edupunkn00b - Tumblr blog

[edupunkn00b]

me returning to the sanders sides fandom, dumping the few drawings i did manage to get out of it so far on every app i can, then vanishing into the night

ignore the album cover redraw i literally did it in like 15 minutes just to feel something

[edupunkn00b]

[edupunkn00b]

In Any Form You Take - dukeceit

Scar positivity, mostly made for the purpose of comforting myself, but I wanted to share it as well. I hardly see media involving people with scars as gnarly as mine, so hopefully this can bring others comfort as well. The title is a reference to this song.

Read on Ao3 here

[Content warning for implied past self harm and current body image issues.]

Remus sits splayed out on its bed, trying to act like it isn't waiting for something. Janus has, for the first time in the months they've been dating, agreed to stay the night in its room. He disappeared into the bathroom to change almost 30 minutes ago, and Remus would be lying if it said it wasn't worried. It turns over to look at the ceiling, making bored popping noises with its lips.

It doesn't blame Janus for any nervousness there may be, Janus hasn't been naked around... well, any of the sides for as long as it can remember. Remus can't place when it happened, but as Thomas grew up and Janus became more engrossed in his role, he started to cover up everything. Literally and metaphorically. Long sleeves and even gloves, at one point when they were a teen he even had a half mask on his face before everyone discovered his snake-like features.

Remus knows Janus must be getting into pyjamas, and the sound of shuffling indicates it doesn't have to speculate for very much longer. Janus cracks open the door slightly, just enough to see his face, his long hair down and swaying by his chin. "Remus?"

"Yeah, Janus? Everything okay in there?"

"Yes. I'm okay. I- I just need you to not act weird, okay? Can you promise?"

Remus sits up cross-legged, face scrunched up in confusion. It chuckles slightly, rolling its eyes. "All I ever do is act weird, but I can tone it down for ya."

"Remus, I'm serious."

It takes pause, blinking and tilting its head to the side softly. Janus's tone of voice is heavily somber and almost nervous, and it's not one that Remus hears often. "Uh, okay. I promise, no weirdness."

Janus takes in a deep breath, and the door opens. His hand falls from the knob and holds his own wrist anxiously, eyes refusing to make contact with a nervous attempt at a coy smile filling his features. "I- I know it's a lot, feel free to stare and ogle as long as you'd like." Janus's biting sarcasm feels completely toothless, and he can't quite make himself look at Remus's face. So, when its suddenly right in front of him, he startles and gasps quietly. But as he's pulling away, Remus is reaching towards him.

"Stare and act weird at you about this? What? Why would I be that mean?" Remus lets its hand hover between them as it waits for a sign that it's okay to touch. It tries not to look outwardly fascinated by the scars that cover its boyfriend's arms almost entirely, all thick and bumpy in varying shades of purple and white. Old, but definitely some nasty keloids.

"Remus you've done meaner things in your sleep, don't play with me." Janus laughs and it comes out strained. Cringing at himself, he barely feels present all of a sudden. Like he's floating. Dizzy, lightheaded. "I know you've seen scars before, though you only seem to have them for a short time when you do get them, but they... stayed on me." Janus rubs his own arm, horrifically textured no matter what he does, breathing out shakily. Remus is observing him silently, and Remus is never silent. It makes him terrified. "Sorry, I know they're gross, this was probably overstepping. It was wrong to assume you'd be okay with it, I can go back to my own-"

Remus's hands close the gap, and rests right there, directly touching his scars. "Nah, you assumed right, I don't mind one bit!" It smiles, sharp teeth gleaming at him. "The shit you've seen me touch and you thought I'd find you gross? Jan, that's so unintelligent that I barely recognize you." Janus is frozen in place, his eyes watching Remus's face as it touches his arm, running its hands over even the ones Janus won't let himself touch. A gentle smile fills its face, and it leans in to plant a kiss on Janus's cheek. "Certainly adds a bit of dramatic flair to one's body, huh?"

Janus feels tears in his eyes, glancing to the side as Remus kisses his scales. He can't seem to make words come out of his mouth, because if they did it would just be bashful apologies and humiliated proclamations of how ugly he is.

"Did someone tell you you were gross?" Remus asks, bizarrely quiet and soft compared to its usual self.

"God no, I'd rather die than show any of the others this. No, I did all the name calling myself, thank you very much."

Remus's arms wrap around him in a hug, gripping him tightly. "Well then tell that asshole to shut up for once, why don't you?" It buries its face into Janus's shoulder. "I will hunt down and eat anyone who ever says those things to you, and that includes you yourself!"

"Remus..." Janus can't help a light, comforted chuckle at the expression of violence. "You won't be eating anyone, down boy," he jokes, laughing even as he's sniffling.

Remus pulls back, gazing at him fondly. "You're really pretty, Janus. Scars included." Its eyes darken playfully. "And when I see a pretty boy I want him in my bed!" Remus suddenly swoops Janus up over its shoulder like a sack, making the smaller side yelp and cling to it upside down. Without time to adjust he's chucked haphazardly into a pile of pillows, wheezing out a laugh and covering his face.

"My god, you're so dumb. Fine then, bed me Mr. Duke," Janus dramatically throws a hand against his forehead and lays back as though on a fainting couch.

Remus cackles and throws itself on the pillows right beside him. "No offense, babe, but I'm exhausted and I'd rather just cuddle and feel up your sick ass battle wounds, if you'd let me. I can even scream dramatically and act like I stepped in horse shit if that'll validate your self flagellation!"

"Oh, how caring and noble an offer," Janus quips, rolling his eyes and cuddling against Remus's chest. They both laugh, and then go quiet, staring across at each other.

"Love you," Remus offers up.

"Love you too," Janus accepts, the room darkening as Remus wills it to and settling them into darkness for sleep.

[edupunkn00b]

Here is the first chapter of my fanfic because it needs more reads

Please 💙

I worked really hard on this

Of all the places Logan could work on his endless piles of paperwork, the coffee house was, by far, his favorite.Perhaps it was the scent of coffee beans laced with vanilla or the quiet hum of patrons chatting in the booths. Maybe it was the simplistic aesthetic that made him feel at ease.

But that would mean Logan would have to admit that he felt things.

Which he doesn’t.

Logan Adams doesn’t feel anything.

Seated at his usual corner booth, Logan focused intently on grading papers. His brow was knit in concentration while his red fountain pen marked his students' mistakes. The occasional sip of coffee momentarily distracted him until a gentle breeze stirred his papers.

 As he glanced up, he noticed a man entering the coffee shop. From the looks of it, he seemed to be a farmer with his slightly disheveled flannel shirt and sweat-drenched, dirty hair as he carried a large crate to the front counter and began chatting with the shop owner. Logan's gaze lingered on the stranger for a moment before returning to his papers, uninterested in further observation.

Yet, despite Logan's apparent disinterest, the farmer approached his table and greeted him with a simple. "Hey there."

Logan studied the farmer, unexpectedly acknowledging the charm of the farmer’s unkempt appearance. The dirt smeared on his face made Logan’s hands twitch with an overwhelming desire to wipe it away, his curly hair was barely contained by a headband, and there was an authentic scent of nature surrounding him. Logan couldn't understand why someone like him would approach him. His own appearance - a dark blue suit and slicked-back dark brown hair - couldn’t possibly be appealing to someone like him.

Logan ignored the greeting and returned to his papers, silently hoping the man would take the hint and leave him alone. However, the farmer, confused by the lack of response, cocked his head to the side. “I’m not a ghost, am I? No ‘hello’? Nothing?”

“Hello,” Logan replied dryly, fighting the childish urge to lower his head to the table to express his annoyance at being bothered.

“Hello to you too, handsome.”

Logan lifted his head, a hint of surprise flickering across his face. "Excuse you?"

“I said ‘hello’...”

The farmer ran his fingers through his reddish-brown hair, and despite himself, Logan’s mouth tugged into an amused smile of his own. But rather than show his interest in this interaction, it quickly turned into a scowl. “Handsome. You called me handsome.”

“Oh, did I? Whoops. Slip of the tongue, I suppose.”

Logan leaned back, adjusting his glasses. In a situation like this, the reasonable course of action would be to inform the stranger that he is married, uninterested, and wished to be left alone. However, he found himself unable to say anything.

Maybe he found the encounter a welcome distraction, or perhaps it was the most interesting thing to happen in his mundane life in a long time. Regardless, he regarded the farmer with a curious tilt of his head.

Then, another person entered the coffee shop, causing a gust of wind to sweep Logan's papers off the table. As the farmer hurriedly gathered them, Logan tried to reorganize them into their respective stacks with visible frustration. Then, when the farmer extended a hand to offer back some of the papers, Logan snatched them away.

“Do you need help reorganizing?”

"It's alright. These papers are a mess anyway," Logan muttered.

After adjusting his flannel - which did little to improve his disheveled appearance - he sat in the booth opposite Logan. The teacher shot him a puzzled look, clearly uncomfortable with the unsolicited company.

Shrugging with a casual grin, the farmer said, “Oh, well, if you insist I sit with you, I have a few minutes to spare.”

“I don’t want company,” Logan replied, and the stranger's grin only widened.

“I’m sure you don’t, Mr.-”

The farmer offered a hand for a handshake, which made Logan recoil. His gaze flitted from the dirty hand being offered in his direction to the grin on the farmer’s face. Though the thought of dirtying his hands was far from appealing, he returned the handshake.

“Adams. Logan Adams.”

The farmer's gaze seemed to linger on Logan's face before shifting down to look at the papers under Logan's arm. "A teacher?"

“Yes.”

“What grade?”

“High school.”

“Do you enjoy it?”

Logan furrowed his eyebrows, "Of course I enjoy it," he said a little too sharply. "I wouldn’t be doing it if I didn’t enjoy it."

"Just wondering," the farmer said softly in case he had unknowingly offended Logan. "It's just... well, you seem a bit worn out, that’s all," he added cautiously, nodding toward the dark smudges under Logan's eyes.

After all the time Logan dedicated every morning to applying makeup to prevent observations like that, he was frustrated that it was still pointed out. His jaw tightened as he stared at the farmer, who quickly changed the subject.

“I’m not usually the one making these runs, so I don’t come here often. Is their coffee good?”

“I believe so, yes.”

Logan continued to occupy himself with grading again while the stranger talked to him because, unfortunately, the papers weren’t going to grade themselves.

And talk he did. For a very long time.

"Logan?"

Logan paused, and he looked up. " Yes?"

“Are you listening to me?”

“Sir…” Logan sighed, setting his pen down, "In case it wasn't clear when you first approached me, I am busy. I'm not sure what made you feel inclined to sit with me of all people, but that was your mistake. No, I am not listening to you."

Hoping that would finally be direct enough to make the stranger leave him be, Logan returned to his work, only to see him pick up one of his papers and start reading it.

“Math, huh?” the farmer mused, his finger tracing the red marks on the page. “Was never my strong suit.”

"I can't say I'm surprised,"

"What's that supposed to mean? You think I'm stupid?"

“Given your decision to continue this one-sided exchange despite my clear signals? Yes, I have come to that conclusion," Logan replied, causing a moment of silence between them until the farmer broke it with a laugh.

“Well, that’s not very nice. I wouldn’t have expected something like that from you.”

“You don’t know me.”

“You’re right, I don’t. But I want to,” said the stranger, finally rising from the booth, “Tell you what, how about I leave you alone today, and I’ll come back to talk to you tomorrow when you're not swamped with paperwork? Sounds good?"

Logan nodded, unintentionally committing himself to be there the next day and not spend it working, which was uncommon for him.

“Alright. I’m Barry, by the way. You didn’t ask my name, but if you’re gonna be my new coffee buddy, I thought you should know.”

Barry gave Logan a quick two-finger salute before he headed back to his truck. Logan gave a confused glance before he shook his head, chastised himself for getting distracted, and refocused on the papers before him.

Yet, the image of Barry's smile persisted in his mind, leaving him oddly unbalanced.

Continue reading:

[edupunkn00b]

do you know where "no beta we die like x" comes from and how it is used?

The term "beta" in this context is short for "beta reader" - a person who reads a fic while it's still in the editing stage and helps the writer get it ready to post. Some betas check grammar. Some check canon compliance. Some are sensitivity readers. There are lots of things that betas can do.

So functionally, saying "no beta" means that the writer didn't get this checked by a second person before they posted it. It's a warning that there might be errors or typos etc. It's mostly used when an author has written something quickly and is posting without doing a lot of (or any) edits first.

As for where it comes from? It all started with a bumper sticker.

This image was an internet meme at one point, and it got meme'd on in the form of "no ___ we ___ like men"

Here on tumblr, one of the versions that got really popular was from now-deleted user @grec1a who created this version:

From there, it migrated to AO3 as the "no beta we die like men" tag, and very often the word men is replaced by the name of a character who dies in canon.

[edupunkn00b]

Day 6: sharing clothes

@imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper @dukeceit-week-2024

[edupunkn00b]

Coming Soon: May Trope Mayhem 2024!

It’s almost time for May Trope Mayhem!

What is May Trope Mayhem? It’s Duck Prints Press’s annual multi-fandom/original work creation event! Our creators have shared their favorite tropes, and we’ve picked 30 (+1 free day!), one per day of May to make an awesome, fun, diverse list of prompts to inspire your creativity. Come May 1st, we invite everyone to create a ficlet, artwork, gif set, photo montage, or whatever else they feel like, inspired by the trope of the day. We’re open to any fandom or no fandom at all, original characters and old faves, any ship (yes even that one) or no ship or reader inserts or, or, or… basically, if you can imagine it, we can accommodate it!

This year marks our fourth-annual May Trope Mayhem. Curious about the event? You can learn some by checking out our previous three years!

the 2021 May Trope Mayhem list and rules

the 2022 May Trope Mayhem list and rules

the 2023 May Trope Mayhem list and rules

the AO3 Parent Collection

The rules for 2024 will be about the same as in the past, so the only big change will be in the tropes – some are repeats, some are not. And of course day 31 is still a free day – we’d love to know YOUR favorite trope, especially if it it doesn’t end up our list for this year!

The 2024 list goes public on May 1st. Mark your calendars, tell yours friends, and get ready to create with us! And follow us on social media to make sure you don’t miss a thing!

Backers on Patreon can see the list early! It’s up now – become a backer and check it out.

[edupunkn00b]

Round 1 Side A

27. Side by Side in the Mindscape - @/edupunkn00b (ao3) vs. 15. The Stowaway's Heart - @/thesympatheticvillain (ao3)

Propaganda:

Side by Side in the Mindscape:

Image ID: A screenshot that reads: Excellent character studies, Thomas involvement, Pirates! And a great interpretation of Orange

End Image ID.

Image ID: A screenshot that reads: Fantasy soulmate au with intruloxiety! Virgil stows away on a ship and is rescued by a family of selkies.

End Image ID.

[edupunkn00b]

I'm going to go and update my House of Tarot Cards au playlist to include mood music for the first of the two sequel fics. Title is yet to be settled on but I know that one of the chapters will be entitled

"The Star - Upright"

[edupunkn00b]

23

[edupunkn00b]

23

[edupunkn00b]

Reblog to give the person you reblogged from the ability to finish their WIPs

[edupunkn00b]

So... no peace of mind for writers? Okay

[edupunkn00b]

My favorite pirate joke is “why does it take pirates so long to learn the alphabet? Because they spend years at c” not because it’s THAT funny but because it’s a relatively simple joke that nobody ive told it to has ever correctly guessed the punchline for because they all think it’s gonna be a joke about arrrr

[edupunkn00b]

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.

[edupunkn00b]

Side by Side in the Mindscape Series (AO3)

A left-of-canon series that includes:

Servatis (a) Curiositas - A look inside Logan and Janus' hidden shared history.

The Serpent and His Muse - Dukeceit shorts, including the tale of why they were willing to risk so much with Remus' reveal.

Shackled - The story of how Thomas really had shackled his Creativity and what Roman and Logan decided to do about it.

Overture - The aftermath of the wedding and how the Sides started to heal.

Do Us Any Harm - Growing fissures in the Sides' relationships meant the time for drastic action had come.

A Little Bit of Love - The Sides have some healing to do. A little bit of love certainly wouldn't do them any harm.

AO3 link to the full series

[edupunkn00b]

chapter 1 of the sanders sides fanfic i've talked briefly about on here is up! 🎉🎉

pls read it i'm begging you pls pls pls