoughts stretched out toward the other patrons, the other dancers. To The Muse and his dance partner. The music had slowed, a steady, undulating beat that traveled up from the floor and through Janus’ shoes. He hummed, following the cover-of-a-cover-of a song that had been an oldie when he was still a child, young enough his Powers had not yet been discovered.

Look at the way… We’ve got an eye on what we’re doing Cause what would they say If they ever knew and so we’re—

“Lucas likes this mix, yes?” Andrew grinned from behind the bar, sliding over a full glass before Janus had even asked. Something itched at the base of his skull, fighting past the calm Luc had given him.

‘Re’s completely keyed in to your moods, love. If he can feel you scared, if he can feel you worried, he’ll feel like you don’t trust him and he won’t trust himself.’ 

Luc’s words had been soft. Certain. He shook his head and the itch grew. Luc’s refill cradled in his hands, he looked over his shoulder. Luc was blinking slowly, a crooked tipsy smile on his face. Janus whipped around and stared at Andrew. “What’s in this?” he demanded.

But Andrew wasn’t looking at him. No, he was staring past Janus’ shoulder at something on the other side of the bar. He followed the bartender’s gaze.

Just in time to see Muse slip outside with his dance partner.

“Luc!” he cried over the music and ran toward the door, sidling past the sudden surge of patrons crowding his path. -”Luc! Luc, let’s go!”- 

-”What’s wrong, love?”- The fuzziness in Luc’s response shattered his calm. He was closer to the door than to Luc, though, and he pushed through just in time to be hit with a wave of fear.

Muse’s fear. 

-”Muse! I’m coming!”- He stepped out into the muggy night air. The landing pad was lifeless, a few airskiffs and smaller transports like theirs dark and idle. He closed his eyes and a light bloomed from the dark alley next to the waste bins. Muse!

Janus ran, following the faint scuffling sound and the overpowering sense of panic. He staggered under the weight of it, heavy ropes tightening around his chest, squeezing his heart. His pulse pounded in his ears, a syncopated thud, his own layered with Muse’s. The bar door slammed open just as he reached the alley. 

“Jan! Jan, wait!” Luc called after him, heavier footfalls catching up fast.

A cry more animal than human pierced his mind and Janus dropped to his knees, both hands over his ears. Strong hands—Luc’s?—helped him up and together they followed the shadows in the alley. Leaning heavily against Luc’s side, Janus fumbled in his jacket for a light. Finally activating it, the beam bounced wildly until it landed on the man from the bar, doubled over and gripping his own head.

Muse towered over him, shirt ripped and eyes closed. He didn’t speak and when Janus reached for him, pain ripped through his mind until he pulled back, wrapping his mind in his own strongest shield.

“Please, Muse, no!” he shouted, fighting to be heard over the cacophony in his own mind. The man’s cries intensified and he began to bang his forehead against the dirty pavement. “Stop it! Stop, Muse, you’ll—”

And in the next breath it was over. Suddenly silent, the man slumped over. Deadweight. His head struck the pavement with a loud, wet thwack and Janus’ light trembled, illuminating dark blood seeping from his eyes in its shaky beam. Muse knelt before the man's body, shoulders shaking and a horrible high-pitched sound spilling from his lips.

Muse laughed.

[dukeceit-week-2024]

More art because I forgot I had tumblr Ngl lmao

[dukeceit-week-2024]

Progression, Chapter 6: Eyes Closed

Photo by edupunkn00b

Prev - Eyes Closed - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

The Muse finds someone who needs his help. Written for @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper's @dukeceit-week-2024, Day 6: Body Swap WC: 1303 - CW: a child in peril, minor character deaths (unnamed characters, not the child) A little mind-bendy (that's a bit of a given with Remus' Illusion powers, though.)

The Muse ran.

Broken bits of brick from the latest building lost to ivy battered bare feet and the tangled underbrush threatened to drag him to the ground. He stumbled, feet wetted with crushed moss and blood slipping on the forest floor.

“I see you!” A deep voice sing-songed and echoed against the trees, laughter coming from everywhere at once. "You can't hide from us!"

His lungs burned and he’d lost count of the scratches and bruises on his shins, his arms, his face. They’d first spotted him at dusk down by the creek and he’d been on the run ever since. Every time he thought he’d escaped, every time he thought he’d hidden well enough and long enough, they’d see him trying to sneak away and once again, they’d pick up their hunt through the dark woods.

He dodged to the left, crashing blindly into the thicket and hoping it might slow his much larger pursuers. Thorns grabbed at his skirt, tearing at his skin but he kept running.

His skirt?

The Muse forced his eyes open and stared up at the bright ceiling lights in his room. No, not his skirt… there was someone else. Someone close. Someone hurt. 

But they were getting further away and it was getting harder to fight through the buzzing shield around his room. The Muse rolled onto his stomach. His hands and knees were scraped raw, muscles screaming under the strain of movement. When he closed his eyes, he saw the forest, tasted the moss and dirt. And blood.

Inch by inch, he dragged himself to his door. Using first the handle, then the frame, he pulled himself to his feet and palmed the control. His own weight pushed the door open and he fell past the shield and out into the hallway.

Color and light and ice and fire consumed him and filled him to bursting. The world crackled through his nerves, through every cell. A tiny child laughing, clapping her hands when her doll sang. A couple yelling horrible things to each other, unbreakable dishes crashing against the wall and bouncing off back at them. The rush of air as a man fell. Fingers torn and bleeding and…

The Muse shook his head, searching for the girl in the woods. Her sweater had been itchy, sticky with sweat but it protected her arms so she kept it on. Feet numb, knees bleeding, she shivered now, tucked between gnarled tree roots, a crook filled with mold and petrified rat droppings. She pressed both hands to her mouth, muffling her pants as large men—Powereds, too, too large to be Traditionals—tromped over her hiding place.

-”Jannie…”- he pushed past the sharp static of Jannie’s usual shield. He wasn’t supposed to, he knew he wasn't supposed to, that it hurt them both when he did, but this was important. Cold ice slashed at his mind as the static broke. -”Jannie! Jannie, help us…”- His eyes fell shut again as the vision took him.

~

“Love?” Luc’s voice was so very far away. “Love… wake up!” Orange light bled through Janus’s eyelids and he burrowed deeper under the covers, hiding from the soft hand shaking his shoulder, the insistent voices in his head. “Jan!”

-”Jannie…”- The desperation in The Muse’s voice finally pulled him from his dream—nightmare? No, not a dream. -”Jannie, help us!”-

“The Muse is out,” Janus mumbled, shivering under the warmth of their comforter.

“I know, love,” Luc nodded, hands warm at his shoulder, his cheek. Janus finally opened his eyes and noticed the bright glow of Luc’s. “You were…” 

Janus became aware of the tears streaming down his face, his neck. The pillow was soaked. His throat was raw and his palms bleeding from tiny half-moon impressions. 

Luc’s eyes dimmed and he brushed gentle fingers over Janus’ cheekbone. “You were…inconsolable without…” His voice shook and he let his hand fall away. Janus’ heart thudded in his chest at the lost contact, a bird fighting its way out of its cage.

“It’s okay…” He swallowed back a sob, the temporary easement of Luc’s powers letting through the full force of everything The Muse shared. He nodded, chasing his hand. “It—than—thank you. He—”

Luc touched him again and Janus smiled, accepting his power. He sucked in a breath and met Luc’s bright orange eyes. “He needs me,” he whispered, already pushing away the covers.

“I know.”

~

-“Muse… Muse, can you hear me?”- Golden light flickered through the leaves and The Muse reached out from his hiding place, fingers scraping against lichen-covered bark.

“Jannie?” he called, high pitched and broken. And not nearly quiet enough.

“I found her!” Rough hands grabbed at him, pulling his hair and yanking him out from beneath the fallen tree. “Got you, you little—“

The man’s hands grazed bare skin and The Muse saw through his eyes now. A girl shivered before him, dress torn, hair matted with blood and dirt, rivers of tears marking her face. He released her and she dropped to the forest floor, curled in a ball.

Rage and pride coursed through his veins. Filthy lust. But Jannie was there, too, and strong, steady hands circled the faint strains of the man's guilt. Strangling it. Strengthening it.

The Muse pushed back against the foul thoughts in the man’s head and shared with him the girl’s fear, the sting and burn of her cuts, the fire in an ankle that surely must be broken.

The man staggered under the weight of it. “No, please,” he muttered. “Stop!” To The Muse or to Jannie. Or maybe to himself.

They didn’t stop. The Muse pressed both hands to the man’s head and pushed in everything he'd seen. The fighting couple. The child who’d touched a stove. The man who’d fallen—jumped?—from the factory ladder. Another man, hungry and cold, sifting through the bins outside the same factory.

Everything.

He pushed it all into the pursuer’s head. With a strangled cry, he dropped to the forest floor. His friends ran to his body and The Muse touched each of them in turn, adding the memories of the one who fell before him until the bodies of a half dozen Powered rogues lay in a heap around the little girl.

-”Go home,”- he said to her as gently as he could.

Crying, she stumbled away from the men's bodies. The Muse stayed with her until she reached the edge of town and the world around him faded to black.

~

The floor was cool against The Muse’s back and a soft blanket had been draped over his chest. Fresh stitches itched his hands and his legs. He opened his eyes just in time to see Papa Bear slip through the door, leaving him alone with Jannie.

Jannie’s hand—his bare hand! He’d taken off his gloves and just touched him—his hand was so warm and curved perfectly over his cheek. The Muse melted into the touch, the warmth. Jannie brushed away the tears leaking from his eyes. “I got ‘em, Jannie,” he whispered. “I got ‘em all.” It was important he say it. The words made it real, made the vision real. It was all real. He'd made it real and he’d done something good this time.

“I know,” Jannie said aloud, voice breaking. “Ro and Virge found the girl and brought her to her parents.”

The Muse smiled, wincing at the tug of stitches he hadn’t noticed along his jaw. -“We did it”-

“We did,” Jannie said, so quiet The Muse had to strain to hear. “Rest now, Muse. Rest…” His eyes were half-closed when Jannie slowly pushed up to his feet and shuffled to the door.

As the door sighed closed, the last thing The Muse saw was Jannie falling into Lucas’ arms, the hallway lit in the bright orange glow of his eyes.

[dukeceit-week-2024]

HELLO EVERYONE!

As of yesterday Dukeceit week 2024 has finished off! I never in a million years would have thought that as many people would have gotten excited about this and participated as they did! I feel so incredibly lucky to have hosted something that has produced so much amazing fic and art! It's been a joy to see new stuff in the tags of a pairing I love so much and all that was because of y'all! <3 <3 Late stuff is allowed! I don't mind anyone coming in and filling in days they missed or anything like that! I may not reblog it, but I will try! Thank y'all for everything! -Grim.

[dukeceit-week-2024]

okay i lied here’s my actual contribution to dukeceit week day 8 </3

[dukeceit-week-2024]

my contribution for dukeceit week day 8: free day

i’m never drawing them again god bless

[dukeceit-week-2024]

Progression, Chapter 5: Killer Inside of Me

Photo by edupunkn00b

Prev - Killer Inside of Me - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

If only Roman and Remus could solve their problems the way they used to. Written for @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper's @dukeceit-week-2024, Day 5: Cowboys

Warm air spilled from an ancient vent over his door and The Muse pressed a cheek to the grate, breathing it in. Jannie’s cologne, a pot of rice and onions on the verge of burning… bearing grease and singed wire insulation… soap bubbles and steam. 

The house was quiet. It was late, the rice probably set for Papa Bear's favorite congee. A door swished somewhere upstairs, faint. Maybe only imagined. Maybe not. 

Palm pressed flat against the wall, he fought past the buzz of his shield, reaching for tiny hints of the world beyond his four walls. The shield scorched the edges of his mind and sent the room spinning. He clawed at the wall, seeking purchase in the layers of antique paint and wallpaper. Bile churned in his stomach but he breathed in the scents of home again and smiled. 

Flowers. 

The flowers weren’t really there in the house. It was winter and the only growth outside was kudzu and stubborn blackberry, but he smelled flowers. Ro's flowers. The Muse inhaled again. Red trillium and hibiscus and posies. Roses. 

He was on his way.

His makeshift ladder clattered to the floor as he scrambled down, forehead pressed to the window so he could watch the glow of the elevator’s lights. They dimmed then brightened with each floor change, the peak joined with a near silent thud when the elevator reached the bottom floor.

“Ro!” he shouted through the door, watching light bleed over the basement floor from the now open elevator. “Ro! Ro, you made it!”

Shock widened his brother’s eyes when he stepped into view and The Muse dragged a hand over his face. It came away damp, a rusty smear of sweat and blood staining his fingertips. “It’s okay!” he grinned, hand pressed to the window. “See? It’s healing!”

Ro swallowed, throat bobbing, but he pushed a smile on his face and nodded. “It is,” he said, too quiet to hear but carefully articulated so The Muse could read his lips.

They’d gotten good at that.

Reaching into the bag strapped to his hip, Ro pulled out a pair of work gloves.

“Virge’ll kill ya if you mess up his favorite gloves.”

Ro just smiled and pressed a bare palm to the controls.

The door slid open.

The Muse leapt to his feet, hands out at his sides. “Ro,” he whispered, careful, quiet. Contained. Too loud and Ro might leave. Too loud and Ro might disappear.

“I promised Virge I wouldn’t damage them when I borrowed them,” he said, pulling on the gloves and tucking them up into his sleeves before stepping inside. “May I hug y—”

The Muse barrelled into him before he could finish the question. To his credit, Ro kept his feet, shoulders nearly as broad as Papa Bear’s and arms thicker than The Muse’s thighs hugging him back.

“Missed you, Ro,” The Muse mumbled, tears sneaking past closed eyes. Poppies sprouted around their feet, spreading and looping over the floor, over the boots abandoned by his nest of blankets in the corner. Soft red petals poked between the salvaged paper books on the shelves and green tendrils reached for the gap under the door and the grating in the wall.

Heavy and perfumed, the air tasted syrupy sweet and The Muse’s eyes grew heavy.

“Re, careful,” Ro choked, holding his breath, one gloved hand cupped over his mouth and nose.

Blinking away tears, his eyes burned and he used his sleeve to dry Ro’s face. “It’s okay, it’s…” Mouth gone dry, he shook his head. -”It’s okay, Ro Bro,”- Thoughts came easy and Ro smiled. -”It’s okay.”-

~

It was too much. It was too much and Roman knew it, but he couldn’t make himself let go. He couldn’t really remember the last time Jan had let them visit but it certainly hadn’t been alone, with Jan and Lucas on guard, watching, waiting.

It had been a good thing then, too.

But this time could be different. They had a plan this time, and they were both older, stronger. They could do this.

The cloying scent of poppies filled Roman’s lungs and he shook his head. -“Re, let up,”- he mumbled along with the thought, but couldn’t voice the words. He tried again, pushing clarity into his thoughts. -”Re, I won’t be able…”- He hummed, waves of poppies softening the floor beneath their feet. He sat down and smiled up at his brother. -”All we need is a good horse and we ride out of town together.”-

Re laughed and sat in front of him. Legs criss-crossed, their knees bonked against each other’s. -”I’ll get the horse. You’ll need to get us past the Sheriff and his men.”-

-”Child’s play!”- Roman scoffed, grinning even as flowers filled his mouth and dragged them both to the floor.

Child’s play.

~

Alarms blared, red lights flashing along the crown moulding and illuminating the darkened bedroom. Janus and Luc leapt out of bed and ran to the common room. Patton and Virge were already there.

“Ro’s room is empty,” Patton said, a panicked warble in his voice. He reached back gratefully when Luc took his hand.

“He’s not outside,” Virge said from behind his new tablet. The bluish glow deepened the shadows under his eyes and he shook his head. “He’s… Dammit. He’s downstairs.”

They moved to the elevator as one.

“I should’ve asked why he wanted work gloves,” Virgil muttered, swiping and tapping at the screen in search of a better view into The Muse’s room. “I shouldn’t’ve—”

“Kiddo, it’s not your fault,” Patton squeezed his shoulder and smiled. “You didn’t know.”

“I should’ve asked.” 

“Would he have been honest about what he'd wanted them for if you had?” Janus frowned. If anyone should’ve known…

They piled out and into the hall, freezing when they saw The Muse’s door swung wide open.

“Stay here,” he ordered the other three. “I promise I’ll call for you if I need help.” Patton opened his mouth like he wanted to argue but nodded, wrapping one beefy arm over Virgil's shoulders. Luc stood a bit behind them, arms crossed over his chest, but he remained silent, eyes a dim amber.

-”Be careful, love.”- Worry seeped through Luc’s ironclad control. -”Be gentle.”-

-”Always.”-

In the room, Ro lay sprawled on his back, head pillowed in his brother’s lap. Blood trickled from his nose and his mouth and his eyes danced, wide and unseeing. The Muse curled over him, stroking back his hair and whispering frantically near his ear. He didn’t look up as Janus approached.

“Muse? Ro?” Janus tried aloud from the doorway, his quiet words carrying easily into the near-silence of The Muse’s room.

Neither brother acknowledged his presence. He closed his own eyes and stepped through the EMF shield.

Dust and grit whirled around him and he pushed past a mass of thigh-deep tumbleweed. “Muse? Ro? Where are you?” He squinted against the scrape of sharp sand and spotted shifting shadows in the distance. The sandstorm’s roar swallowed his voice and he tried again. -”Muse? Muse where are you?”-

-”I’m in my room, Jannie…”- His words came from behind Janus and he spun on the spot, grasping at empty air. The sand scoured his bare skin. He’d run down in sleep pants and nothing else. -”Where else would I be?”-

-”Muse, let me help you,”- Janus called back. -”Let us help you.”-

-”Help?!”- The word rattled through his mind, echoing and layering. -”Help? You want to help?”-

-”Of course I want to help!”- Lightning flashed and fat, heavy raindrops pattered the ground. The sand grew soft and muddy and he sunk down to his ankles. -”Muse! Muse, stop this!”-

The storm fell away and Janus was alone in an empty room. Floorboards gleamed without a speck of dust or dirt to be found. Soft light spilled from windows set high along the walls. -”Muse?”- he called, quieter.

-”You want to help?”- a tiny voice asked and Janus looked down into the bright green eyes of the child he’d first met fifteen years ago.

Janus crouched until he was low enough to see the child at eye level. He nodded. -“Very much so, Re.”-

Nodding solemnly, the little boy turned and picked up something from the floor behind him. -”Take care of him, then,”- he sent in a whispered thought as he placed Ro in his arms. -”Help him.”-

~

“Patton, take him.” Ro’s whimper filled his ears the moment they stepped over the threshold and back into the protected hallway. The Muse closed the door behind them. "Please, Pat…"

Janus stumbled, shocked by the full weight of the much more muscled Mad Lad in his arm when he left the bubble of The Muse’s Illusion.

Patton rushed forward, scooping Ro up in his arms and steadying Janus. “I got him,” he nodded and examined Janus’ eyes. “Are you—”

“I’m fine,” Janus lied. He felt Luc’s eyes on him but he pressed a smile onto his face. “Take Ro up to the medbay,” he said, looking up to include Virgil in his order. "I'll be up in a moment."

Quietly, they complied, filing into the elevator and leaving Luc and Janus alone in the hall.

Luc was suddenly at his side. “He needs more control,” Janus let the wall—and his husband—support his weight and his eyes fell shut. “He needs more practice. This shouldn’t—”

“He needs a purpose, Jan. An outlet. When was the last time you’ve let him leave HQ? When was the last time you’ve even let him leave that fucking room?”

“What, so he can put more Eastern guardsmen in the hospital?”

“Would that really be so terrible?" Luc's voice was soft. Reasonable. "Would you rather he hurts Ro again? Or that we help him put his power to good use? That we put all our powers to good use?”

“The Muse is not a weapon." Ro's blood covered his hands and he scrubbed them on his pants. "He would be mortified at what he’s done. The ones who survived are still hidden away in padded cells!”

Luc stroked his hand. “Just like he is, love?”

Rage and fear boiled under his skin and Luc stepped back. Janus stood up straight and met his eyes, embers glowing under ash. “It’s not the same and you know it!"

-Are you quite certain of that?-

Luc raised an eyebrow, unspoken words heavy in the air between them as he turned and walked away.

[dukeceit-week-2024]

Day 6: sharing clothes

@imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper @dukeceit-week-2024

[dukeceit-week-2024]

On the Road, Just the Two of Us

Chapter Eight: At Our Destination, Not Just the Two of Us

Masterpost | First | Previous | Ao3

Summary: This was written for @dukeceit-week-2024, @dukeceitweek

Janus and Remus are living in a campervan at the moment. Are they going somewhere? Who knows. The only thing that’s important is that they’re together.

Content Warnings: Flirting, Kissing, Bickering between the twins

🌻🌻🌻🌻

“I don’t want this to end,” Remus admitted quietly.

“I know, darling.” Janus didn’t look over at his boyfriend, too focused on the GPS that told him they were only five minutes away from their destination.

“Can’t we just drive past and keep going?”

“No, dear. It was fun and I loathe to admit I wouldn’t mind if this trip was longer, but we need to go back at some point. I can only take off time from work for so long and we do still need the money. Even if we were to live like this full time. I don’t think I’d enjoy it on a permanent basis, actually.”

Remus sighed, leaning heavily into his seat.

“Yeah, I know. Me too, actually. I can’t sculpt like this. Or paint on the scale I’d like. I know it’s for the best, but still… I don’t wanna deal with the responsibilities again.”

“I cannot relate to that at all.” Janus moved his hand to Remus’ thigh and squeezed. “It’s going to be fine. You focus on your art and let me deal with all the annoying paperwork and bills.”

“You’re gonna be busy again,” Remus accused, though it was in a lighter tone. He was indeed upset at that fact, but he also knew that it was necessary.

“Yes. That’s probably not going to change for a long while.”

“I know. It sucks ass.”

“It does.”

The GPS announced the last turn they would have to make before they’d reach their destination at the end of the road.

“We’ll find the time to do something like this again, promise,” Janus said. “Not every year, not even every other year but we’ll do it again.”

“I’ll cut you if we don’t.”

“Sounds fair.”

They drove the last stretch of their journey in silence, just enjoying each other’s company and reflecting on the past three month on their own.

It had been the most freeing time in Janus’ life.

He was going to miss it.

He pulled the van into a free parking spot outside a lovely, old hotel. The location of the wedding.

“Are you ready?” he asked Remus. His boyfriend huffed.

“One last thing.” Remus pulled Janus over to him, practically lifting him from the driver’s seat and onto his lap, before sealing their lips together. It was unusually sweet for him, no tongue involved.

They parted a few minutes later.

“Now I’m ready,” Remus grinned and Janus chuckled.

“Then let’s go.” He leaned over to grab the keys from the ignition before climbing out of Remus’ lap and out of the passenger door. Remus followed after him, but not without commenting on how good his butt looked.

“There you are! Finally!” The car door wasn’t even closed behind them before Roman was stalking over to them, looking close to furious. “Do you have any idea what time it is? You were supposed to be here yesterday!”

“What a nice welcome,” Janus commented dryly, causing Remus to burst out in giggles and Roman to glare at him.

“Sorry, Ro-bro, but we got turned around.”

“Oh, really?” Roman asked, obviously not convinced, his arms crossed.

“No, he saw a flyer for a carnival and begged me to go.”

“It was super fun, I almost puked on one of their rides! So worth it.”

“I cannot believe you two! A carnival, really?! The rehearsal dinner for your wedding is in two hours! Two hours! And you both look like you haven’t showered in a week!”

“Don’t be dramatic, it was only five days.” Roman groaned and Remus smiled at him, delighted by his annoyance.

“I do not know why you didn’t get a better van! One with a shower! Janus is a lawyer for goodness’ sake, you could’ve easily afforded it!”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t the aesthetic we were going for!”

“I am so going to strangle you!”

“Oh, look, the grooms finally made it,” a new voice commented, and Janus turned to see that Virgil, his best man, had joined them. “Roman was going up the walls since yesterday, it was hilarious to watch.”

“I can’t imagine that at all.” Janus smirked. “You seem quite calm though. Usually you would be right there with him, worrying your pretty little head off about everything.” Virgil elbowed him in the arm for that and rolled his eyes.

“Why would I stress myself out about your wedding? You already paid for all of this, so it’s not like it would’ve been a loss for me if you didn’t end up showing. Plus, I know the two of you, of course nothing here would go to plan, especially since Roman did most of the planning. I was sure you’re going to turn up late, if just to spite him. Hell, I wouldn’t put it past you to have arrived here like two days ago and you’ve just stayed in the van ten minutes from here until you could be fashionably late. I’m more surprised you showed up for the rehearsal at all. Second plus, Logan’s been weirdly insistent that you’d be here around this time. I think Remus has been texting him updates.”

“Why should we put so much effort into a wedding Roman wanted more than us? We would have been fine with getting an officiant into our backyard during a barbeque. He insisted on something more ‘meaningful.’” Janus rolled his eyes and Virgil snickered.

“He and his high standards. Anyway, let’s get you inside and under a shower. You reek.”

“Why, thank you Virgil, for telling me that so politely.”

“Fuck off and just come along.”

They started off towards the hotel, closely followed by the twins that were still arguing.

“And what the hell was that text about sunflowers in the bouquet?” Roman huffed, still rather worked up. “You can’t expect me to change that on such short notice! And they would have clashed with the other colors, plus they stand for platonic affection, not romantic!”

“The fuck you mean ‘short notice?’ I asked you about that two and a half months ago!”

“Yes, way too late! I added some sunflowers to the decorations but not the bouquet.”

“Wow, thank you for your sacrifice.”

They continued to bicker like that the entire way. When they reached the entrance to the hotel, Virgil pulled the door open and held it for them all to pass. Janus let the twins go first, since Roman seemed about to explode if he didn’t get Remus ready immediately. Janus watched them disappear further into the building when Virgil lightly shoved his shoulder with his own.

“So, you ready to get married?” he asked.

Janus watched Remus laugh loudly and pulling his brother into a hug and he smiled.

“I was ready to marry him years ago.”

🌻🌻🌻🌻

This is the end of the story! Thank you all so much for reading, reblogging, tagging and commenting 💛💚

[dukeceit-week-2024]

dukeceit week day 8: antiquing/free day

do you know the feeling when you suddenly have an urge to draw something? this was me with this picture, apparently these two really wanted to kiss and who am i to deny that sdghjkjh

this was fun! this was the first shipping week i actually participated in and even if it "only" were two pictures i'm glad i could contribute something 💛💚

[dukeceit-week-2024]

day 8: antiquing/free day

that's a wrap on dukeceit week!!

ive had so much fun (and been so stressed) particapting. seeing all the amazing art and interacting with the talented artists who made it has been such a treat. thank you to all who shared and liked and commented on my art. you guys really brightened me days! now im gonna go crawl in a hole and dissappear for a couple of days.

[dukeceit-week-2024]

Creature Cuddles!!!

This is for Dukeceit Week @dukeceit-week-2024 , @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper, and @dukeceitweek

Janus is a creature serpent of the dark woods and Remus is a magic caretaker of the dark woods.

They like to cuddle at the end of the day.

[dukeceit-week-2024]

Dukeceit week free day! Choco eggies💚💛

[dukeceit-week-2024]

girls night! 🥂

dukeceit week day 7: dive bar

(imagine ‘the first step’ by will wood is playing)

[dukeceit-week-2024]

Progression, Chapter 4: Bad

Photo by edupunkn00b

Prev - Bad - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

The Mad Lads have set up extra shielding around The Muse's room, creating a sanctuary for him when his powers are just too much for him to control. CW: Self-harm (trichotillomania), blood (real and imagined), Written for @imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper's @dukeceit-week-2024, Day 4: Hair/Teeth

The first few strands were the slowest.

He’d started at the back of his neck, not really meaning to pull but… not really stopping himself when he felt the sting, either. He twisted his fingers through his hair, soft and slippery at first, fingers sliding right through the curls he made.

He hummed as he stimmed, some ancient song about old dead kings he’d heard in Jannie’s mind a few years ago.

The floor had grown hard against his back, pressing into his shoulder blades, his sacrum. The dinner Papa Bear had brought down no longer steamed, the inviting aroma of turmeric and chickpeas long faded and his room now smelt more of damp condensation than food. 

His walls buzzed against him, muting the sounds and colors and textures of the world outside his room like a drafty window kept in warmth. He shivered in the cold and caught the bits of heat that leaked through the cracks.

He breathed and tangled his hair around his fingers, sharp teeth cutting into his flesh. The sting turned to a burn and he shook and yanked his hand away.

Four strands of hair came away with it.

The Muse stared at them for a long time, watching the hairs sway with each breath. Watching his reddened fingertips pound and throb with his pulse. Then he reached back and wound a lock around his fingers and tugged. Hard.

More hair came away.

He pulled again and again. And again. His hands grew warm and wet and the slip slippy slippery feel between his fingers made it harder to get a grip but he persisted. After a while the wetness on his skin dried into a clumpy, grippy stickiness.

He pulled and pulled and pulled again, sitting up to reach every spot on his skull, his face, his neck. Once that skin was bare, he peeled off his shirt and plucked away the hair on his forearms, his knuckles, his chest. Under his arms. His belly. He pushed up his pant legs but he could only reach so far that way so he stood, sticky, shaking fingers fumbling the clasp at waist.

-”Muse!”- Jannie’s voice filled his mind and he spun around the empty room. -”Muse, what are you doing?!”-

~

“Hey, um, Jay?” Virge trembled where he stood with Ro just outside the doorway, one arm wrapped around the taller Mad Lad’s waist. Ro’s eyes were closed and he leaned heavily against Virge’s shoulder, a tremor at his jaw. “The field’s not working. It’s Re—”

Janus dropped his own thin shield and the full force of their worry slammed into him.

As did Muse’s mind.

Janus' scalp and upper lip went numb, prickly fire spread over the rest of his body, sharp, stabbing lines up and down his arms and his chest. Under his gloves, his fingertips were rough and swollen, fingers stuck together. They smelled like copper.

Janus ripped off his gloves and stared at his own hands. They were clean, unmarred. Save for his scars, of course.

-”Muse! Muse, what are you doing?!”- He didn’t wait for a response and ran for the waiting elevator. “Get some distance from HQ," he ordered over this shoulder. "Take the transport and find Patton and Luc.” He stumbled past the elevator doors, tripping on something that wasn't really there. “Stay there until I call for you!” he added before the doors closed and the burning grew.

-"What have you done, Muse?"-

The Muse’s thoughts were a jumble of nonsense, words layered on words, a kaleidoscope of colors behind closed lids. His heartbeat, their heartbeats a steady line through it all. 

-”Nothing, Jannie. Nothing. I swear.”--”Everything.”--”What a shame. Yeah, my face. It cost me the crown-”-”Isn’t it wonderful?”-

-”Muse, I’m on my way. Wait for me, Muse. Wait for me.” The elevator doors swished open and Janus bolted out into the dark hall and straight to The Muse’s new room.

A cackle filled his mind. -”Where am I gonna go? I’m stuck. Stuck to the floor, stuck to the cold floor like ice like when you touch ice right from the cold and you stick to it and you pry it away but if you pry too hard you’ll pry away your skin, too but maybe that can help cause the way to get unstuck is to put a little warm water or or warm air or warm blood and if you pry away enough of your skin it's all warm and wet underneath…”-

Janus flung open the door, and sucked in a sharp breath when he stepped within the bounds of The Muse’s shield and nothing separated their thoughts. -”Muse…”- He didn’t know if he spoke aloud. He tried again. “Muse… Muse look at me.” 

Bright green eyes bored into his, a thousand blades sinking into his skin and peeling back every defense. He focused on breathing and closed off his own thoughts as best he could against the onslaught.

“Jannie,” The Muse whispered aloud. He reached for his hand, dried and fresh blood smearing on his gloves. “Jannie, you’re here?”

“I’m here, Muse,” Janus nodded and pulled him to his feet. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

The Muse melted into his arms, head tucked against his shoulder. “You’re here.”

“Yes, Muse,” he whispered again. “I’m here.”