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edupunkn00b · 2 days ago

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This May Sting a Bit

Late at night, a shaky portal to the Imagination opens in the middle of the living room. Logan did not expect who would come out of it. Or the state he would be in.

Written for @oatmealdaydreams for @tss-camp-and-coffee's Camp Cartoon writing event. Prompt: hurt/comfort Logince WC: 1656 - Rated: G - CW: injuries, mentions of blood and burns

Not quite four in the morning, Logan lingered over his half-drunk coffee. If Patton knew what he was doing, he’d most certainly cluck his tongue, swapping his brew for a mug of hot cocoa. And give him an earful about making better choices.

But Patton wasn’t awake, and neither was anyone else. Well, Remus almost certainly wasn’t sleeping, somewhere in the Mindscape, wreaking his own brand of havoc.

It was equally certain Remus couldn’t care less if Logan were drinking coffee at this hour of the night.

He hummed. This ‘hour of the morning’ was more accurate phrasing given the current time and state of things. Whatever may have been his original intentions for slipping down to the kitchen when Logan an hour ago, there was little chance of him returning to bed now.

Sighing, he drained the last of his cup, determined to make good use of his ill-timed alertness. He’d just finished rinsing the mug when a cacophony of sound erupted in the living room. Dropping the cup—thankfully break-proof—he rushed to investigate.

A three-meter circular portal had opened in the wall next to the television. Unframed and not in its usual place in the hallway between the twin’s rooms, the boundary on this door to the Imagination wavered, crackling as it immediately began to shrink.

The roar of flames and the dragon that breathed them assaulted Logan’s ears. Smoke and soot spilled out, following by a second dragon’s cry. The boundary shrank further, now barely half a meter across. Just before the portal closed, a hand reached out. Bruised and bloodied, smeared with ash, the hand flailed, scrabbling for a handhold that was not there. The hand reached further and the once brilliant white of Roman’s tunic peeked into view.

Without thinking, Logan grabbed his hand and pulled the Prince free from the portal just as the boundary collapsed, sealing the fire and dragons in the Imagination behind it.

“Roman!”

Tunic and pants singed, thin wisps of smoke curled up from his clothes, his hair. Roman’s belt and scabbard were hot to the touch, as were the warped epaulettes on his shoulders. He had more wounds that Logan could count at a glance, with a slowly spreading dark stain creeping out from the gash in his trousers. Liberally dusted with soot, it was difficult to see precisely where the blood was coming from.

“Calculator Watch,” Roman mumbled, head heavy on Logan’s arm. His eyes were only half-open and even that seemed to require extraordinary effort. “Didn’t think anybody’d be up. No-one usually is.”

“You didn’t—you—No-one—You fool!” Logan sputtered, willingly expressing his worry as anger. It was easier. More productive. “How often do you go off gallivanting on your own in the Imagination in the middle of the night?”

Roman’s only answer was a shrug.

“Roman?” Logan shook him, wincing when Roman whimpered briefly before opening his eyes.

The hero’s mask slipped back into place and he gave Logan a crooked smile. “I shall be fine,” he said, voice quavering. “Just need a moment.”

“To hell with that,” Logan spat. It took a bit of work to get his feet under him in a squat but finally he got Roman properly positioned in his arms. He pushed up, lifting him off the floor. Roman’s arm fumbled, weakly looping over his shoulders.

“I can walk, Nerdy Wolverine,” he mumbled, eyes still closed.

“Mm-hm,” Logan grunted. “That’s your brother’s nickname for me.”

As Logan hoped, irritation sparked fresh energy in Roman’s limbs and he held on tighter. “Don’ wanna talk about him,” he growled.

“Fine. We can talk about what in the name of Newton you were doing out there instead,” Logan said. Grip finally stable, he staggered to the bathroom with his Princely burden. “But first we’re getting all this ash off you so I can see what we’re dealing with.”

“’m fine, Logan,” Roman mumbled.

Eyebrow raised, Logan didn’t need to say aloud what they both knew. If he couldn’t be bothered to come up with a new nickname—not to mention fight his way out of Logan’s grip, Roman most certainly was far from fine.

“Let’s get your wounds cleaned and then you can convince me just how ‘fine’ you are.”

Too shaky to stand—though he’d never admit it—Roman quickly acquiesced to Logan’s suggestion that a bath might be safer than a shower. Grateful to have avoided that particular argument, Logan held his tongue as he helped him into the tub, sudsing up his hair and back while Roman slowly worked to wash whatever else he could reach. Save for a burn and a nasty trio of gashes on his thighs—the dragon’s claws, Logan guessed—most of the other wounds covering his hands and face and shoulders were smaller. Burns, cuts, and bruises, some of which were already showing signs of his rapid healing.

Whatever else could be said for the brash, pig-headed, egotistical—Logan halted his own internal tirade. Whatever else could be said for him, Roman was, in the end, a more than adept fighter. Logan was certain anyone else—with the possible exception of his even more violent brother—would have fared far, far worse.

After refreshing the bath four separate times when the water grew too murky to do much more than simply spread the blood and soot around, Logan deemed him sufficiently cleansed and helped him out of the tub. Wrapping him first in the largest towel he could find, Logan protected his modesty the best he could while still patting him dry.

The bandages would stick better to dry skin.

Clearly still too weak to use his Creative powers to simply conjure fresh clothes, Roman needed Logan to summon an existing tee-shirt and shorts from upstairs. Finally dressed, Logan settled him into a seat on the edge of the tub and knelt in front of him. He opened the first aid kit and pulled out the gauze and a tube of bactine.

“This may sting a bit,” he warned before dabbing it around the deepest of the wounds. Roman flinched but didn’t make a sound and simply watched Logan work without complaint or comment.

His silence was unnerving.

“So would you like to tell me what you were attempting to accomplish out there?” Logan asked as he wound Roman’s thigh in a triple layer of gauze.

“Does it matter?” he asked quietly. “I failed.”

Logan liked it better when he called him a nerd. Tearing off a bit of tape to seal the edges of the wrapping, Logan hummed. “I would not characterize arriving home alive as a failure.”

Leaning against the wall, Roman’s eyes fell shut. “It’s not a success,” he muttered.

“Falsehood,” Logan said, sharper than he’d intended.

Roman’s eyes flew open, red-rimmed and glossy with tears.

“You, Roman, are worth far more than some Pyrrhic victory over the creatures of your Imagination,” he said firmly. “You are a vital part of Thomas’ psyche. Beyond carrying half his creativity, you bear his sense of strength and self-assurance and his—”

“But I’m not his hero anymore, though, am I?” he said, pulling away. “Heroes don’t hurt people.”

“Roman, you did not intend to harm Thomas with your ruling,” Logan began. “You were merely—”

“I mean De—I mean Janus.” Roman huffed and looked away, nostrils flared. “And you.”

Oh.

Logan stared at him for a long moment before busying himself with the first aid kit. Eyes focused on the blistering burn along Roman’s other thigh, he shook his head. “I am unharmed by anything you have said to me.”

“Do you want Janus to show up?” Roman said. “We both know that’s not true.”

He spread another layer of burn cream to Roman’s leg before answering. “I… suppose it is not entirely accurate that your words have had zero impact me,” he finally said, glancing up from the corner of his eye. “I… I have endeavored not to… fixate on it, though. I have a job to do.”

“Is that all I am to you? Is that all this is?” Roman asked, gesturing around them at the towel drying on the rack, the open first aid kit. “You’re just doing your job to—to—to keep ‘Thomas’ psyche’ well?” he sputtered and pounding his fist on the edge of the tub. “We used to be friends, dammit!”

“I—” An inexplicable lump grew in Logan’s throat and he shook his head. Roman simply watched him wrap fresh gauze over his burn. Arms crossed over his chest and jaw set, Roman wore the posture of impatience, annoyance. Anger.

But his eyes were still wet and he made no move to leave the cramped bathroom.

Logan sighed. “No,” he said at last. “No, Roman, of course that’s not all you are to—When…” He took in the cuts and burns and bruises littering Roman’s body and he shuddered. “When I first saw your hand reaching out from the Imagination, all I could think was, well… I couldn’t think. I just…” He frowned, searching fruitlessly for the right word. “I just… felt.”

Silence dropped between them again but Roman’s crossed arms loosened, slowly sliding back down to rest at his sides.

Clearing his throat, Logan reached for the hand with the most burns. “I do not believe I am ready to discuss my… feelings on the matter,” he said. “Yet,” he added, meeting Roman’s eyes. “But believe me when I tell you it is heroic to attempt this conversation.”

Roman’s face softened into an almost smile.

“And, perhaps—if you wish—I could accompany you to speak with Janus,” Logan offered with a small shrug as he dabbed ointment over Roman’s burnt knuckles. “I could… mediate during the conversation or help you prepare beforehand by serving as a sounding board of sorts or—“

Carefully closing his fingers around Logan’s hand, Roman nodded. “I’d like that,” he said with a tiny smile. “Nerd.”

#sanders sides #sasi #tss #sanders sides fanfiction #logince #eventually #platonic or romantic is left as an exercise for the reader #or for future stories #ts logan #ts roman #other sides mentioned #hurt/comfort #canonverse #tss camp cartoon

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deikshen · 2 months ago

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Shen Jiu—father of a little Shen Yuan—who never joined CQMS after saving Qi-ge's life, both father and son rogue cultivators now. Shen Yuan is a curious child who quickly turns into a nosy teenager, and Shen Jiu enjoys spending time doing small cultivation jobs, helping his brothel Jiejie, and having a peaceful life with his son.

Over time, Shen Yuan grows large enough to be indistinguishable from Shen Jiu. Just a little bit of their eyes and expressions can differentiate them at a glance. The Meimei in the brothel who don't know them for a long time often refer to them as the Cultivator Twins, and that is a bit of the reputation they have. They are not important enough to attract the attention of large sects, and their low profile keeps them working without problems. Shen Jiu is in charge of making talismans, fighting monsters, and making medicines!! Shen Yuan transcribes manuals, compiles bestiaries, and sells information. Almost any time it comes to gathering plants, herbs or mushrooms, or working with some beast, Shen Yuan will be there to do it!

Eventually and under some circumstances, Shen Yuan ends up poisoning himself with Without-a-Cure- He swears it wasn't his fault!! It was an unforeseen accident, it could happen to anyone! But his cultivation base is damaged, and the only person Shen Jiu knows to help with the poison and create a treatment, is the Peak Lord of Qian Cao, Mu Qingfang.

However, Shen Jiu refuses to introduce him as his son!! He even refuses to get too close to the sect of his own. What's more, even so, he urges Shen Yuan to show up at Cang Qiong Mountain, impersonate him to the Sect Leader and demand that medical help be provided.

... Shen Yuan doesn't believe it will work. But apparently, it really does! Because Zhangmen-shixiong turns pale when he sees him, and he orbits around him as if he wants to hug him, but without making any sudden movements. Shen Yuan does his best imitation of his father, being sullen, hostile, rude and demanding, and it works beautifully. He is sent to receive medical care. Mu Qingfang prepares tonics and medicines, and he will need to visit Qian Cao Peak once every three weeks to have his meridians cleansed.

And, while in Qian Cao, Shen Yuan meets Luo Binghe.

He is a young disciple of Bai Zhan! Cute as a bun, but apparently, he had defeated at least ten of his martial brothers in battle!! So powerful!! Shen Yuan is not surprised to see him sometimes, when he visits Qian Cao for his meridian cleansings; Luo Binghe shines like a wounded sun, and seems to want to get closer to Shen Yuan more and more, always talking, asking, wanting to talk to him. Even if Shen Yuan has to force himself to imitate his father, can't help but smile behind his fan! He's a good, adorable boy!!

The boy is exceptionally intrigued by Shen Yuan, where he comes from, how he became infected with the Without-a-Cure. The boy also seems to be waiting for him, looking at him with barely concealed curiosity, doing meaningless things as if he were waiting for a reaction from him. He pours tea for him and looks at him expectantly, he drops his tray and stands still as if expecting a harsh scolding. But even if he could, Shen Yuan would never scold him! Luo Binghe is a wonderful boy.

Shen Yuan greatly enjoys visiting Cang Qiong just to see him, even if he has to hide his emotions behind his father's mask. Even if he's supposed to be hostile or not too nice. He... He really enjoys the company of the young disciple Luo Binghe. And maybe... Maybe he's considering telling him the truth. He's kind of like, a friend! Right? He thinks he can tell him the truth... At some point. Perhaps after the Immortal Conference Alliance, so that Luo Binghe can fully concentrate on that and emerge triumphant!

(What Shen Yuan doesn't know is that this adorable boy is not a simple young disciple. Luo Binghe was once the Emperor of the Three Realms, a ferocious heavenly demon... who had perished after a fierce qi deviation. Horror! And he had become aware just before Cang Qiong's disciple selection. A cycle of torture repeated endlessly!

But there was no Shen Qingqiu to select him. Instead, he was selected for Bai Zhan by Liu Qingge; Qing Jing's Peak Lord was not even Shen Qingqiu.

... And Luo Binghe is freaking lost. Where is that horrible Shizun of his? He's raised through fights, through steady cultivation, through... friends? Through a good Shizun. He's having a nice new life. It's not like the life he had, but, he thinks, maybe it's retribution from the universe? Giving him what he should have had, not forcing him into a life of suffering and hatred. Luo Binghe is not going to complain about it.

Then, Shen Qingqiu appears. Well, not Shen Qingqiu. Shen Jiu.

Even though he's hostile, there's something... different about him. He's softer. His cutting comments aren't entirely poisonous, and when Luo Binghe speaks, he... listens. He looks at him as if he sees him as an equal, and more than once he found him smiling!!! Behind his fan, yes, but he was smiling!! Luo Binghe doesn't understand. Could this be... the same kind Shizun whose glimpse he managed to get in that other world? Did the universe put him before him, for him, in this world where Luo Binghe is not suffering? In this world, so that Luo Binghe doesn't have so much pain and can instead find peace?

Luo Binghe doesn't know. He only hopes that at the Immortal Alliance Conference, the Abyss won't open up and swallow him up. ... Or just let it happen. Then he can return as a Demon Lord to see if this No-Shizun really still sees him as an equal. If he remains kind, if he continues to smile behind his fan, if his face continues to light up at the sight of him even when he becomes a monster upon exiting the Endless Abyss... Luo Binghe isn't sure what he'll do, but he doesn't think a harem is necessary this time. His No-Shizun alone would suffice.)

(For his part, oh. Shen Jiu has also died and woken up in his own loop of suffering watching the flames of the Qiu estate. And he remembers everything.

This time, however, he welcomed into his the life that Qi-ge had unknowingly given him after a chance encounter, and allowed this life to exist far away instead of joining Qing Jing. He will never go near that cursed sect, nor its demonic disciple, nor all the horrible martial brothers who abandoned him to his fate to be tortured.

Shen Jiu will stay safe. He will survive. It's more than he could do before.

He doesn't mind reliving the past. He doesn't mind sneaking away. He will stay alive, and he will keep his son safe, no matter what he has to do.)