#I feel like Thomas would be the most tolerable to hang around

[nomsfaultau]

Reverse Fault Au for April 1st

Basically, what if SBI + Tubbo were humans working for the SCP Foundation, as well as anomalifying villain ocs at the end (which is where most of the tws come into play) 

Tommy: Thomas. A Threat Assessor, like Dr Blake. He has an uncanny knack for driving even the most docile objects to bloodlust, which is useful in ascertaining exactly how much resources must be allocated to containing that SCP. No one is quite sure how he does it, only that a simple conversation can send objects into rages that somehow never touch the man. Thomas simply wears a delighted grin as devastation unfolds. Why does he do it? Why, the love of chaos of course. He’s only bringing out their innate evil, after all. The anomaly wanted to do it, he just gave it the push to act upon its violent nature. 

Philza: Dr. A. Gon. Is an ancient decrepit old man from The War. He picks up little favorites among the anomalies and is super kind to them. Basically acts as a father figure for them, offering advice, giving little treats, limiting punishments, and helping them cope with the trauma of the Foundation…up until the moment he grows bored. After that it’s experiment after experiment trying to squeeze any last drop of interest out of the object before he discards them and moves onto the next. Anomalies tend to be completely psychologically and physically wrecked by the time he’s done with them. Likes to trap anomalies in complex promises that the Foundation can exploit easily. His cane is actually a sword stick, and the cape he has (to mimic wings) can act as a weighted net. 

The Blade: Agent Boore. An MTF captain who leads a squad that somehow literally never manages to fail to recapture an anomaly thanks to his leadership. A lot of anomalies are terrified of him, as he tends to handle the containment breach punishments after catching them. Anomalies don’t tend to try to escape ever again after encountering Agent Boore. He armed to the teeth with near batman levels of gear. Tactics include pumping adrenaline into his veins, filling a room with toxic gas (immune bc of his gas mask (he wears it even while sleeping)) and the humble bazooka. Definitely on steroids. Agent Boore sees a containment breach as a challenge. He likes proving humanity (but mostly himself) stronger than monsters. Is insanely paranoid and tends to be the straight man who is secretly more insane than everyone else. Met Dr. A. Gon in WWII but got Captain America’d, and is actually now trying to sue marvel for using his life story. He does the job in order to protect the poor orphans of the world (evil)

Tubbo: Security Camera B. Is a security officer. Not a single thing goes unnoticed in the entire Foundation. The second an anomaly is out of line they’re reported and appropriately punished. Their personalities are represented in reverse fault by their favorite monitors. Jasmine has a picture of a dinosaur as her screen saver, Rhodes is a picture of an apple tree and technically it’s the oldest of the new computers but they run a mean legal complaint software that really saves the Foundation’s hide. Rosalind is a pic of someone meditating in a field of flowers and Sec Cam B secretly uses that computer to play games to distress. Sec Cam B also works as a recruitment officer given how much conviction about the Foundation they have. ‘It’s the moral thing to do, you have to join. Don’t you want to save humanity?’ They’re insufferably righteous in moral conviction. Lawful evil. 

Wilbur: A. Void. Initial contact researcher, as he has a sharp eye (the other lost to an anomaly years ago) and an even sharper tongue that tends to not only save his life but also weasel out information from the object that would otherwise not have been gotten. His prejudices are flipped from Fault Au. Now, he thinks it unfair that anomalies have more power than humans, and that such a dominance would only lead to subjugation if given time. After all, the powerful always abuse such might don’t they? He believes everything he does is necessary for his own survival. He thinks his punishments are fair, which they could almost be considered to be compared to actual sadists like Agent Boore or Dr. A. Gon. 

———————————————————————

And on to the villain SCPs!

Webb: A humanoid SCP with eight eyes, six arms, mandibles. Webb has incorrectly healed surgical scars on its throat from an encounter with Dr. A. Gon’s scalpel. An anomaly that can shoot out tendrils of spiderweb that, when making contact, suppress heightened emotions. Effect is strongest while webbing is attached to both object and target, though loses effect about ten minutes after creation, so it is sometimes used to capture other anomalies. While not strong, it is important that Webb doesn’t escape because any urge to recontain it will be suppressed. At most extreme, it can shut down a person till they’re paralyzed, which on a few occasions was enough to stop a human heart because continuing to beat was simply too much effort. 

Dr. Blake: The Scimitar Smile. It is a set of 32 humanoid teeth with a crack through the upper right incisor due to an encounter with Agent Boore. The teeth can move somehow, and tend to hunt in a pack. On their own, a person within their aura will be acutely aware of their own flaws. Often persons with disabilities such as PTSD or anxiety will be triggered by its presence. Exposure to this object leads to strong self loathing and occasional suicides.

It’s when it gets a Host that the Scimitar Smile is at its most dangerous. Once a Host is selected, the teeth will crawl up them and burrow like ticks into the flesh of their cheeks in the arrangement of an external smile. The Scimitar Smile prefers to keep Hosts for a while, but will inevitably abandon it, and during escapes will take many Hosts in rapid succession. Old Hosts tend to scream when they hear their own names, have very little agency, and are incredibly compliant to orders.

Once assimilated, both the Host and the Scimitar Smile’s mouths will begin to speak, saying different things. When recorded and replayed, it sounds like chattering nonsense. Despite being unaware of its contents, the noise is regarded as a cognitohazard as it tends to drive people insane. Only a few reports of what individuals hear in person exist, as those that survive are left in psychological annihilation and refuse to talk about what they heard and did as a result. What we can piece together is this: Past being aware of their flaws, a listener is manipulated into acting on them in the most self destructive way possible.

The Scimitar Smile brings out the worst in people.

[msfcatlover]

The Public Personas I think each Wayne Kid would get in the Reverse Robins verse

Duke: The easy-going, down-to-earth, reasonable one. Or, perhaps more accurately, the straightman to Bruce’s comedian. Duke’s fond exasperation & surprisingly grown-up attitude as a child made for an excellent counter to Brucie’s bombastic antics, and had plenty of people joking that Duke was the actual parent between the two of them. Seeing the two of them at work is seeing a decade-perfected comedy tag-team in action, and it is a beautiful thing. As Duke grew up, his reputation shifted to being the Chillest Dude (gender neutral) in any given room, and he mastered the sort of subtle, charismatic warmth that makes everyone feel like they’re your best friend. Duke’s one of those celebrities you just want to crack a beer open with and chat about your day, because they seem like they’d be fun to hang out with, y’know? (Which also helps separate him from his hero identities. Duke Thomas? Dress up like a cross between a motorcycle racer & medieval knight in order to speed around downtown, jump off bridges & skyscrapers, and kick the Joker in the face on a biweekly basis? Are you fucking high?)

Damian: Starts out as the acerbic, hotheaded brat. Grows up into Gotham’s favorite Bad Boy With A Heart Of Gold, thanks to both his maintained public attitude & work with helping animals around the world, even after he mostly moves to Bludhaven. (Yes, he rides a motorcycle, wears mostly leather, and has just so many piercings. Most of the piercings are fake, so that they can’t be grabbed in fights; the real ones he almost exclusively wears small studs in. They all come out in preparation for patrol.)

Cassandra: The Ice Queen, so cool & confident that some people genuinely think the family is lying about her selective mutism and it’s just a front so she has an excuse to ignore people. (She is deeply offended by this.) Zero tolerance for bullshit, cutting edge fashionista, single handedly got ASL added as a language course to every school in Gotham, and got plenty of rich jerks to learn if only to know what she was gossiping about with her siblings when they kept glancing over and laughing at everyone else. Universally assumed to be the one who'll take over WE when Bruce retires, despite her complete lack of interest.

Steph: The Wild Child, the only one to follow in Brucie’s footsteps. This was not the persona she wanted but in her society debut gala, something came up and Duke needed a distraction so he could go deal with it. Steph set her shoulders, grabbed a bottle off the snack table behind them, and said, “You got it.” First impressions are everything, and she never could shake that one… not helped by the fact that sometimes, an empty-headed party girl was exactly what they needed to gather information, and Steph had both the reputation to play the part & clout to get wherever she wanted once Bruce fostered her. (After her death, people call it a “downward spiral.” Others counter this with a clip from an interview she gave earlier that year, where Stephanie Brown talked about her hard work in school & the community, and her frustration over her reputation. “Of course it bothers me,” she said, “It bothers me that what I’m wearing matters more than the causes I promote. It bothers me that a few sips of wine outweigh organizing an entire event. It bothers me that flirting with people my own age upsets people more than a fucking shooting in downtown Gotham!” She laughed bitterly. “Is it the hair? Should I dye it? Would that make people take me more seriously?” She turned to look directly into the camera, tears shining in her eyes. “I’m—I’m sixteen. What do you want from me?”)

Tim: Tim starts out as the resident Cool Nerd. He’s friendly, he’s chill, he likes skateboarding & computer games—and also, he GMs on the weekends, he likes to solve math puzzles & write his own algorithms, he knows more about the history of sci-fi than any human has right to. Tim’s the kind of nerd who makes his nerdy hobbies seem cool by association. (Still figuring the rest out, honestly. Since he’s Oracle in this verse, part of me feels like he’d stay out of the public eye more? But another part of me says Tim would make his public persona as loud as possible, so that people think of him beyond his injury. “Bruce Wayne’s Paraplegic Son” is not an identity Tim would ever be okay letting people define him by, I think. I know he does a lot of charity work, and is more open to talking about his challenges than Cass is, in a very “if I tell you upfront, you can’t use it against me (also, maybe someone else needs to hear this)” kinda way. I know he’s still involved in the business world to some degree. I’m just having trouble pinning down how Tim would characterize Timothy Drake-Wayne [post-injury] to the public.)

Jason: Jason is kinda the inverse of Damian, being soft-spoken & seemingly shy until you bring up a cause he cares passionately about. He's very protective of his siblings, and is responsible for about 80% of the "Wayne Kids Spotted! You Won't Believe These Adorable Pictures!" tabloid headlines (Cass & Damian dote on Jason, those candids being one of the only times people get pictures of their "soft sides." Jason also volunteers to help Duke & Tim out a lot, and is often seen trailing after them trying to look professional.) Every woman over 30 in Gotham just wants to pinch his pudgy little cheeks, at least until Jason hits his last growth spurt and comes back from a year abroad looking like an absolute hunk. But still just as humble, just as polite, and just as passionate about helping others. Isn't he just a Big Ol' Marshmallow? (Jason maintains this reputation mainly by biting his tongue & constantly reminding himself if he can't think of anything nice to say, don't say anything at all. After every single interview or public event, you can find him down in the cave, ranting to himself about everything that pissed him off and taking it out on the poor training dummies.)

Dick: Started out very surly & private, but all his siblings defended that the poor boy had gone through so much trauma in under a year (losing his parents, being taken from the family he grew up with, and then losing Bruce just a few months later,) that it was only to be expected. They worked hard to keep him protected from the public eye while he was grieving. When little Richie finally made his public debut, Gotham was delighted to discover an energetic Sunshine Child, who wasn't exactly a great listener & was more than a bit of a showoff, but gosh darn if he wasn't the cutest thing anyone had seen in years. (Dick keeps up the shallow-but-cheerful Sunshine act all the way into his adult life, coming the closest out of any of them to having a true Brucie persona as an adult.)

[theoriginalcarnivorousmuffin]

Hey. Thanks for answering my last ask. I did like Tom/Lily back at my day (lol as if I'm that old) but to be fair...any ship with Lily is better than Jilly.

One question. What you think of Hinny and Luna x Ginny? Cause nit gone lie I think Luna x Ginny has more potential than Hinny. But maybe is because I love the trope "pop falls for unpop"

... I’m not sure I’m supposed to feel as insulted as I do that I apparently barely cleared the very low bar that is Jily. 

Moving on.

I’ve given most of my thoughts on Ginny and shipping here.

Harry/Ginny

To sum up for what you’re asking though, I think Harry/Ginny is a complete disaster. Oh, Harry’s the only one she has eyes for but... it is not a good relationship.

Both of them are attracted to the idea of one another and barely seem to know who the other is.

In the case of Ginny, she tries to be someone who she thinks Harry will be attracted to. She takes note of what failed with his relationship with Cho and goes out of her way not to be that. All of her actions in the sixth book are geared towards desperately getting Harry’s attention. More, she projected this heroic persona onto Harry Potter that she never seems to see anything beneath it.

Harry for his own part... likes Ginny’s skin? His attraction to her in Halfblood Prince is one of the weirdest things I have ever read. He seems to lust after her, sort of, we get this green rage monster that throws a fit every time he sees Dean Thomas with Ginny. However, he really doesn’t know much about her and proceeds to barely spend any time with her even when they start dating. That he leaves her in Deathly Hallows is very telling, and very chilling to me. Not only is Ginny not a part of “the gang” and not invited to their club house, Harry is effectively leaving her to be taken hostage by Voldemort. This doesn’t bother him, at all, but then nothing really does.

I also think Harry’s gay (he spends a lot more time drooling after attractive men in canon then he does attractive women), he just doesn’t know it.

So, I think his and Ginny’s marriage is likely a disaster. Ginny has affairs all the time as nothing works out the way she thought it would but is too in love with the fame, the money, and the dream of being Harry Potter’s wife to ever leave. Harry’s utterly oblivious to his wife cheating on him and has to have it pointed out by James Sirius. Harry doesn’t believe him.

I’ll put it like this, their marriage is worse than Ron and Hermione’s. And that, my friend, is a low bar.

A Tangent: Ginny’s Not Popular

I’m actually going to argue that Ginny’s not at all popular. In fact, I imagine she’s actually severely disliked. Harry’s just too oblivious to notice.

So, first, Ginny is the youngest sister of the Weasley family. We see the hit this has on Ron, who has a massive inferiority complex, but we don’t see what it means to Ginny. What we can assume though, is that she’s known, and that the instant she walks into school she has a reputation that’s not necessarily good.

Percy, her brother, is that smarmy asshole prefect.

Fred and George are those assholes who constantly prank everyone. Some think this is hilarious, usually when they’re not the victims, others aren’t too keen on this.

Ron’s that guy who’s constantly getting into trouble with Harry Potter, is a known dumbass who doesn’t even have a working wand in his second year (wizards are elitist like this), and earns hundreds of house points at the end of the year for committing arson.

All of this will feed into how people perceive Ginny before even meeting her. For better or for worse, she is a Weasley, and that means people will see her a certain way.

And then Ginny has the worst first year imaginable.

She isolates herself and pours her heart and soul into a diary. Every second she’s spending talking to Tom Riddle is a second she’s not making friends. More, Ginny’s behavior becomes more and more erratic as Tom Riddle begins to possess her. She starts missing classes, acting strangely, etc.

And I think it’s damning that no one noticed.

No one is watching Ginny, no one is even around her, so if she disappears for a few hours and wakes up covered in blood in the bathroom, nobody knows. Had Tom not written a message informing the entire school that Ginny had been kidnapped, no one would have noticed, Ginny would have died down there in the chamber and it would have been days until someone, maybe, put it together.

Ginny in her first year has no friends.

And then it’s too late.

We see with Harry that people in Hogwarts form friendships fast and they rarely change. You get your clique in you first few weeks of Hogwarts, and if you’re unlucky like Hermione then it takes a few months and a troll nearly killing you to find your group, and then you stick with that group.

Ginny comes back second year, everyone already has their best friends, there’s no room for her. She tries to integrate into a group, they just give her weird looks, and more remember her as that sickly lunatic.

Because remember, that she was possessed is not known beyond a few people. It’s never publicized, and most probably think Harry or Hagrid was behind the Chamber of Secrets Fiasco II: Electric Boogaloo.

So, you get a bunch of kids who don’t want to hang out with Ginny. And, Hogwarts houses are so insular, that Ginny can’t really go and hang out with anyone else.

For all that Ginny joins the quidditch team, for all she joins the DA, I don’t think she ever really has friends. She’s just the youngest and weirdest Weasley.

And then comes her fifth year.

Ginny decides she’s going to date every guy in Hogwarts to get Harry’s attention. Now, good or bad, this is going to get Ginny a reputation, a very negative one. To the male Hogwarts population: Ginny’s an easy lay. To the female Hogwarts population: Ginny’s that bitch who will steal your boyfriend.

Halfblood Prince will not make Ginny any friends.

Ginny/Luna

It has more potential than Harry/Ginny but I personally don’t think it’s going to happen.

Like everyone else, Ginny looks down on Luna, which is a bit hilarious as per the above I don’t think Ginny’s rolling in popularity either. Luna’s weirdness is tolerated at best in a sort of, “Oh, look how cute and nuts she is, let’s pat Luna on the head.”

More, as I explained in the Ginny shipping meta linked, Ginny only has eyes for Harry and I think it would take a lot for her to look in any other direction. And to go for Looney Lovegood instead?

Part of Harry’s appeal is that he’s Wizarding Jesus, he’s important, wonderful, charming, a prince in Ginny’s eyes. Luna’s that batty girl who lives down the street and has radishes in her ears.

I just don’t see Ginny ever going for it.

As for Luna, she’s hard to get a read on, but I believe she’s fully aware of what different people think of her. She’s a very kind and generous person who overlooks this for her friends, but in a romantic partner... I think Luna is waiting for someone who truly understands her or if not that then at least truly likes her.

I don’t think that will ever be Ginny.

[likearmor]

do i wanna know? - draco malfoy

summary: typical enemies to lovers with draco malfoy and gryffindor! reader.

words: 2.8k

warning(s): SMUT, cursing,

(draco and reader aged up to 18)

if there's one thing that you knew for sure, it was that you absolutely despised draco malfoy.

and it wasn’t the normal slytherin and gryffindor rivalry, no, it was worse than that. even your friends said that you hated draco even more than harry potter did, and that was saying something. 

“he’s just an egotistical prick. he doesn’t care about anyone from himself, I swear, if he wasn’t all up snape’s ass I would punch him into oblivion,” you said to your group of friends, walking up the moving stairs back to the gryffindor common room for your free period before lunch. 

on your way there, hermione met up with you, ron, and harry and overheard your conversation. “what did he do this time?” she asked, sighing to herself that the conversation had turned to draco yet again. 

“breathed in her direction,” ron joked, earning a hit to the shoulder from you. “hey! sorry, sorry.” harry laughed from beside you, making you hit him in the shoulder too. 

“you guys are so mean, no, he did not just breath in my direction. he messed up my whole potion, put something in it while I had my back turned. snape made me restart it,” you explained. your three friends nodded, not deciding to argue with you because there was no point in trying to change your mind. its not like they liked him either, though sometimes they thought he didn’t deserve all of your wrath. 

~

you were sitting down on one of the fuzzy comfy chairs in the common room going over some of your history of magic notes with hermione when the two boys came down from the boys’ dorms. ron dropped a chocolate frog on your lap. “thanks,” you muttered, popping it into your mouth and humming at the good taste. you and ron lived for the sweets at honeydukes and you always shared stuff with each other. 

“you guys want to go to some slytherin party?” harry asked, sitting down on the floor underneath you.

hermione winced. “why would we go to a slytherin party?” it’s not like your group was one for going to parties in the first place. “plus, wouldn’t they get busted by snape or someone in the slytherin common room? how would we even get in there?” 

“calm down,” harry said to hermione. “you worry too much sometimes ‘moine. it’s in the room of requirement so only the people who know about it can go. teachers wont find it at all even if they wanted to, top secret.” 

you shut your textbook and set it down on the floor. “sure, why not?” you said, looking at the clock. “what time is it at?” 

your friends looked at you with concern. ron even stopped eating his every flavored beans to give you a concerned look. hermione’s eyes were open wide and harry turned around to look at you. “what?” you asked. 

“you really just volunteered to go to a slytherin party?” ron said. 

“so what?” 

“you, y/n, someone who hates slytherins more than anyone else I've ever known, wants to go to a slytherin party?” ron asked again. “no, doesn’t make sense. you have to be a clone or something.” 

you rolled your eyes. “shut up, I only hate one slytherin. and there will be loads of people there, I probably wont even see him there. c’mon, lets go have fun. it might be more fun than you guys think.”

everyone agreed, even hermione who you thought was just going to stay in and get some of her homework done. soon enough, you were up in the girls’ dorms to get ready for the party. you put on a white sweater and some black jeans, hair coming up in a half down half up style. you looked hot. 

you made sure that hermione also looked hot, you even convinced her to wear a shorter black top. now all you had to do was meet the boys and make your way down to the room of requirement. it was friday and you wanted to party. maybe it would be fun and maybe it would help you let loose after this stressful couple of weeks. 

you walked down with your group to the enterance of the room of requirement, seeing the door appear the second that you got there. making sure that the coast was clear, you all scurried into the busy room. there was shouting and conversations over some loud music in the big room. you could see loads of different people from every type of house. 

“im gonna go look for a drink,” ron said, pushing past you and getting lost in the sea of people. you walked with hermione to the farthest edge of the party. from there you guys leaned against one of the stone walls. in your line of vision, you could see people like seamus finnegan and dean thomas dancing with lavender brown, pulling in harry to dance along with them. 

hermione struck up a conversation with some hufflepuff boy beside you. “hey, im gonna go get something to drink too,” you said to her. you pushed off the wall and made your way towards the drink stand. 

from behind you, you heard someone say, “I didn’t think that I'd see you here.”

draco malfoy. just the person you didn't want to see. 

“what do you want, malfoy,” you said, not even turning around to look at him. you kept making your way for the drinks, hoping that you would loose him in the crowd or he would get too bored to mess with you. “don’t you have some hole to crawl back into?”

he laughed. “no, just wanted to see what the hell you’re doing here, y/n. this is my party, I thought I knew all the guests coming and I just saw you come in with potter and his lot.” you reached the table with the drinks and poured some firewhiskey into a disposable cup. 

draco finally reached you and stood across the table. he was wearing a typical black dress shirt and pants, his slytherin tie loosely fitted around his neck. in the back of your mind you thought about how good he looked, but the second that you thought it you wanted to punch yourself in the face for ever thinking something like that. especially about draco malfoy. 

“you don’t know everything about me,” you said to him, a tone of aggression lacing your words. “you know, im not that predictable.” 

“I beg to differ. you hang out with potter and his lot, you’re a high and mighty gryffindor, and you hate slytherins.” 

you laughed, downright laughed at his accusations, downing your drink and pouring yourself another. you could feel the alcohol burn in your throat and settle in your stomach. it wouldn’t take long before you started to feel the affects of it as well. “I don’t hate slytherins, I just hate you, malfoy,” you yelled over the shouting of peoples conversations. “see? you’re wrong.” 

“well then, what do you think of me?” draco asked. 

you walked up to him, setting down your drink and getting all up close and personal. you could feel his breath fanning onto your face as you leaned closer to meet his line of vision. “I think that . . .” you started, jabbing your finger into his chest, “that you’re an egotistical, obnoxious, slytherin prick. who pokes fun at people to get a rouse out of them just for your entertainment.” 

draco’s grey eyes stared into yours with an intensity you have never seen before. it made your knees feel weak as you stood up to him. “wow,” he said. “you really know how to party with all this psychology don’t you?” 

“oh, I know how to party,” you argued. 

draco cocked an eyebrow up. “really? show me then, come dance.” 

“why would I ever dance with you?” you asked. 

draco didn’t respond, only taking a shot of his drink and stretching a hand open for you to take it. a few moments passed by as you weighed your options. you could laugh in his face and leave, spill your drink on him and then leave . . . or you could take his offer. you weren’t sure if it was the alcohol about to take affect or if you were just feeling risky (probably both in the scheme of things), but you downed the rest of your tall drink and took his hand. 

he led you to the dance floor where most of the drunken kids were swaying to the beat of the loud music. the second you got a rhythm set up, you turned your back to him and swished your hips around. you couldn’t see his face, but he seemed to enjoy it because of his hands that rested on either side of you two seconds later. 

it felt good to finally let loose for a while, and if felt even better not trying to keep yourself together. it was easier tolerating draco than actually hating him. not to mention, as you wrapped your arms around his neck, he was looking even more hotter than he was a couple minutes ago. 

“what are you staring at?” he asked you, pulling you closer. 

you hummed. “nothing.”

draco opened his mouth to say something, but you cut him off by saying, “christ, you talk to much.” 

you pulled his face towards you and kissed him, long and hard. he tasted like firewhiskey and a hint of peppermint and his cologne tempted you in for more. the second you pulled away to take some air, he was pushing in for more. you happily obliged, turning the kiss into an open mouth one. it wasn’t just a normal kiss either, you wanted draco. hell, you felt like you needed draco. and it felt even more extreme because to everyone else, you hated him. but that wasn’t what you really felt for him. you didn’t know what your feelings were for draco. 

it took a little bit of convincing on his friends’ part to allow for draco to leave, but after finally getting him to pull away from the party, both of you spared no time to get out of the room of requirement. you guys practically ran to the dungeons to the slytherin common room, your hands reaching up to undo his tie and buttons while he put in the password. 

no one was in there because virtually every slytherin was at the party, so no one heard your giggles as he picked you up and led to you his dorm. you giggled all the way there, feeling your back hit his bed. 

“who would’ve known I would have y/n l/n in my bed,” draco muttered, helping you take off his shirt and throwing it to the opposite side of the room. 

you laughed, pulling up your shirt over your head and making it join his on the floor. “don’t take this the wrong way malfoy, but I still hate you.”

“we’ll see about that.” 

once both of you were properly in your undergarments, draco laid on top of you, his lips reattaching to yours in a searing kiss. his hands rubbed your sides up and down, gripping your skin. you could feel his cold rings on your skin and it made you crave him, feeling the heat between your thighs get even more intense. 

your hands reached down to push his boxers down, but draco’s met yours and swatted them away, putting them back on his back. at first you were going to pull him away to ask why, though you didn’t have the chance when one of his hands delved into the front of your panties. 

the second that his fingers hit your clit you were moaning into his mouth, pressing your hips up to meet his hand. you could hear him snicker a little bit, just a second ago you were saying you hated him and here he was making you keel into his touch. a second later he was kissing along your jawline, making his way down to your neck and sucking. “I can’t have hickeys, malfoy,” you said through shortened breaths. 

“too bad, princess,” draco said against your neck, pushing a finger into you and making a ‘come here’ motion with it. your back arched and you breathed in a sharp breath, screwing your eyes shut as he pushed in and out, eventually adding a second finger too. his wet kisses trailed all around your neck, stopping in a few places to give you some marks. 

the way that he was making you feel . . . it was surreal. it was making you feel like you were alive. even if it was just going to be for this moment, all you wanted to think about was draco malfoy. 

“fuck, draco,” you moaned, feeling his fingers hit just the right spot to make your toes clench. his thumb came up and pressed against your clit, which almost sent you over the edge. it was almost embarrassing at how easily he could make you come undone, but you were enjoying it too much to care. 

as soon as you were about to cum, his fingers pulled out of you, and he looked up at you to give you a devilish smirk. “not yet,” he said, giving you a kiss on the cheek and pulling his boxers down onto the floor. you took the time to look him over, seeing how hot he looked in the moment. his blonde hair was disheveled and his cheeks were a little red from the lack of air, and the second you looked down your eyes widened. he was big. probably the biggest you had ever had. 

“are you sure about this?” draco asked, stopping for a moment at what you two were about to do. you bit your lip, taking a few moments to take it all in. “because if you don’t, you don’t have to. . .”

you nodded, stopping what he was saying. “yes, I do.” you wrapped your arms around his neck and wrapped your legs around his waist. the second that he pushed into you, your eyes widened and an elongated moan came out from between your lips. draco also made a noise, which sounded so hot that you were sure would be etched into your brain for the days to come. 

he went at a steady pace, thrusting into you rhythmically with an intensity you had never felt before. of course he was good at this. “right there,” you said, back arching as his hands stayed pressed against your hips to keep you in place. 

you were already really close from his fingers, so it didn’t take you too long to get back into things. 

“you’re taking me so well,” draco said, going at a little bit of a faster pace. he rutted his hips against you that you knew that there would be marks there in the morning. he came down and kissed you again, his tongue pressing into yours and exploring your mouth. 

you gasped. “im not going to last much longer.” 

“then cum,” draco said, motioning his hips around in a circular motion. his hand also came down to play with your clit, which sent you right over the edge. your head came back as you moaned, riding out the rest of your orgasm. not even two thrusts later he was also coming undone, pulling out and doing it on your stomach. 

both of you stayed there with each other gasping for breath, your skin sticking to his from the sweat. draco finally got up and went to the bathroom that was connected to the room, coming back with a washcloth in his hand and pulling his boxers back up. he cleaned your stomach, throwing the cloth into a hamper with his clothes in it and laying down next to you again. 

you couldn’t believe that you had just fucked your sworn enemy. 

and you couldn’t believe that it was the best sex you had ever had in your entire life. 

fuck. 

“I should go,” you said to him, standing up and searching for your clothes on the floor. you put them on quickly, watching him sit up on his elbows and look at you. “if anyone sees me in here they’ll have a cow.” 

“is that the only reason? or because you hate me?” he put air quotes around ‘hate me’.

“fuck off malfoy,” you said, brushing out your hair with your fingers and going towards the door. 

you heard draco laugh. “I'll see you again, yeah?” 

you stopped in your tracks at his words, still facing the door. you could feel your knees quiver at the opportunity of doing this again with him. it was tempting, thats for sure. but you had to get your priorities straight before then. or find someone else, because it was draco malfoy. not just some random guy. 

“if you’re lucky, draco,” you said, opening the door and shutting it, leaving him in his dorm and going to make some excuse to your friends as to where you had been. 

[whenisitenoughtrees]

i picture it, soft, and i ache

He cannot love Patton.

But god, does he want to.

It doesn't take Janus very long to fall in love with Patton, when it comes down to it. It takes him far longer to accept it, and to allow it to grow.

Content Warning: brief, non-graphic depiction of a panic attack

(ao3 link)

(podfic by @titheinironside)

It’s unbelievable, how fast he falls.

He prides himself on his rationality, his pragmatism. He’s no Logan, of course, but it has been a very long time since he allowed his emotions to get in his way. Over the years, that has cost him so much-- his relationship with Virgil, his ability to trust and be trusted, any moral compass that he may once have possessed, among other things. But he has never regretted it, not once, because his primary directive is to help Thomas, and if he has to play the villain to do so, so be it. Lord knows none of the others see the world for what it is, are willing to do what it takes to ensure Thomas’ success.

But the scene is like this: time passes, Thomas begins to listen to him, and one day, Patton smiles. He doesn’t know at what, doesn’t know why, because he wasn’t paying attention until now, but Patton smiles, wide and bright, and in that moment, Janus would do anything for that smile to be directed at him.

In the next moment comes realization: oh.

In the next few days comes denial: no.

Because above all else, he knows himself, knows what he is built for and what he is not. He is not built for this love, all-encompassing and brilliant, not built for this depth of devotion. His very being is defined by his loyalty to Thomas and Thomas alone, his ability to use and discard the others at will as long as Thomas will benefit. He is a snake and a liar, cunning, selfish, cowardly, and he has spent his entire existence pushing away the possibility of anything else.

He cannot love Patton.

But god, does he want to. Patton burns like the brightest star in the sky, moves like the gentlest breeze on the warmest summer day, laughs like the freest dancer on the greenest field, and Janus is caught in his orbit, hopelessly entranced, hanging off his every word. The first time Patton touches him skin to skin, a graze against his forearm, causally, in passing, he has to excuse himself and stand in the center of his room for hours to catch his breath. His heart races too fast, and his entire arm feels as though it has been set alight, and all he wants is for it to happen again.

He is in too deep, sinking too quickly. He is at the bottom of the ocean, and even as the pressure of the water overhead crushes him, even as the darkness swallows him whole, he cannot bring himself to fight for the surface. If this is drowning, then he will drown and be grateful.

He cannot love Patton. But it is far, far too late for that.

“Wow,” Remus says, impressed against all odds. “You are a gay disaster.”

He groans. “I don’t know why I expected you to help me,” he mutters, and Remus shrugs, entirely unapologetic.

“You know I don’t do the whole romance thing,” he says. “Not my department. Have you tried, uh--” He scrunches his nose, and Janus knows that whatever comes out of his mouth next will be truly ridiculous-- “telling him, maybe? With, um, roses? That’s romantic shit, right? But you gotta take all the thorns off so that he doesn’t prick his thumb and blood doesn’t go spurting everywhere--”

“Please stop,” he groans, and that is the end of that.

Tell Patton. Absurd.

And he cannot tell anyone else. Cannot ask for help. He can tell Remus because he trusts Remus, to the extent that he trusts him to be exactly what he is, no more and no less, and Remus trusts him in the same way. But in general, trust is a foreign concept to him, once known but long lost, like returning to an old favorite book and realizing that the words have faded beyond all recognition.

But that’s alright. He is used to being alone. He has been alone for so long that he barely remembers what honest companionship feels like, and that is part of the problem, isn’t it? He has built so many walls around himself, walls that only he is ever allowed to breach, but here is Patton, waiting outside the gates and asking to be let in. Not demanding, not threatening; he brings no battering ram, no armies. Just himself, and his smile, and flowers in his hair, and that has more effect than twenty armies could.

He wants to open the gates. But the chains are rusted, the keys long lost, and that does not even take into account the danger of it, the danger of allowing himself to love another. Thomas is his priority, but what happens to him when that changes? What does he become? And what does that say about the worth of every action he has taken to lead him to this point?

Can he love? Is he capable of that unique vulnerability? He doesn’t think so. Love and trust go hand in hand, and if he cannot manage one, the other will evade him. He’s dancing a waltz meant for two on an empty stage, stumbling over his own feet because he has no one to catch him.

“You need to stay away from Patton,” Virgil tells him, eyes dark and clouded over with years of betrayal.

“Oh?” he asks. “Why is that?”

Virgil snorts, kicking away from the wall he’s leaning on. He approaches him slowly, deliberately, and the threads that hold Janus in place are invisible, intangible, but there all the same. A spiderweb capable of holding a serpent fast.

“Don’t think I don’t see the way you look at him,” Virgil says, and fear lands heavily in his chest. “I know everyone’s all eager to accept you and have you around these days, but I know what you are. Whatever you’re planning, leave him out of it.”

“Ah, yes,” he replies. “You know what I am, just as I know what you are, Virgil. I wouldn’t throw stones.” He pauses. The words fall from his lips bitter-sharp, and he doesn’t want to be saying them, not like this, but it’s a habit formed from years. There was a time when they were happy, once, but they spoiled each other, and nothing is left of that shared past but a handful of wilted promises and bridges burned beyond repair.

Virgil snorts and shoves past him.

“Out of curiosity,” he says, and Virgil stops, “how do I look at him?”

Virgil turns and stares. “What?” he demands, and Janus knows that it was a mistake.

“Nevermind,” he says, and moves to walk away, but Virgil grabs his arm, hard enough to bruise, and holds him in place. For a minute, he says nothing at all, and Janus is left to search his face, the anger in the tightness of his lips and bewilderment in the tilt of his head.

Then, realization dawns, and Janus wants to be anywhere but here.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me,” Virgil says. “You… I can’t believe you.”

“I don’t know what you mean,” he says, tightly, coolly. 

Virgil laughs, and it’s the sound of a predator pouncing. “Yeah?” he challenges. “I don’t give a damn what you feel, or what you think you feel. You’re a fucking liar, and a fucking liar is all you’ll ever be. You’re not capable of giving him what he deserves.”

They are standing so close to each other, a distance of inches, but he has never felt farther away from him. What they once had is lost, but in the space between breaths, he allows himself to mourn its death, hating himself for the weakness all the while.

“I know,” he says.

Virgil scowls, dire warning in the shadows on his face, and releases him, stomping away. Janus watches him go, and he aches.

A moment later, Patton pokes his head around the corner.

“Is everything okay?” he asks, eyes pinched with concern. “I thought I heard arguing.”

I want to kiss you, he doesn’t say. I want you to hold me and never let go, he doesn’t say. I want to love you, and I want you to love me, please, would you love me? he doesn’t say.

“It was nothing,” he says. “We’ve sorted it.”

Patton doesn’t seem convinced, but he lets it be. Janus watches him go, and he aches.

No one ever told him that love would hurt. He supposes he should have guessed it. Nothing that is worth having ever comes easily, and even though his breath catches every time Patton walks into a room, even though his heart tries to burst from his chest every time Patton deigns to glance his way, he doesn’t think he would trade this for anything. He can barely remember a time before this, before this love crawled into his chest and took up residence.

He takes whatever Patton will give him, laps up the crumbs like a starving dog. He accepts every offer of dinner, every invitation to watch a movie or play a game, even though all the rest of them barely tolerate him at best and openly hate him at worst. He’ll endure Virgil’s scorn, Roman’s enmity, Logan’s dismissal, as long as it means he can stay by Patton’s side. And Patton, at least, seems to like that he’s there, and most of him screams that it can’t be trusted, that there must be an ulterior motive, because that is the way he has thought about other people for nearly three decades and it’s so hard to try to change that. But he also knows that Patton doesn’t work that way. No matter how foolish it may be, he is genuine and true. Everything that Janus is not.

He entices smiles from him, teases laughter, and rejoices in the fact that it is him that draws these responses. It is all he will ever have, all he will ever be brave enough to take, and it is more than enough, more than he ever expected he could receive.

He cannot love Patton. But he does.

Roman corners him one day, and he lets him, because he has no idea why Roman of all people would seek him out. Things are better between them, but not by much, and Roman himself is still fragile in an odd way, as if saying the wrong thing one more time will prompt a total collapse. Janus has wanted many things from Remus’ twin, but never that.

“I can’t believe I’m saying this,” Roman says, through gritted teeth. “But, you and Patton.”

He blinks, taken aback. He told Remus, but Remus wouldn’t tell Roman. Virgil figured him out, but even after everything, Virgil still knows him well enough to read him, so that is no shock. Roman, though, barely manages to make eye contact with him on a good day, so he couldn’t, shouldn’t know, unless he is being far more obvious than he thought he was. That thought alone is enough to send an icy tendril of fear down his spine.

“What about me and Patton?” he asks, and hopes that his voice doesn’t shake.

Roman sighs, and his next sentence comes out as if it takes him a great effort to say. “Look, you make him happy, alright?” he states. “I don’t get it, and mostly, I’m scared that you’re just manipulating him, but for some ungodly reason, he actually likes having you around. So what I’m here to say is that if you hurt him, if this all turns out to be for some kind of scheme of yours, I will stab you through the heart and leave you pinned to the ground for the crows to eat. Do you understand me?”

His mouth goes dry. “Perfectly,” he rasps.

Roman looks at him, and then nods. He walks away without a sound, and Janus tries in vain to steady his nerves.

What was that?

You make him happy.

You. Make him. Happy.

Happy happy happy.

His face feels odd. He brings a gloved hand up to feel his cheek, and he realizes he’s smiling, wide and unrestrained like he hasn’t in years.

He makes Patton happy. He makes Patton happy.

He makes Patton happy.

He doesn’t know why, doesn’t know what he does. He can coax out smiles with a bit of smooth talk, bring out laughter with a well-placed pun, but those are both momentary, fleeting things. The idea that he makes Patton happy implies something that goes far beyond moments, implies a lasting fondness and a desire for his company, and he doesn’t know why. He doesn’t know why, and that is a problem, because if he doesn’t know why, he doesn’t know to keep doing it.

Eventually, he works up the courage to ask, and Patton stops in the middle of rolling out his cookie dough.

“Why do I like to hang out with you?” he repeats. His eyes are very blue behind his glasses, like the vastest sky. “It’s because you’re you, silly.” He grins, bubbly and vivacious, and dabs a bit of flour on Janus’ nose. He sticks out his tongue instinctively, and Patton coos at what he calls a ‘blep’ and what Janus calls ‘something that he will deny ever happening so please stop bringing it up.’

“Besides,” Patton adds, more thoughtfully, “we’ve spent so long not being friends, and that was mostly on me. Now that I know how great you are, I don’t want to waste any more time. You’ve been trying so hard all along, and I couldn’t see that.” He grabs Janus’ hand, and he has to stifle a gasp. He can feel the human side of his face heating up, and hopes against all hope that Patton will not notice what must be an obvious blush. “I want to know you better now.”

“Oh,” is all he can say, all he can squeak out between teeth that are too tightly clenched. Even through his glove, Patton’s hand is so very warm, and his hand is tingling at his touch. “Um, I suppose I want to know you better, too,” he adds, stumbling his way through sincerity, and it must be the right answer, because Patton beams.

It’s like standing in sunlight, squinting up at a cloudless sky, in a instant of warmth and light that will last forever. Night will never fall and rain will never come down, and the sun will burn bright until the end of time, and so will he.

That evening, he has a panic attack in Logan’s room.

It starts in the hallway and comes out of nowhere; one moment he is walking to his room, and the next, he is leaning on the wall for support, doubled over and gasping for breath for no reason that he can see. But he happens to be standing near Logan’s door, and he must be loud enough for him to take notice, to come out and lead him somewhere safer, less exposed. He would be more grateful, if his lungs would cooperate.

Logan counts and measures his own breaths, and eventually, he finds himself able to follow the rhythm. He is shaking and sweating and crying just a bit, but the panic eases little by little, leaving him pressed up against the wall, Logan sitting nearby but not touching. He is familiar with the motions; he walked through them for Virgil, once upon a time. He has never been on the receiving end.

“Would you like to discuss it?” Logan asks, when he no longer feels as though his lungs are being constricted by iron bands.

He contemplates what triggered it. He thinks it was nothing in particular, really, nothing but a sudden sensation of being overwhelmed by everything all at once, his feelings and the endless possibilities open before him, a looming, uncertain future. It is as though he is walking a tightrope over a precipice, and the slightest mistake will send him tumbling into darkness. The thought makes his chest clench up again, and he breathes out slowly and deliberately.

“Not particularly,” he manages, and Logan accepts the answer with a nod.

“Very well,” he says, standing and walking to his desk, where he sits down and opens his laptop. “You are welcome to remain here for as long as you would like.”

He considers the offer. It’s far more generous than he expected. He didn’t think that Logan liked him very much. And it’s a nice room. Calming. There are stars painted on the ceiling, an accurate representation of the night sky bathing the room in a soft white glow.

“Thank you,” he says, and for a long while, the two of them sit in silence, Logan typing at his laptop and Janus just breathing, existing. He appreciates it, this comfortable silence, carrying no demands or expectations.

Could Logan help him, he wonders? Perhaps not; Logan barely ever bothers to recognize his own emotions, much less those of someone else. But then, Logan is calm and rational and most importantly, capable of respecting privacy, and perhaps that is just what he needs.

He needs something, of that, he is certain. Panic attacks are a new development, and not one that he wants to continue.

“Logan,” he says, “may I ask you a question?”

Logan swivels in his chair to face him. “You just did,” he points out, “but yes, go ahead.”

He takes a deep breath.

“What is love? If you had to define it, that is.”

He tries to keep his voice level, to reveal none of the importance that the question holds. It is the most open he has been about the subject, besides ranting to Remus, and he trusts Remus in a way that he has not learned to apply to anyone else. But he needs to know, needs to understand, and Logan is his best option for a definition. He will answer, and he will not push. Emotions are not his department.

Logan frowns at him, eyes oddly piercing. “I may not be the best side to go to if you are experiencing difficulties with this matter,” he says. “However, scientifically speaking, love is the emotion produced when certain neurochemicals, such as oxytocin, are released in the brain. I do not generally concern myself with the intricacies of the topic. Emotions are hardly my area of expertise.”

Janus sighs, leaning his head back against the wall. It is just about the answer he was expecting. He’s not sure that it helps. He doesn’t think he can reduce his feelings to chemicals. Not when he thinks he would do anything to keep Patton happy, save putting Thomas at risk.

“Is… there anything else I can answer for you?” Logan asks, and Janus meets his gaze. He seems oddly hesitant, and Janus is certain that he has overplayed his hand, but he is too exhausted to regret the decision. Something needs to give, something needs to change. 

“No, that’s all,” he says. He makes no move to leave, though, content enough to linger in a place that sets order amongst his disordered thoughts, realigns the nonsense into reason. 

“I am no expert,” Logan says, “so you are certainly free to disregard this advice, but I have been informed that… discussing one’s emotions with their object tends to be helpful in alleviating stress, if nothing else.” He is floundering, grasping at straws, but the clumsy attempt at help is genuine, and rather than annoyed, Janus finds himself endeared.

“Thank you,” he says, smiling slightly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

And he does. Oh, how he does. Once considered, the possibility won’t leave him alone. He watches Patton, spends time with Patton, and wonders what would change if he let the words slip past his lips.

The trust that Patton has extended him is extraordinary. No one has ever looked at him like Patton does, like he cares about him because he is himself and not because of the function he provides. Patton uses his name so easily, like it means nothing, and he knows that names do not have the same significance to those in the light as they do to those in the dark, but he still feels a thrill every time he hears it, because Patton was the first to use it. Was the first to accept the hand that Janus offered, in desperation and the burning need to be heard for Thomas’ sake.

He threw himself off a cliff with only the impossible hope that someone would catch him. And Patton did. Janus can’t go back to the way things were before. He won’t risk losing all that he has gained. And if that is selfish, well. That much is expected of him.

“Do you wanna help me cook dinner tonight?” Patton asks.

He’s in the common room. It’s still a novelty, the ability to be here. Depending on who sees him, he garners the odd distrustful glance, but no one ever demands he leave. It’s refreshing, and more than a little delightful, not that he would ever admit it.

He shrugs. “Absolutely not,” he says, rising. “I despise cooking. Why would you even ask that?”

Weeks and months ago, that would cause Patton to withdraw, would send hurt flashing across his face.

Weeks and months ago, Patton wouldn’t have asked at all.

But now, Patton giggles. “Great,” he says, and from anyone else, Janus would take that to be sarcasm, but as always, Patton means it. He always means it, when he says these things.

Janus follows him into the kitchen, staring at his back and thinking about how different they are. How Patton is good and he… is not. It’s an oversimplification, of course; he knows that very well, better than anyone else, knows that morality is relative and painted in swatches of grey, but still. It never used to bother him.

Patton is making a stir fry, evidently, a new recipe, and sets Janus to preparing the rice as he chops vegetables. He chatters on about everything and nothing, about a dog that Thomas saw yesterday, about the cute barista that Thomas managed to hold a coherent conversation with, about how he managed to beat Logan in Scrabble the other day to everybody’s shock, how he thinks he’s almost got Roman convinced to take him on a quest in the Imagination. A lot of it, Janus already knows, but he is happy to listen to Patton talk, interjecting with dry comments at appropriate times to draw out a laugh or teasing scolding or an exaggerated gasp and a swat at his arm.

And all the time, Patton smiles. Brightly and genuinely.

He’s so caught up in it that he almost doesn’t catch the slip in time, almost doesn’t see Patton’s knife waver too close to his finger as he relates his adventures with a puppy that Roman conjured for him (“--and it almost peed on Logan but I stopped it before it could. Logan still wasn’t happy, though--”). But he does, and his hand darts out to grip Patton’s wrist, halting the knife’s motion before he can give himself a nasty cut.

“Careful,” he murmurs.

“Oh!” Patton says. “Thanks, Janus.” He laughs. “Guess I wasn’t being sharp enough.”

He smiles at the pun, and for a second, he lingers, feeling Patton’s wrist under his fingers. He’s wearing his gloves, but the warmth shoots up his arm regardless.

Then, he realizes that Patton’s face is red.

Ah. He’s made him uncomfortable.

“Apologies,” he says, and pulls back. He expects the incident to fade into the background, forgotten, expects them both to move on without comment.

He doesn’t expect Patton to drop the knife on the cutting board and take his hand in his.

Janus stares. Patton’s face is still red, red like a tomato, and he refuses to make eye contact. Janus feels like he’s frozen, feels like his heartbeat must be audible to the entire Mindscape and probably Thomas too, feels like he wants to run and feels like he never wants to let go.

What is happening?

“You don’t need to apologize to me,” Patton says. He looks at him, finally, and his blue eyes are shining with an emotion that Janus dares not name.

He opens his mouth to reply, but his throat is dry. He clears it, several times, and he wants the ground to swallow him a bit, because surely his infatuation is obvious, is written all across his face. Surely, Patton will see it now, will release his hand and let him down gently, kindly, because that is the type of person that Patton is. Gentle, kind, someone that he loves helplessly and hopelessly and will continue to love until the stars go dark.

“I’ve been thinking,” Patton says softly. “Could I hug you?”

He is wordless, powerless, breathless. He nods. Patton releases his hand, but he only has a moment to mourn the loss of contact before Patton’s arms are wrapped around him, before he is tugged against Patton’s chest, held tight and safe and close, and it is as though every nerve has been lit on fire. He gasps, and his own arms latch onto Patton’s back and do not let go. It is an effort to keep it down to only one pair.

He is so warm. He doesn’t think he has ever been this warm. Even half a dozen heat lamps couldn’t compare to this, this heat and this pressure and this security.

He is trembling, too, and hopes that Patton doesn’t notice.

“I realized that I hadn’t ever done it,” Patton says. “I didn’t know if you would want me to, or if you would like it? But I wanted to see. Are you… you’re shaking, are you okay?”

He moves as if to pull away. Janus doesn’t let him.

“Please don’t let me go,” he rasps. It is too raw, too vulnerable, too honest, and it gives far too much away. And it’s selfish, too, wanting to take so much of his attention, his affections, when he cannot possibly feel the same way that Janus does.

But he doesn’t care.

“Oh,” Patton says, something new in his voice, something like surprise but not quite, and Janus can’t place it but he doesn’t care as long as Patton will keep holding him, because this is all he’s ever wanted, even if it can’t last. “Oh. Oh, honey, I won’t. I won’t, I promise. I won’t let you go.”

Janus buries his face in Patton’s shoulder. Patton rubs soothing circles into his back, and he thinks he could melt.

“You wanna tell me what’s wrong, sweetheart?” Patton murmurs.

He was never built for this love, never built to hold it. Against all odds, he has, though, has held it and nurtured it and allowed it to grow. And perhaps that means that he is not what he has spent so long thinking that he is, that perhaps he can be more. He has held this love and now it is spilling over, seeing the light for the first time, and perhaps the light will reveal it to be ugly and twisted and dark, but he will take the risk if it means he can touch the sun.

“I’m not meant for this,” he says softly, and Patton hums.

“Not meant for what?”

“Caring.”

His voice breaks. Patton makes a small, choked sound and steps back. Janus is forced to let him go, and already, his body is yearning for the contact again. There is only a foot or so between them, but it might as well be the Grand Canyon.

Is this where it ends? Has he broken their friendship?

God, he’s become so melodramatic.

But no, Patton reaches out, caresses his face, caresses the left side of his face, his hand cupping his scaled cheek as if it’s no different from human skin, and Janus feels as though the ground has dropped out from under him because no one, no one has ever touched him there, like this.

“You deserve all the care in the world,” Patton tells him fiercely, passionately, and… he meant it the other way around, meant that he’s not built for caring about others, but to see Patton like this, so determined to defend him even from himself…

Janus kisses him. His lips are as soft as he always imagined they would be. 

He only gives himself a moment before drawing away. Patton is staring at him, face slack with shock.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers. His lips are tingling, his body on fire, his emotions bared, and he can’t stand it.

He isn’t built for this, and surely, Patton can see that.

But then, Patton steps closer.

“You don’t need,” Patton says, “to apologize to me.”

And Patton kisses him. Gently, but insistently, asking for an answer but not demanding. And it takes a few seconds, a few long seconds in which he comprehends nothing and too much all at once, can barely wrap his head around the concept of Patton kissing him, but he answers. Answers, and answers, and answers. Answers, and pours everything he has, everything he is into the answering.

They pull back, eventually, and Janus opens his eyes. Patton’s lips are red and swollen, his eyes bright.

“Not unless you didn’t mean it,” Patton says, and it takes him a moment to figure out what he’s talking about.

“I don’t think I’ve ever meant anything more in my life,” he replies, and swallows. “It terrifies me.”

The honesty is excruciating. Is this what love does?

He already knows the answer to that.

“Then let’s be scared together,” Patton says. He reaches out and takes Janus’ hands in his, intertwining their fingers. His yellow gloves stand out against Patton’s skin, and for the first time in a long time, he wants to remove them, to take them off and have skin to skin contact, regardless of the vulnerability that will bring. Not tonight, maybe, but soon?

Patton kissed him.

“That is,” Patton says, “if you want to.” He pauses, and when he speaks again, his voice is even lower, even softer than before. “I really, really like you, Janus.”

He looks at him. Really looks. Patton is nervous, fidgeting, unsure of his answer despite the fact that Janus kissed him first, despite the fact that Janus has been pining, has been burning so long that he has forgotten how not to. But his words ring clear with honesty, and Janus doesn’t think he has ever been this happy, nor this scared.

He can love Patton. All he has to do is say yes.

“Not at all,” he lies. “Why would I?”

And he tugs Patton back in. The kiss is tender, sweet, and Janus doesn’t know how to do this, doesn’t know how to allow another in, doesn’t know how to open up, to trust, to let himself love unabashedly and without restraint. For Patton, though, he is willing to do anything, anything at all. It’s a waltz meant for two, and perhaps the stage isn’t so empty after all.

Against his lips, Patton is smiling at him. So, he smiles back.

He can love Patton, and Patton can love him, and maybe, just maybe, he can believe that everything is going to be alright.

[hellpark]

GREGORY: Oh my, seems Craig’s little online army doesn’t have a care at all that I’ve taken command of his weblog.

GREGORY: Estella, there are people who are actually curious about the true side of things, would you believe that?

ESTELLA: Are you really fiddling around with that stupid thing over there?

ESTELLA: Of course you couldn’t hold back from sating your bloated ego, you needed electronic strangers to help inflate it even further, you limp, detached and wounded tail of a diseased lizard.

GREGORY: Goodness, there are questions regarding both you and I, you know.

GREGORY: I haven’t so much as talked about myself at all, mind you.

ESTELLA: Why are there people attempting to talk to me through that device.

ESTELLA: Are you truly so stupid as to inform everybody of our whereabouts?

GREGORY: Heavens, no.

GREGORY: Just having some fun, is all.

GREGORY: You should join me with this one, spare yourself a moment why don’t you.

ESTELLA: Ugh, if it will get you off my back, fine.

GREGORY: Now this one asks what our impression of each of those incessant dullards Craig calls friends is.

ESTELLA: All of them are as stale and boring as a long forgotten water biscuit fallen beneath a dumpster.

GREGORY: Right you are.

ESTELLA: Can I get back to what I was doing, now?

GREGORY: Not quite, I think I’d fancy tearing down the walls of each individual here.

GREGORY: It’s only fair that these curious strangers get their just earful.

ESTELLA: [sigh]

ESTELLA: If you insist.

GREGORY: I suppose we might as well start with the most likely focus of interest, the original owner of this log.

GREGORY: Craig.

GREGORY: You know originally, I didn’t have all too much of an issue with this brain dead husk of a man.

GREGORY: I told him.

GREGORY: If he doesn’t fuck with me, I would have no qualms against him.

ESTELLA: And yet here you are, still plucking splinters from the backside of your head.

GREGORY: I could tell he was going to be a problem from the start, I just figured he’d be too slow and careless to be much of an actual threat.

ESTELLA: I’d almost say it’s adorable how angry you are over such a nuisance of a boy; But you’re far too revolting to ever be adorable, so I will just say it’s amusing.

GREGORY: ...

GREGORY: I don’t like him.

GREGORY: I’ll leave it at that.

ESTELLA: I couldn’t care less for that gelatinous clump of blue ink.

GREGORY: I suppose next would be his subordinate friend-- Clyde, is it?

GREGORY: The one you stupidly chose to take control of.

GREGORY: Over just about any other candidate.

ESTELLA: I do not need to be reminded.

ESTELLA: He was simply the most emotionally compromised at the time.

GREGORY: It’s become clear that’s just how he always is.

ESTELLA: You sure took your oh so pleasant time getting me out of that putrid cauldron of body odor and unpleasantly placed hair.

ESTELLA: He’s quite revolting when he’s all alone, do you know this?

GREGORY: Do you mean... more so than you find other men to be, or...

ESTELLA: Yes, I do mean more so.

ESTELLA: You have no idea the things I had to sit through with that horrid, small manhooded caveman.

GREGORY: I’m sure.

GREGORY: I have no real feelings towards him either way, though he seems a little too keen on Tweek for my liking.

GREGORY: Or, I should say, Tweek seems a little too trusting of him.

GREGORY: So in turn, I am not too fond of him, either.

GREGORY: Now, the one I find the most tolerable of the bunch is certainly Token.

GREGORY: I remember him well from when I was still alive.

GREGORY: Truly, if there were anybody to rival Wendy and I’s intellectual abilities together, it would be him.

ESTELLA: Well, he did throw all of us under the bus by telling Damien exactly what we’ve been up to on the surface, so I do not think I can possibly see him in the same light as you.

GREGORY: Oh, well I suppose there is that.

ESTELLA: Other than that, I find him a rather boring, simple minded individual.

ESTELLA: He could die the most foul and upsetting death imaginable, and I would not think any different of him-- same goes for the rest of those boys.

GREGORY: Mm, well, I still think I find him the most bearable of the bunch.

ESTELLA: If you say so, you blood-drunk man loving tick.

ESTELLA: Let’s talk about the best of the bunch, why don’t we?

GREGORY: Oh? Do you suddenly have a favorite?

ESTELLA: Why yes I do.

ESTELLA: Stan, of course.

GREGORY: Oh. Him.

GREGORY: That thick-headed, good for nothing drain on society...

GREGORY: That’s who your favorite is?

ESTELLA: Yes indeed.

ESTELLA: I just love it when the real you comes out.

ESTELLA: Look at you now. Can’t help your horns from showing, you’re just so upset that anybody could possibly like that van-hit skunk.

ESTELLA: As if I’d actually enjoy him any more than the other bloody idiots.

GREGORY: There are few people more deserving of hell than Stan Marsh.

ESTELLA: I could think of many, but if you take such offense to your own personal death, I won’t stop you from thinking of that.

ESTELLA: My, you’re so much more pleasant to be around when you’re angry...

ESTELLA: My opinion of him is rather neutral, but he’s a man so there isn’t much about him that’s favorable anyways.

GREGORY: Let’s talk about his counterpart instead.

ESTELLA: And who would that be?

GREGORY: Kyle.

GREGORY: The bloke with the ugly green ushanka.

ESTELLA: Oh, that collapsed anal cavity of a sewer rat.

ESTELLA: The opinionated one who thinks his insufferably bland words actually matter.

ESTELLA: Rather rich, but that’s all I can give him.

GREGORY: He’s always thought of himself as some sort of martyr of first world problems.

GREGORY: I’m sure if he wasn’t so full of himself he’d be less of a drain to talk to.

ESTELLA: Funny, that’s how I feel about you.

ESTELLA: You’re really just describing yourself, you know.

GREGORY: When I fight for justice, I’m not doing it to make myself feel good.

GREGORY: I do it for those who cannot take action themselves.

ESTELLA: Oh, I’m sure you love to tell yourself that.

GREGORY: Speaking of selfish drains...

GREGORY: It truly shows how utterly stupid all of Stan’s friends are, still hanging around that tub of lard Eric.

ESTELLA: He didn’t really speak much while I was around, so all he is to me is another worthless sausage on a rusted old pan.

GREGORY: All I saw was that he still looks like he’s 10, and certainly still sounds like it.

ESTELLA: Smells like it, too.

GREGORY: I never did like the boy, he completely ruined an entire covert operation, you know?

GREGORY: Directly caused the death of a fellow comrade.

GREGORY: Of course we were all turned back before the war, thus nullifying all of our actions henceforth, but it still stands that the old paranoid fool he killed never quite was the same.

ESTELLA: Oh, let’s not start this conversation again.

ESTELLA: You talked my ear off for days on end the last time I decided to indulge in your simplistic babblings of self-perceived hardship.

GREGORY: Though who I find most interesting throughout all of what we went through was who really saved us all in the end.

GREGORY: I hadn’t seen all too much of him beforehand, yet he sacrificed himself for the entire town over in the end.

GREGORY: That Kenny fellow...

GREGORY: You know, despite spiking me over the head with that lawn ornament earlier, I don’t really have too harsh a thought on him.

GREGORY: I blame Tweek and Thomas for not warning me more than anything, really.

GREGORY: There’s something about him that seemed all too familiar, though, even as a young adult now...

ESTELLA: I am taking advantage of the fact that you look like you’re lost in your tiny, hollowed out peanut shell of a brain to say that I am leaving now.

ESTELLA: There are better things to attend to.

GREGORY: I can’t even remember how he came back from the dead, he just appeared one day, good as new.

GREGORY: I never knew the original ruler of hell personally, only his son of course, but perhaps there was some sort of additional deal made for him to return to the land of the living once more?

GREGORY: Honestly, this perplexes me severely now that I think about it, and I can’t believe I’ve not thought about it more until now.

GREGORY: Needless to say, this one’s an interesting individual, to say the least.

GREGORY: Definitely not one I’d think to trust any time soon, however. He’s far too... suspicious of a person...

GREGORY: Hmm...

GREGORY: Well-- that’s all of them I suppose.

GREGORY: Though, hmm...

GREGORY: I could have sworn Craig’s friends had one more on their team...?

GREGORY: I wonder where they could be in all of this mess.

GREGORY: ...These are quite fun, I think I may indulge myself in a few more...

[a-ghostlight-for-roman]

how to never stop being sad

Summary: Following his brother's acceptance, Roman's life felt like it was falling apart. His family was turning against him, that awful snake was being allowed in their home, and worst of all, he still couldn't seem to do anything right, no matter how hard he tried.

How does he choose to deal with it?

Not in a good way, that's for sure.

Warnings: Gore/Death/Violence (none actually occur but it is described), food mention, cursing

AO3 link

Chapter 1

Repeat to yourself that they’re not really gone

Time has proven

That fooling yourself into believing a lie

Is the most effective way

To deal with things you have no control over

Roman was fine. Completely 100% percent, absolutely fine, and he would tolerate no thinking to the contrary. Things were abnormal, sure, but he was coping. Maybe he felt a bit (a lot) guilty for letting things in the Mindscape get so bad, but it’s okay! He’s managing! Maybe he’s surrounded by people that barely tolerate him now, but he’ll fix it!

...eventually.

Right now, though, he’s in his room. Alone, as is usual these days. Usually, he’d ask Patton or Virgil to hang out with him, but after the last video, things were… Tense, to say the least. 

Patton wasn’t mad at him, of course; he wasn’t ever truly mad at any of them. However, Roman would have to be stupid not to notice the disappointed looks Patton gave him when he thought he wasn’t looking or the way that after Roman left the room, he always made a point to talk to Janus afterwards, as if he needed special attention just for enduring Roman’s presence.

Things were a little better with Virgil, but he was frustrated with Roman for tolerating Janus’ presence at all. Despite his obvious vitriol towards him, he still outright refused to talk about what exactly Janus had ever done to him. So Roman was forced to choose between Patton, his father figure who’d never meant to do him wrong (who had acted like Roman was unreasonable for sticking to the very moral rule set that Patton had imposed on him since they were children), or Virgil, who Roman had been wrong in not listening to before, & who was obviously extremely hurt and betrayed by both Janus, and now his own family.

He still hadn’t quite been able to choose, straddling the line between adhering to Patton’s kindness policy towards Janus and respecting Virgil’s feelings. It didn’t really work-- rather, it just seemed to leave them both dissatisfied. Roman could hardly stand it.

...but it’s fine. Really. It’ll blow over eventually. He isn’t quite sure how, exactly, but things always turn out alright in the end, right? There’s always a happy ending.

Except when there isn’t, but… bad endings only happen in Remus’ stories, & he doesn’t have power here in the Mindscape.

...except he sorta does, now. After his video, he’d (albeit reluctantly) been accepted. His ideas were considered, even valued, now. Sometimes, he was even chosen over Roman. Not only by Thomas, but also by the other sides, at times; Logan may think he’s slick, but Roman’s seen him specifically request his brother’s assistance in the Imagination, in the living room, in the archives, in his room- It made Roman sick to think about, and whenever he walked through the house, he could see evidence of his brother’s influence littered throughout. For the life of him, he couldn’t understand the appeal. When had society fallen so far as to value a duke more than a prince?

---

Roman hadn’t thought he’d been in his room for long; he’d only meant to duck in to get a breather after having to endure Remus’ maniacal ramblings for nearly half an hour, but it seemed he’d been brooding long enough to attract Logan’s concern. He heard a knock at his door and broke out of his haze, looking towards it.

“I apologize for bothering you Roman, but I was wanting to inquire whether you were alright. It’s been an hour,” Logan said. Had Roman really been away for that long? No wonder Logan was checking on him.

“Yeah, Specs- Sorry. I’ll be out in a minute, just finishing a project,” he lied. Logan was so cold, calm, rational- Surely he would look down on Roman’s groveling simply because he couldn't deal with his brother for more than a few minutes. As much as Roman was full of himself and proud of his work, he thought if Logan talked down to him, he’d break down and cry.

“We’re currently 'hanging out' in the common room. You’re welcome to join whenever you finish. I look forward to hearing about what you’ve been working on.” Roman could hear his footsteps slowly grow farther from the door.

Shit. Now Logan thought he’d been working on something, so now he had to do something-- he couldn't just show up empty-handed. They’d see through his lies in an instant. He’d be just as bad as Janus, imagine what Virgil would think--

He took a steadying breath. Okay, yeah, he’d lied, but that wasn’t so awful, he just had to make it right. He just had to make something, and that shouldn’t be so hard, right? That’s his job! He’ll just think of something real quick, and it’ll be done in a jiffy, and then it won’t be a lie anymore, and on top of that, he’ll have something to talk about! Talking parts were hard to come by sometimes when you had to find something that would include the two people you hate most, your former-enemy-turned-best-friend, your dad and your colleague (as he insisted to be called), but everyone was always eager to hear his new ideas, so this would be perfect.

---

It was nothing special, but it would do. He hadn’t had the time or energy to think of a concept for a whole scripted video, so instead, he’d written the next Shoutout Sunday. Simple, but it had to be done, and it was already Friday, anyways. He closed his notebook, and stood up, keeping it under his arm. He never knew when inspiration would strike, so he tried to carry it with him whenever possible. He opened his door and stepped out from his room, making his way down the hallway past the multicolored doors of the other sides, pointedly avoiding looking at Janus’ signature black and yellow-colored door. Out of sight, out of mind.

As he walked into the commons, the conversations faltered for a moment, but everyone quickly returned to what they were doing. Remus was noticeably absent; Patton and Virgil were curled up on the couch, sharing a blanket between them and speaking in excited whispers; and Logan and Janus were speaking across the counter separating the living room and the kitchen while Logan made dinner on the stove and Janus leaned with his hands crossed under his chin. 

Roman lingered by the stairs for a moment, caught off guard by the lack of greeting, but continued to the side of the couch not occupied by Patton and Virgil. He’d hoped to share his script with Logan, but he was busy at the moment, and he so rarely was this casual with the others; Roman figured it better to let him be for the time being. He pulled his notebook from under his arm and summoned a pencil from his desk. If he couldn’t share his idea, he might as well get started on the next.

He spent around five minutes doodling a new creature to introduce into the Imagination when Logan finally seemed to notice he was there.

“Ah, Roman! Apologies, I hadn’t noticed you were here. What was the idea you were working on?” he asked. He turned off the stove and fully turned to Roman, looking past Janus. Roman was almost ashamed to say he felt a certain degree of satisfaction that Logan had put aside his conversation with Janus in favor of speaking with him. Keyword being "almost."

“Well, it is a most illustrious, melodic creation--” Roman sunk down from the living room and rose into the kitchen, laid his now open notebook on the counter, and gestured towards it with a bow-- “Behold, the newest Shoutout Sunday!” He smiled and rose from his position, bouncing on his feet a bit as Logan rested his chin on his hand, looking thoughtful, and read it. Logan gave a slight, satisfied smile.

“So you’ve worked ahead of schedule, then. Wonderful! Good work, Roman."

“I know,” Roman replied, beaming, “I shall have a new idea by the morn-- perhaps I can even start the next video script!”

“So long as you do not burn yourself out, Roman. Otherwise, I look forward to your next contribution.” Logan closed Roman’s notebook, handed it back to him, and then opened a cabinet, gathering bowls for… Whatever healthy monstrosity was in the pot on the stove. Roman could only guess what it was. Some sort of soup, maybe? “Will you be joining us for dinner tonight, Roman?”

“I’m afraid there are simply too many ideas and too little time, I must return to my work!” Roman replied. Janus narrowed his eyes at him from across the counter.

“I wouldn’t be witnessing any self-neglect right now, would I, Roman?” his voice dripped, cool and patronizing. It carried a lilt of care, but it was clearly faked-- Patton would have scolded him if he’d been listening. Roman rolled his eyes.

“No, I am simply dedicated to my craft! Creations don’t come from thin air, do they?” he replied. Logan tilted his head, brows furrowed.

“...They do,” he said. He raised his palm, and atop it, a paper appeared. “As you can clearly see, I’ve just summoned this piece of paper- Now, it’s not on par with many of your creations, of course, but I’m sure you understand my point. Just last week, you summoned me a new Rubik’s Cube. Don’t you remember?”

Virgil snorted from across the room, and Roman sighed. “Yes, Specs, I- I remember. I meant that metaphorically.”

“That was not a metaphor. According to Oxford Languages Dictionary, a metaphor is 'a figure of speech in which a word or phrase is applied to an object or action to which it is not literally applicable.' Would you like an example?”

“Not now, Logan. I’ll be taking my leave-”

“Aw,” Patton interrupted, “why not stay? You’ve spent so much time up in your room- Now, I know sometimes we need our alone time, but spending some time with your famILY won’t kill ya!”

“Did someone say kill?” came Remus’ shrill, excited voice from by the lamp where he’d just appeared.

“Not that kind of kill!” Patton rushed, “there will be absolutely no killing on my watch, mister!” Remus put his hands on his hips and blew a raspberry at that, exaggeratedly pouting at him.

“You’re no fun,” he replied. “Nothing wrong with a little casual murder to pass the time! Everyone dies sometime, might as well make it exciting.” Patton grimaced as Virgil’s eyes went wide and he groaned.

“...Everyone dies sometime. We are going to die. Thomas is going to die. Death is inevitable,” Virgil mumbled shakily, though it was still quite loud once the tempest tongue kicked in. He put his hands in his hair, but before he could pull at it, Patton led his hands away.

“Now Remus, that may be true, but there’s no need to dwell on it, especially when you know it will upset Virgil,” Logan said with a strict tone.

“Oh oh, I wonder who’ll go first when Thomas dies? Think it’ll be all at once, or one by one? I vote Roman-”

“Won’t you just shut up?” Roman spoke up, voice raised. “You’re harming Virgil and you know it. Keep your ideas in your side of the Mindscape; We don’t want them here.” His fists balled up as he glared at his brother. Oh, what he’d give to be able to walk up to him, to punch him square in the jaw. He’d love to unsheathe his sword and bury it right in his fucking stomach, to watch the emotions flicker through his eyes as they slowly went glassy and he collapsed to his knees, the blade continuing up through his skin like it was paper, the blood leaking through his clothing and pooling around him on the floor-

Roman blinked hard, brows furrowed. No one had responded to him yet, because it had only been a moment. What kind of thought was that? Certainly not one becoming of a prince. Was Remus messing with him somehow? Roman knew he could project thoughts into Thomas and the others’ heads, but Roman had never experienced it himself-- Why would Remus give him an intrusive thought right now, especially one so gruesome as to include his own gory death by Roman’s hands? He didn’t look like he had done anything, but he had to have, right? Roman didn’t come up with ideas like that. He was light creativity, he was good creativity!

Patton must’ve noticed his distress, as he quickly looked between the two. “Oooookay,” he began, “Remus is being a little inconsiderate of Virgil. And that isn’t okay! But that doesn’t mean we don’t want him at all. Everyone messes up from time to time!”

“But he’s doing it on purpose!” Roman exclaimed. He gestured his arms towards Remus and waved them incredulously. “I mean, look at him! He doesn’t even care!” 

Remus didn’t respond, continuing to stand in his spot, smiling and unblinking. Janus cleared his throat, gathering their attention. 

“I’m sure Remus just loves being talked about as if he isn’t here. Regardless, it’s hardly fair to criticize him for one incident that’s a result of his function as intrusive thoughts, especially considering that you’ve shown a pattern of worse behavior over the past… What, three years?” He looked towards Logan for confirmation.

“Yes, approximately that long, although that’s a misleading usage of the information. He’s improved over time,” Logan responded.

“Only if you consider his treatment of Virgil exclusively. Regardless, you've proved my point,” Janus said, sounding satisfied. “If it took Roman three years to warm up to Virgil, why does Remus only get a few months? Not to mention that he’s just being told that he’s unwanted and to leave, you've never experienced despite your actions, and which is preposterous notwithstanding.”

Virgil finally ripped his hands from Patton and covered his ears, shutting his eyes tightly.

“Shut up shut up shut up!” he said frantically. Patton bit his lip and looked around the room.

“Listen, usually I’d encourage a healthy family discussion, but now’s really not the time to be doing this-- Roman, please go to your room. Remus, I’m not mad at you, but I’d really appreciate it if you would go ahead and leave for the night, too.”

Roman stared at Patton for a moment, mouth agape and brows furrowed. “My room- Patton, I’m not five! This isn’t even my fault-”

“Don’t argue, Roman,” Logan cut him off, “Do as Patton said. We’ll discuss this more in-depth later.”

Roman gave a loud scoff as he trudged across the room and began making his way up the stairs. He gave one last glare to Remus, who’d finally begun to move, and then continued to his room, where he fell backwards onto his bed. He closed the door with a flick of his hand, and stared at the ceiling, letting out a resigned sigh as he reminisced. Why was everything so backwards nowadays, he wondered? When had the dastardly acts of his brother become the new norm, overshadowing his own heroism and creativity?

It wasn’t as if Roman could even do anything about it, either; Patton’s decisions on what was right and wrong was like the word of law in the Mindscape. Sure, Roman could challenge his thinking, but he hardly wanted a repeat of his… Frog incident. He couldn’t bear it if he distressed him that much again. All Roman could hope for was that one day, sooner rather than later, someone would either talk some sense into him, or he’d come to the realization himself that Remus was merely a parasite to their famILY.

For now, at least, Roman could dream. 

‘Patton loves me just as much as the others. He’s a dad! Dads love all their children equally.‘

‘Even if it seems like it sometimes, no one really hates me- Well, besides Remus.’

‘...And even if they do, I can fix it.’

Even if it meant lying to himself.

[i-am-church-the-cat]

Good To Sea You Again

Hi @thomas-gaypanic-lightwood! I’m your person for the Willex gift exchange week. You said you liked Willix, Juke, and Flarrie as well as enemies to lovers and fake dating so I tried to do a little bit of both for Flarrie with background Willex. It didn’t have as much Willex as I wanted though, so the second part of your gift is in the reblog. I hope you like it! - WC: 4292 Pairing: Flarrie (background Willex) Summary: Flynn and Carrie are trying to help their best friend propose to his boyfriend on a cruise. Only, it’s a couples cruise...  -

Flynn looked around as she broke her muffin into little pieces. Alex had asked her to meet her at a cafe so that she could ask her something. And when her best friend’s boyfriend asked her for a favor, the least she could do was listen to him. Okay, so maybe Alex had known Willie first. And introduced him to Flynn. But which one of them skated with him every Thursday since they were seventeen? Julie would always be Flynn’s bffl, but when she had gone to Julliard for college and Flynn stayed in LA, she had to find other people to hang out with. Most notably, her childhood best friend’s band mate’s epic skater boyfriend. She heard the door open and turned, waving at the blond man who came through the door. Her smile fell when she saw who was following in after him, though. Carrie Wilson had been Juli’s best friend before she dropped her in high school. She had never been nice to Flynn or Julie, but when the boys had transferred school their senior year, the connection between her and Alex was instant. Julie and Carrie had made up but Flynn had ever seen eye-to-eye with her. They tolerated each other’s presence for their friends’ sake, but they weren’t making friendship bracelets anytime soon. “Hey!” Alex greeted, dropping into the seat across from her. Carrie pulled up a chair while they situated the absorbent amount of bags they were both holding. “Sorry we’re late.” “Don’t worry about it, I haven’t been here long,” she eyed their stuff before returning her smile to her face. “What were you two up to?” “Getting ready. Lots of stuff to do before the wedding,” Carrie explains, settling in her chair. Flynn frowned in confusion as Alex hissed Carrie’s name. That was all she needed for it to click. “Oh my god, Willie proposed to you?! Why didn’t he tell me? Why wasn’t I involved? Why am I-” “No no no,” Alex waved his hands to get her to stop. “Willie didn’t propose to me, I’m trying to propose to him.” She blinks, getting hit with emotional whiplash as she relaxes. “Oh. Wait, are you asking my permission?” Carrie snorted (Flynn wished she could say unattractively but she’s been gorgeous every day of their lives) and Alex ignored her. “No, I’m asking for your help.” “Aw, dude!” She grinned and leaned forward to take his hand. “Of course, I’ll help. You two are my OTP.” “I thought Luke and Julie were your OTP?” Flynn waved his words away. The two had been on and off since high school and while she had no doubt they would find each other in the end, Wille and Alex took priority. “Doesn’t matter, tell me what you’re thinking and how I can help. Also, why is Carrie here?” “I’m the best woman,” the blonde said smugly. Flynn just blinked at her. “There’s no wedding yet.” Carrie rolled her eyes. “Fine, then I’m helping my best friend get engaged. Does it matter?” Flynn wanted to argue that yes, it did matter, but a look from Alex kept her silent. She shrugged and then focused back on her friend. Her questions still needed answers after all. Alex looked between them, waiting for them to be done before smiling at Flynn. “Right, so there’s this cruise Willie’s always wanted to go on.” “The Alaska cruise.” “Yeah,” Alex shivered. “I don’t know why but he does. And I found a couple’s cruise that goes there and I told them what I want to do and they’re going to help me set it up.”

Flynn frowned. “Alright, cool… what do you need me for?” Alex looked expectant if a little nervous. “I need you and Carrie to distract Willie so that he doesn’t find out before the end of the two-week cruise.” Two weeks? That would be a little tight but they could probably swing it. Flynn happened to know first hand that Carrie was very good at espionage when she wanted to be. They could definitely do it. “But wait,” Flynn frowned and looked between the two. “Carrie and I are both single, we can’t go on a couple’s cruise.” Carrie rolled her eyes as if Flynn was missing something (and she was starting to feel like maybe she was). “Isn’t it obvious? The two of us will pretend to be a couple.” Flynn just stared at her until Carrie snapped her fingers in front of her face. “I’m sorry, did you just say a couple?” “Yep,” she assured, accentuating the p with a pop of her gum. “And.. you’re okay with that?” Carrie rolled her eyes. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I got over the internalized homophobia thing back in high school.” She shook her head. “No no, just. Me? Really?” “Yes, Flynn,” the blonde sighs. “If it’s for my friends, I’ll even date you.” “So you’ll do it?” Alex asked before the two could start trading insults. Flynn crossed her arms and looked between the two. Pretending to be dating Carrie Wilson wouldn’t exactly be fun for her. But… It was her best friends. “Yeah, yeah, I’ll do it,” she sighed with a grin. “But this proposal better be awesome.” “Oh, it is,” Alex assured. The woman relaxed as her friend regaled her with his plans to propose. And if she had a hard time keeping her eyes off of her “girlfriend”. Well, she was just getting ready for the trip. - “I can’t believe you two were dating and you didn’t tell me!” Willie said as he and Flynn walked back from the skate park. The cruise left in a week and Flynn was using all her spare time to help get ready for it- and keep Willie in the dark. She and Carrie had decided on a cover story a few days ago, and it was only yesterday that Alex told Willie about the trip. “Yeah, it was a shock to me too,” she agreed, forcing a laugh. “Wait, but how did it even happen? I thought you two hated each other?” “We don’t hate each other…” Flynn started to explain, remembering the conversation she and Carrie had the other day. `So what, we’re going to go from hating each other to dating just like that?’ Carrie rolled her eyes but Flynn was used to it by now. People always seemed to miss that the important questions were sometimes the most obvious ones. ‘I’ve never hated you, Flynn.’ She scoffed at that. ‘Seriously, I haven’t! We disagreed but I didn’t hate you…’ Flynn watched her and was surprised to find that she looked sincere. And Flynn knew when she looked sincere. Carrie was a good actress but not that good. Well, at least there’s that. She sighed. ‘Fine. But how did we get together?’ “It was so weird, honestly. You know that blind date Georgia, my coworker, sent me on?” At Willie’s nod, she continued. “She was the blind date.” Not really. Her blind date had never shown and Flynn had gone home and ate brownies all night but whatever. It worked in their favor. “Wow, really?” Willie laughed. “Small world.” “That’s exactly what I thought. Anyway, dinner was already paid for so we both just decided to stay. We ended up having fun. I guess dates are better when you already know the person you’re dating.” Willie hummed in agreement then hit her lightly with the back of his hand. “And hey, now you can do fun stuff like this with me and Alex. My best friend’s girlfriend just happens to be my boyfriend’s best friend. It’s kind of perfect.” Flynn smiles but it doesn’t quite reach her eyes. “Yeah, it kind of is, isn’t it?” But it isn’t real, her brain reminds her. It never would be. Willie grins and nudges her again before his eyes lit up. “Hey, race ya to the convenience store.” He put his board down and hopped on, speeding off. Flynn grinned and was quick to follow him. They raced around people down the block. Even at almost 28, they knew how to goof off just enough to enjoy life. Flynn never felt bad around Willie. He was a genuinely nice guy and he always knew how to lift her spirits. That’s why he deserved this, an epic proposal from the love of his life with the help of his friends. Flynn would do anything to give him that, even pretend to date Carrie Wilson. - So, Flynn had something to admit. She’d never been on a cruise before. Even growing up less than an hour away from the beach, it was just not something she had ever wanted to do. She was confused when they explained they would have to fly up to Anchorage to even board the boat. But after learning it would take almost 5 weeks to sail from LA to Alaska, she was more than happy to pay the cost. Carrie and Flynn flew up a day before Alex and Willie. Something about Carrie needing to get over the time difference but Alaska was just an hour behind California so Flynn was pretty sure that was a lie. Either way, it let them practice their roles before the cruise and that’s what Flynn was going to do. “Here I can get that,” Flynn said, smiling at Carrie as she took her bag and placed it in the overhead bin. The blonde looked bewildered at her attitude. She’d been doing that all day and Flynn would clue her in, but it was more fun to watch her be confused. The best part was when the flight attendant came to check on them though. They had first-class seats - thank you, Carrie’s dad - so there was plenty of room between them. “Hi, Miss Wilson?” At Carrie’s nod, the attendant continued. “We hope you enjoy your flight. If you and your…” When she trailed off, Flynn grinned and pointedly reached across the console to take Carrie’s hand. “Girlfriend.” The attendant smiled and nodded. “If you and your girlfriend need anything, please let us know.” Flynn was honestly impressed at Carrie’s ability to keep her composure. She just nodded and thanked her. It wasn’t until she had walked away did the blonde whip around to look at her, looking honestly baffled. “What did you say that for?” She hissed, taking her hand back. Flynn grinned and shrugged. “We’re supposed to be pretending to date each other right? Why not start now?” Carrie looked at her weirdly before eventually nodding and sitting back in her seat. The rest of the flight was uneventful, but Carrie took her out to dinner as soon as they landed. They held hands and flirted and fought over who would pay the bill - Carrie won. Honestly, Flynn would be fooled if she was watching all of this. Carrie was a very good fake girlfriend. Or, you know. Real girlfriend too. When they got to the hotel, they found out that their reservation had accidentally been put as one king-sized bed. Carrie nodded and said that was fine. At the look Flynn gave her, she shrugged. “We’re going to be sharing a bed for a week on the boat. What’s one more night?” Flynn couldn’t shake how fast her heart was beating as she followed the blonde to the elevator. They stood in awkward silence until they reached their floor. Carrie led the way once again and unlocked their room with her key card. The room was gorgeous, as was the rest of the hotel. There was something to be said about traveling with Carrie Wilson. You travel in style. “Do you want the right side or the left side?” Carrie asked, glancing at her. “Ummm. I’ll take the side closer to the windows, you take the side closer to the bathroom?” Carrie agreed and they got their stuff situated. Flynn flopped onto the bed with a sigh, feeling exhausted from their flight. She could probably pass out for the next sixteen hours and have to race to get the boat on time. The blonde shook her head at her. “I’m going to take a shower, should I save you some hot water?” “Nah you take it,” Flynn said, kicking her shoes off. “I’ll probably be out by the time you get back.” Carrie nodded and disappeared into the bathroom. Flynn hadn’t been lying when she said she would probably pass out within minutes. But for some reason, she just couldn’t relax enough to fall asleep. She was staring at the closed curtains when the bathroom door re-opened and the other woman slipped into the bed. The silence grew between them as the minutes ticked by. Flynn knew Carrie wasn’t asleep because her breathing was too fast. Eventually, the silence got to be too much for her, and she turned over. Carrie was facing the other way but after a few moments of Flynn staring at her back, she turned over, too. “Should we talk about this?” Flynn finally asked. Carrie didn’t look surprised. “We already talked about this.” “Yeah but it’s. Different. Now that we’re actually doing it.” Carrie nodded. “It is a little weird isn’t it? To go from nothing to… pretending to be something?” “Yeah.” Flynn sighs and stretches out on the bed. “But… we don’t have to.” Carrie blinked then frowned at her. “What?” “We don’t have to go from nothing. We can be... friends. Right?” Carrie nodded. “I’d like that. To be your friend.” Flynn smiled. “Me too.” “Alright then,” the blonde sighed. “Friends it is.” Flynn stuck her pinkie out. Carrie snorted but dutifully wrapped her pinkie around Flynn’s. “Friends,” Flynn agreed. She fell asleep almost instantly after that. - The boat was beautiful. And a little crowded but mostly beautiful. Carrie had planned tons of activities for them all, and a few for just Alex and Willie, or, when Alex needed to go talk to someone about the proposal, Willie and Flynn. Flynn barely had a second to herself the first few days. She enjoyed helping out but… planning a proposal was a lot apparently. Carrie didn’t exactly make it better. Not about the proposal. With that, she was great, she knew exactly what she wanted and how to make it happen. It made Flynn imagine what she would be like planning her own engagement or wedding. And that was the problem. The more time the two spent together and around all this stuff, the more Flynn thought about it being real. And she liked those thoughts. It was getting way too close to things she wasn’t ready to acknowledge, may never be able to acknowledge. “Hey, what are you doing here?” Flynn looked up from where she was trailing her legs through the water. She was sitting on the edge of her pool, getting a break from all the planning and scheming and girlfriend-ing. She was not expecting to be found by the woman she was trying to avoid. “Uh, I was just… getting some sun.” Carrie sighed as she sat down next to Flynn, closer than she normally would. But, girlfriends. They were girlfriends right now. She stuck her bare legs in the water and tilted her head back. “The boys are getting facials. I was tasked with coming to find you since no one knew where you were.” “Sorry…” Flynn mumbled, looking back at the water. Carrie nudged her. “Don’t worry about it. Is everything okay?” Flynn nodded before she could change her mind. “Yeah yeah, just needed a second.” “Oh,” Carrie blinked, pinking up distractingly. “Oh, right, I can just get out of your-” “No, no, it’s okay,” Flynn assured, reaching out to grab her hand. “You can stay. I want you here.” And she meant it too. Sure, she had been avoiding her, but only because she made it hard to pretend. But now that she was here, Flynn was hit with how much she wanted to be in the other woman’s company. Carrie smiled softly and settled back down. “Alright then. I’ll stay.” “Great,” Flynn smiled at her and the two looked at each other for a while before turning back to the pool. They talked quietly for the rest of the afternoon until the sun started to dip below the horizon and they had to go meet the boys for dinner. Flynn wished they could have stayed there forever. - The longer the week wore on, the harder it was to admit that Flynn didn’t like Carrie. She was loud and passionate in the best way (some would say a lot like Flynn herself) and she knew how to get what she wanted. That was clear when she had stolen some drinks from the bar in the middle of the night and convinced Flynn to drink them on the deck with her under the stars. It had been fun. Very intimate. She had to keep reminding herself it wasn’t a date even as the memory of Carrie’s eyes shining in the starlight replayed in her head. Yeah, she was most definitely screwed. Tonight was the second to last night on the ship. They would be home the day after tomorrow, Willie and Alex would be happily engaged, and they could stop pretending. Go back to their normal lives. As if Flynn even knew what that meant anymore. “What are you thinking about?” Willie asked as he leaned against the rail next to her. They were on the balcony, looking down at the main deck where Carrie and Alex and a few others were dancing. “Oh, you know,” Flynn sighed. “The future.” Willie looked between her and Carrie and grinned. “The future huh?” Flynn knew what he was thinking and she was surprised with how much she wanted his assumption to be true. She forced a smile and nodded. “Yep. What about you?” “I was thinking…” Willie grinned. “That we should go dance with our beautiful partners.” She laughed and pushed off of the railing. “You read my mind, Will.” He grinned and nudged her before heading down the stairs, Flynn on his heels. She smiled as he pulled Alex into a smooth dip and kiss. She could admit that the man definitely had moves. “Hey,” came a soft voice. Flynn smiled and turned to Carrie. They smiled at each other for a moment before Flynn extended her hand. Carrie took it and they began to sway together. The music was soft and light, easy to dance to. They didn’t talk as they danced. Just relaxed and enjoyed the music, moving along with the ship, and each other’s company. It was cozy in a way Flynn knew she was going to miss later. But for now, she let herself have it. They danced through a few songs and she almost jumped when Carrie spoke again. “Do you want to get out of here?” She asked tentatively. Flynn never knew her to be tentative in anything. She nodded and the two started walking back to their cabin. They walked in silence most of the way but Flynn could feel the tension in the air. She was just waiting for Carrie to say something. The brunette was paying close enough attention to stop at the same time as the other woman. She waited patiently - for maybe the first time in her life - as Carrie collected herself. “I was the blind date.” Flynn frowned. That was not what she was expecting to hear at all, especially because it made no sense. But Carrie was looking more anxious than she had ever known the other woman to be, so she tried her best to answer. “Yeah, that was our story right?” Carrie shook her head. “No- I mean yes, it was, but it wasn’t just a story. I was your blind date. I- I stood you up.” Okay, now she was definitely confused. Why was she telling her this now? “So what? You decided to leave instead of just tell me you weren’t interested? That’s not exactly new information.” “I- What, no?” Carrie looked genuinely surprised. “I decided to leave because I knew you would hate seeing me.” Flynn scoffed. “I would not have-” “You’ve glared at me every time I’ve walked into a room for the last eleven years!” “Not every time,” she disagrees. The blonde’s scoff/laugh grates on her nerves and she draws herself up. “Yeah, well, so what? It’s not like you were interested in dating me either.” “I tried to ask you to prom senior year!” Record scratch. Excuse me? “What? No, you didn’t!” Carrie looked at her triumphantly but also a little bitterly. “Oh yes, I did. But the second I came up to you, you insulted me.” “When did I…” Flynn inhaled quickly. She did remember Carrie coming up to her a few weeks before prom. She hadn’t even let her talk, just said something about not voting for her for prom queen. Carrie hadn’t even responded, just nodded as if she had known it all along and walked off. Flynn always thought that was weird but it was ten years ago. She blinked at the blonde, shock and horror warring for dominance in her head. “Carrie, I didn’t…” “It’s fine,” she said tossing her hair back. It didn’t sound fine, that’s for sure. “I knew you never felt the same way.” No. No no no no, this couldn’t be happening. Carrie had to know that she was wrong; she had to know that Flynn felt the same way. Before she could overthink it, she stepped forward and pulled the other woman down into a kiss. Carrie gasped softly and Flynn pressed closer, tried to show her how she felt. The blonde’s hands came to rest on her waist and she leaned into it and then… then… And then Carrie was pulling away. She brought a hand up between them and shook her head. Flynn wanted to protest, ask what was wrong, but Carrie just looked so sad. “Don’t,” came so softly, Flynn almost thought she imagined it. Then she was turning around and striding back down the corridor, leaving Flynn a few feet away from their door. She brought a hand up to her lips as she slumped against the wall. Even with her lips still tingling from the kiss, she couldn’t shake the feeling that her heart was breaking before her eyes. Carrie didn’t come back to the room that night. Flynn couldn’t fall asleep.  - Carrie ignored her all through breakfast the next morning. Her bag was packed by the time Flynn came back to the room and they had nothing planned on the ship so no one came to get them. She didn’t get a chance to talk with her until they were setting up the main deck for the proposal. “Balloons.” “Check.” “Champagne.” “Check.” “Live preservers.” Flynn huffed. They had already gone through this list twice. “Check, Carrie, will you please-” “It’s almost time for the proposal, Flynn, I don’t know what you want me to do,” the blonde brushed her aside, not looking up from her clipboard. “I want you to talk to me.” “I am talking to you.” “Not like-” she growled in frustration and stole Carrie’s clipboard. She looked up, a protest on her lips, but the shorter woman stuck a finger in her face. “No, we are talking about this, Wilson.” Carrie seemed to deflate. She crossed her arms defensively and let out a small huff. “Fine, you want to talk? Let’s talk. Let’s talk about how you haven’t given me the time of day in almost eleven years.” “Oh yeah? Well, let’s also talk about how you’ve liked me for ten of those!” “I didn’t-” she bit off the end of her sentence. She pointed at Flynn. “I was over you, okay? Over you. And then you had to come in and hold my hand and be nice to me and call me your girlfriend and it hurt, okay? It hurt because it was everything I had wanted in high school being dangled in front of me with the knowledge that it would all be ripped away once we ended this. Okay, so maybe I got a little heated but I didn’t want to be strung along.” Flynn felt like she had been slapped. She never could have imagined making anyone feel like this. And- and Carrie? Flynn never considered being more than a blip on her radar. “Strung along? What are you talking about?” Carrie snorted. “Please, you’ve never been shy about how you felt about me. You just got caught up in all the emotions this week.” “Is that what you think?” Flynn asked, incredulous. Carrie shrugged. “Carrie Wilson, I’ve had a crush on you since middle school.” The blonde looked as shocked as she felt. “What? No, you haven’t.” “Yes, I have! And then you stopped hanging out with Julie and started being cold to us and I thought ‘well, the pretty ones are always like that’. But then you apologized and got better but I still thought you hated me. So I thought I would do my best to ignore you right back.” “So… so,” for once in her life, it looked like Carrie was speechless. “So I never hated you,” Flynn chewed on her lip. “And you never hated me?” Carrie shook her head slowly. “So what does… what does that mean?” “It means,” Flynn took a deep breath and held out her hand. “Carrie Wilson, after this cruise, would you like to go on a date with me?” The other woman beamed and took her hand. “Yes. I would.” - It was a beautiful proposal. Willie of course said yes. And Flynn got to see it all, with Carrie’s hand in hers.

[exhaustedfander]

One shot request intruality, Patton and Remus having a conversation about their insecurities. Mostly focusing on how they both have times of struggling to understand the other sides ex. Making some changes

This isn’t exactly what was requested, but I hope you enjoy it nonetheless. I had a lot of fun with this one! 

Word Count: 3,322

Summary: Recently, Patton and Remus's relationship has begun to change. When Patton lets a pet name slip by accident, a much-needed conversation takes place.

ao3 link

Sweet Pea

To say that Remus hadn’t been expecting any of this would be a gross understatement. He is by no means the kind of side to have too many expectations; when your whole thing is being unpredictable, you learn to stop expecting things and simply see what life chucks your way. Even so, having a relationship with Patton of any kind has thrown him for a loop like very few things can.

It isn’t as though Remus has a vendetta against Patton. Sure, the guy is a lot more clean-cut then his style, which is to say, not a rat-man, and he indulges in far fewer of life’s pleasures than Remus does, but he doesn’t hate him. For a while there, he’d been real fun to mess with, knowing Patton was so afraid of him. So much as walking into a room could set the fatherly side on edge, and wasn’t that just the best? He adored messing with any of the others, but Patton was by far the easiest.

The only problem is, it’s become a hell of a lot less fun with Patton since the massive shift that’s occurred between them. When Janus got accepted into the “good guys,” Remus was convinced that his role likely wouldn’t change – which he was totally fine with! He’s been the same old Duke for years, even if Thomas hadn’t known about him for almost the entirety of his life, and that was okey-doke. But… after Janus found himself a seat at the table, so it seemed, did Remus.

It isn’t as though he’s been given the green light to try and convince Thomas to do absolutely anything he wants to do, as fun as that would be. But the weird thing is, Patton had apologized to him. Morality, who’d been so wary of him for so long, had told him that he had been judging him too harshly and that surely, there was a lot of good in him. Remus isn’t one to have expectations, but that had struck him as odd. Why the fuck would Patton want him to be around, considering all he represented? Why would morality want anything to do with him?

As weird as everything is, Remus had been under the impression that Patton was merely tolerating him, maybe in an attempt to make the others believe he was making nice with everyone. At first, Remus kept up his usual behavior, obnoxious and crude, but it didn’t rattle Patton like it used to. Sure, he’d get a surprised shriek or two when he dangled from the ceiling from one of his tentacles or rose up unexpectedly, but then Patton would simply smile at him and say hello.

 Patton isn’t scared of him, not anymore, and Remus doesn’t quite know what to do with that.

He’s used to others being unnerved in his presence, considering who he is. But since Patton has been alright with him hanging around them more and more, he’s noticed them doing more to tolerate him as well. Roman is, well, he isn’t complaining about him quite as much as usual. He’s even stopped chastising him every time he comes into the imagination claiming he’ll “Ruin everything!”, even if it is their shared domain. Virgil still seems fairly irritated with him, but that’s nothing new and Remus doesn’t mind. Logan is being far more considerate of him then he’d think, considering he’d chucked throwing stars at his face before. Janus has always at the very least tolerated him, so that’s just peachy-keen. The other sides are being considerate enough not to complain every time he’s near, but Patton has gone above and beyond in welcoming him lately. And that… is decidedly very weird.

He's invited him to come to dinner, even encouraging that he can eat whatever he wants, no matter how seemingly inedible it is. It’s certainly amusing to see the looks on the other’s faces when he sits down at the dinner table as if he belongs there; he doesn’t think he belongs there, but that’s beside the point.

Patton does everything he can to keep things civil at the table, to a point where Remus is almost impressed if he weren’t such an agent of chaos himself. He nips blossoming spats between Virgil and Janus in the bud as quickly as they arise and he tells jokes and puns that Remus can’t help but find a little endearing, in a silly, dad way. Remus decides to tell some jokes of his own, and while they are on the harsher and more disgusting side, he elicits a few chuckles from Patton while the rest of them simply roll their eyes.

It doesn’t make any sense; Patton has just stopped being terrified of him, and now here he is, morality, giggling at Remus’s mention of cannibalism. Has the world gone mad? Has he gone mad? Quite possibly.

Things only grow stranger from that point on. Patton speaks often with Remus, encouraging him that they are getting to be “real good friends” and Remus is even invited to movie nights (“I’m afraid your birthday suit is not an acceptable outfit for movie night, kiddo).

It isn’t hard to tell that the others are at least somewhat displeased with him being there, for the most part. Sure, Janus doesn’t have any problems with him, and Logan doesn’t seem to hate him, but Roman is clearly very agitated and Virgil seems to be doing everything in his power to ignore him. And yet Patton, of all sides, continues to provide so much warmth and joy his way it almost made him want to puke.

Remus isn’t used to this kind of treatment. Even with Janus, someone he considers his closest friend, there is very little affection between them. Remus is used to being the gross one, the nuisance, the “problem child.” Being fawned over is a completely new experience and one he can’t decide how he feels about. Patton isn’t scared of him anymore, and that was kind of a bummer at first, but now? Well, now Remus isn’t quite sure what the hell is going on.

After movie night of a few Disney films, everyone else had decided to hit the hay, yet Patton and Remus remain. Remus is sure any moment now Patton will rise from his spot and declare that he is going to sleep, too. Except… that isn’t what happens.

Instead, Patton asks Remus if he has any movie recommendations, something they could watch, just the two of them.

“I don’t think my kind of movies are really your style, Pattycake,” Remus insists, thoroughly shocked that Patton would so much as ask. The fatherly side shakes his head.

“Well, that doesn’t mean we can’t give it a try. I’d like to watch something you enjoy for a change,” Patton says, smiling kindly, “If it’s really that bad, I’m sure I could just let you know.” That seems okay, Remus supposes.

“Yeah, alright. But don’t complain to me when you get sweet little nightmares,” Remus warns, though in actuality he doesn’t plan on showing Patton anything too intense. Before, the idea of giving Patton nightmares was positively delicious, but now – now it made him feel kinda sick, and not in a good way, either.

Remus decides to pop in The Cabin in the Woods, seeing as it is a comedy as well as horror and fairly silly, despite the gore. He’s sure Patton won’t be too much of a fan of it and bail out early on, and yet here he remains, sitting close to him on the couch and looking intently at the screen.

Remus realizes maybe he doesn’t know as much about Patton as he thought he did when he giggles a bit at a scene of people being mascaraed by a large group of monsters running amuck, laughing particularly hard when a character meets a gruesome fate at the hand of a less than conventionally attractive merman. All the while the movie has been going, Remus notices that Patton has been inching closer and closer until his head is resting on his shoulder. The thought of Patton willingly being so close to him sends a strange feeling of contentment through him. For most of their lives, Patton has been so wary of him, and now he’s almost as close as he can get. Why would something as silly as Patton laying his head on his shoulder make him feel so strange?

Remus is almost positive that he is going to burst into flames when Patton smiles at him once the film had ended and says: “I don’t know what you were worried about. That was a really fun movie, Sweet Pea.”

Remus jerks away, scooting to the edge of the couch while Patton shoots him a look of concern.

“Remus, are you okay?”

“What… what did you just call me?” Patton blinks.

“…Huh?”

“You called me Sweet Pea. Why – why the hell did you do that for?” Even in the fairly dark living room, Remus can see the blush that’s spread across Patton’s face, meaning his own flushed cheeks are visible as well. Patton wrings his hands, apprehension present in the action.

“W-well, I dunno, I guess it just kinda… slipped?” Patton offers weakly, praying Remus will accept the answer without fighting it any more than that. Of course, that’s not to be the case.

“It slipped?” Remus asks incredulously. “Why in the world would you use a word like that to describe me?” Patton doesn’t respond for a moment, his eyes settled on his lap, refusing to answer Remus’s burning question. After a minute or so, though, Patton speaks.

“Things have been different between us lately, haven’t they?”

The question hangs heavy in the air. Remus barely knows how to respond. Of course, things have been different; Patton’s actively professed he enjoys hanging-out, to say things hadn’t changed would be a blatant lie.

“I mean… yeah. You’ve been all sweet with me, I guess. Which you get is weird, right?”

“Why would it be weird?” Patton asks, so genuinely it hurts.

“Because,” Remus says as though Patton’s a lunatic for asking the question, gesturing vaguely to himself, “I’m me! Intrusive thoughts, remember? Everything nasty that’s been shut away for the last thirty-years; everything you hate.” Patton’s mouth creases into a frown.

“I don’t hate you, Remus. I… well, I never have. I was just scared of you, once, but I just didn’t understand you then.” Remus scoffs.

“And now you understand me completely?”

“I never said that. But…” Patton hesitates, biting his lip before extending Remus his hand, “I want to. I want to know you better. I was so lost in the belief that I knew best for so long… and I’ll always be sorry for that. I’m sorry for the way that I treated you and Janus; it wasn’t right of me. Not at all. But I’m trying. I want to know you guys. I want to know you, Remus.”

Remus retracts his hand, the warmth in his chest bursting into flames, a fire that’s sure to burn down everything that it touches.

“You don’t want that,” he insists, his eyes training on the wall, eager to avoid the heavy weight of Patton’s gaze.

“But I do!”

“No, you just think you do,” Remus grits through his teeth, the fire bathing him in a horrible warmth, “You – you just think you want that. But you don’t. You’re too sweet for that. Too sweet to know me that way. You’ll quit while you’re ahead if you know what’s good for you.” Remus rises to his feet, positive the fire is enveloping him now, positive to burn him to the ground. With each passing second, he burns a little brighter, skin melting and bones turning to ash. The feeling is something horrible, he realizes, more abhorrent than anything he could possibly conjure.

Remus is falling in love with Patton.

Remus shivers as Patton grabs a hold of his wrist, keeping him from feeling. Doesn’t he get it; Remus is trying to keep him from perishing in the fire as well. He’ll die alone, go up and smoke if it means Patton is safe.

“Patton – let go,” Remus says, the request a beg more than anything else. Patton shakes his head, determination brimming in his eyes.

“I won’t. I’m not letting you leave, Remus.”

Remus pulls harder, shocked by the sheer strength Patton is exhibiting. If it were anyone else, he’d do anything to escape, biting, scratching, and clawing his way out, if necessary. But Patton isn’t anyone else and he’s been stupid enough to develop dangerously strong feelings. Patton calling him something so soft and painfully domestic has awoken something fragile in him, and he intends to put an end to it.

“Why not? Why the fuck are you trying so hard to be nice to me? Why do you care?”

“Because…” Patton swallows the lump in his throat, squeezing his eyes shut as he lets go and admits it, “I like you!”

“Wh-what?”

“I said: I like you. I’ve been spending time with you because I want to. I want you to feel welcomed, I want you to know you have a place here. But also because I like you. A lot.” Finally, Patton’s released him, and yet Remus can’t find it in himself to run away.

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“But I do!” Patton maintains, his eyes burning with a sincerity that’s scaring the hell out of Remus, “Lately, I’ve seen you light up and… I like that. I like seeing you so much happier, I like seeing you and Jan joking in the commons and at the dinner table. I like it when you greet me in silly ways when you hang from the ceiling with your tentacles or jump from behind the couch. I like the time we spend together; I like that I’m getting to know you more.

“I like you, Remus. And if you don’t feel the same… then I understand. If I’ve made you uncomfortable, I’m sorry… again. But I need you to understand that I want this, I want to hang out, I want to watch movies that you pick out. I want you to be real with me because you can! I’m not afraid of you anymore, and I never want to be ever again. Liking you is much better than that.”

Remus doesn’t know how to respond. The fire is incasing him now, but he’s not sure if he’s going to be reduced to a pile of ashes anymore. Patton is offering so much, more than he realizes. He’s offering the kindness he’s already shown him, offering understanding unlike he’s ever known, offering intimacy unlike he’s ever experienced. And he could turn away and forget this ever happened if he so desired. Patton’s giving him that option, too, no matter how much it’s clear that he doesn’t want to. All because of some sappy nickname being said accidentally, Remus is being extended an opportunity he never envisioned for himself.

Remus has the chance to get to know Patton for everything that he is, faults and all, a chance to see the moral side down to his very core. And, in turn, he’s being given the chance to be known himself, in a way he didn’t think anyone would ever truly be interested. It would be a major understatement to say he’s a little overwhelmed.

“Do you… do you mean it?” He hates the vulnerability in his wavering voice, threatening to break. He hasn’t felt so overrun by emotions of this caliber in years, used to being brushed aside and ignored. Patton smiles, so genuinely Remus is almost positive the heart he wasn’t aware of owning is about to burst.

“With all my heart,” Patton says, and that’s the straw that breaks the Camel’s back.

Remus launches himself forward, throwing his arms around the moral side and burying his face in his neck. Patton stiffens for a moment, caught off-guard before returning the embrace with nearly as much vigor.

“Me too,” Remus says, his voice uncharacteristically soft as he clings to Patton, the fire no less lively but dying down in terms of threat, “I like you too, Patton. A-a lot. More than bugs, or blood and guts, or all the deodorant in the world.” Patton laughs at that, the sound bright and so full of joy as he runs a hand through Remus’s frazzled hair.

“Well, what a lucky guy I am,” Patton says, though his tone is nothing but serious.

After a moment they part long enough to sit back down on the couch, though Remus is quick to place himself right in Patton’s lap, his legs wrapping around the moral side’s waist. Remus has never known much in the ways of personal space and Patton is almost always eager to hug the nearest person to him, combining to an unlikely but very cuddly pair.

“Hey, Remus, how many tickles does it take to make an octopus laugh?” Patton asks. The smile that’s crept onto Remus’s face and refused to leave grows.

“I dunno, Pattycake, how many?”

“Ten tickles!” Patton says before unleashing an onslaught of tickles onto Remus, earning a trail of giggles Patton is sure is one of the loveliest things he’s ever heard.

“Sta-stop it! knock it off, Pat or I’ll-I’ll claw your eyes out!” Remus warns jokingly, peeling off into another peel of laughter before Patton stops.

“Hey, Sweet Pea?” Patton asks after a moment. The nickname surprises Remus, but this time he’s a little more prepared for it.

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?” He asks softly, his hands cupping Remus’s face gently. Remus nods quickly, smiling as Patton leans in and closes the gap. The embrace is gentle, perhaps gentler than would be expected of Remus, but it’s nothing short of incredible. Remus relishes in the feeling of Patton’s soft lips, his hands burying themselves in Patton’s curls.

“Hey,” Remus says as they break apart, already intent on kissing Patton senseless the next chance he gets. For now, though, he’s drowning in the warmth that’s surrounding him, in the softness he’s suddenly been allowed.

“Hi,” Patton responds, his smile just as wide as Remus’s.

“You’re a damn good kisser, Cookie.” Patton turns three shades redder in a matter of seconds. “Aww, you got all embarrassed! You like me calling you my cookie?”

“Stop it, Remus!” Patton says with a giggle.

“What? You’re so sweet, I can’t help it.” “Remus.”

“Oh, so you can call me sweet pea, but I can’t call you cookie. How’s about my buttercup? Honeybee? Cutie Pie?”

“Remus,” Patton says, before pressing his lips to the intrusive side’s again, effectively silencing him.

Not long ago, Patton was terrified of Remus. Terrified of what he represented and what that could mean for Thomas. But that isn’t the case anymore, not nearly. Affection has grown between them without either of them realizing. They still don’t entirely know each other, not yet. But they will. Patton’s grown so much, accepting the faults in his thinking, and with Remus’s help, he’s sure he’ll continue to change for the better.

Remus never counted on intimacy, not seeing how it could possibly be in the cards. And yet here he is, embracing someone he hasn’t always understood but is now so desperate to now. Remus doesn’t entirely know if he’s built for this kind of tenderness, knowing that it wouldn’t be impossible for things to shift back and for Patton’s fear to remerge. For now, though, Remus doesn’t focus on the nagging thoughts of what could go wrong, simply embracing what’s right in front of him.

They put on another movie, going to bed at a reasonable time out the window, though it takes very little time for them to fall asleep in each other’s arms, the TV still playing some long since forgotten horror movie.

=+=

Taglist:

@nadiestar 

@unoriginalgayboyalex 

[itsyourchoice-hp]

Year 2: Christmas at the Burrow

Cath climbed the steps to the Owlery, the snow crunching under her feet. There were only two weeks left in the term. In her hand she clutched a letter addressed to her parents, asking if she could spend some of the Christmas holidays at the Weasley’s house. Both Harry and Hermione were going to spend the full break there, and Ron had invited both Cath and Draco to join.

She knew that her parents would definitely say no to staying for the whole break, but Cath hoped that they would be in high spirits when they got her letter and allowed her to spend a few days. Although her parents didn’t talk too much about the Weasleys, she knew that her parents had differing opinions on them.

In general, her father was a part of circles made up of mostly wealthy, Pureblood witches and wizards. Though the Weasleys were a Pureblood family, Father had some strong opinions about Mr. Weasley’s fascination with Muggles and how he treated them as equal to himself. Truthfully, Cath didn’t know enough about Muggles to really form an opinion about them. She had never even met or talked to a Muggle before. Mother didn’t say much on the matter but didn’t seem to disapprove of Cath’s friendships with the Weasleys, or with Hermione, who was a Muggle-born witch.

When Cath opened the door to the Owlery, she saw Harry tying a letter to the claw of his snowy owl, Hedwig. He glanced over, and upon realizing it was Cath, waved. Hedwig hooted at him irritably.

“Alright, alright,” Harry said. He finished tying the letter and then let her take off, soaring out of one of the wide windows. “Hi, Cath.”

“Hello,” she replied, approaching one of the school owls, a small brown one with bright brown eyes. It pecked her finger lightly as she attached the letter to its leg.

“Is that the letter to your parents about Christmas break?” Harry asked.

Cath nodded. “I really hope the owl arrives when they’re in a good mood… especially Father. I hope they let me go…”

“Me too,” Harry replied.

“What are you doing?” Cath asked him.

“Sending a letter to my aunt and uncle that I’m not coming home for break,” Harry said. His face darkened. “Although I doubt they’ll really care.”

Cath felt sorry for Harry. As much as her parents could be difficult at times, at least she had parents who loved her and cared for her. She couldn’t believe the things Harry had said in passing over the year about his aunt and uncle, how he used to sleep in a broom cupboard, that often he would be punished and not be able to eat.

There was silence for a minute as they both left the Owlery and descended the stairs. Cath glanced out at the school grounds, watching the Dementors slowly patrolling. She got that dark feeling she got whenever they were near.

“I wish they’d go away,” Cath remarked.

Harry looked around at the Dementors and nodded in agreement. “Me too. I’m tired of passing out cold every time I’m around them. I don’t know why they affect me so much.”

“You aren’t the only one they affect,” Cath assured him. “I don’t know a single person who could look at one without feeling horrible and terrified.”

“I suppose,” said Harry.

They entered one of the towers, grateful to be indoors. Even the castle, usually cold, was a relief from the chill outside. To the right was the corridor leading towards the classrooms. To the left, the stairway that would take Cath towards the Common Room.

“I’ve got to go,” Harry said to her. “I’m meeting with Professor Lupin about an assignment.”

“Alright,” Cath said, noticing his wand in his back pocket as he turned and walked down the corridor.

Cath began descending the staircase, thinking about the letter she sent. She hated feeling like she was missing out on spending time with her friends during the breaks. Sometimes Cath felt as though she was caught between two worlds; her parents, and her life at Hogwarts.

The staircase beneath her gave a big creaking noise and began to move to another landing. Cath sighed in annoyance. It wouldn’t be too much of a detour, but now she was going to have to through the main floor where the Great Hall and offices were. When the staircase connected, she went down the last few steps and rounded the corner.

To her great surprise, her father was talking in a low voice with Professor Dumbledore, looking very angry. Cath stopped for a moment, partially concealed behind a giant stone statue, and tried to hear what they were saying.

“…endangering the students in such a way is completely unacceptable,” she could hear her father say in an icy cold voice.

“I understand your frustration, Lucius, but I assure you-“

“Frustration? I am not frustrated, Albus. I am livid that my son was injured because of an irresponsible decision made by a professor at this school. I simply will not tolerate this nonsense. I have already brought the issue to the board of governors.”

“I would be happy to sit down with the board and discuss the matter there. But, respectfully, I do not think this corridor is the most suitable place for this conversation,” Dumbledore said calmly.

Cath’s father sighed irritably. “I will send you an owl with the date and time of the meeting,” he said curtly.

“I will await your letter,” Dumbledore replied. “Good day, Lucius.”

Cath could hear Dumbledore’s footsteps coming toward her. Quickly trying to look nonchalant, Cath continued down the corridor.

“Ms. Malfoy! What a coincidence,” Professor Dumbledore said pleasantly as they passed.

“Cathryn,” her father said, still in the same place Dumbledore had just come from.

“What are you doing here?” Cath asked.

Upon closer look, he looked very stressed. As he put on his leather gloves and fastened the buttons on his emerald green winter cloak, he replied, “I’ve been trying to reach Dumbledore for weeks about what happened to Draco. Your mother and I were absolutely horrified to hear that he was so badly injured under the supervision of a professor.”

“He seems to be recovering well,” Cath said, trying to reassure him.

“Regardless, it shouldn’t have happened in the first place,” he replied. “Hippogriffs? In a Third Year class? Ridiculous. That idiot should be sacked, and his beast executed.”

Cath had to bite her tongue, horrified at what her father had just said. “Hagrid didn’t mean to.”

“Whose side are you taking in the matter?” Father snapped. Cath felt silenced, not knowing how to respond. Her Father sighed, knowing his tone had been a bit too harsh. “I’m afraid I have to leave. Your mother and I are very much looking forward to you and Draco coming home for Christmas.”

Cath thought about the letter she had just sent. Did she dare bring it up now? Or should she wait until he was home to receive it? One more look at him made up her mind. “Me too,” she replied.

He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a gentle squeeze before turning in the direction of the entrance. Cath watched him leave, his cloak billowing behind him, and then turned around to get to the Common Room. When she arrived, she sighed in annoyance at the group of students waiting to enter. Sir Cadogan had no doubt changed the password on them again.

“Come on,” Dean Thomas groaned. “You can’t just let us in?”

“And put the noble house of Gryffindor in the face of danger?” Sir Cadogan asked incredulously. “Never. Now take out thy sword and fight me like a real knight!”

“We aren’t living in medieval times anymore!” Seamus exclaimed, exasperated.

“Last I checked it was Flibbertigibbet,” Cath offered, taking a step forward.

“We tried that already,” Pavarti Patil said, crossing her arms against her chest.

“Intruders! All of you,” Sir Cadogan waved his sword at them menacingly, as if he had forgotten he was just a portrait hanging on the wall of an old castle.

“You see us every day! You know we aren’t intruders,” Cath pointed out.

“What’s all the ruckus about?” Percy Weasley said from behind them. He pushed through to get to the front of the line.

“Sir Cadogan changed the password again,” Seamus explained to Percy.

Percy sighed in frustration. “Sir Cadogan,” he said as respectfully as he could. “We had this conversation last week with Professor Dumbledore-”

“Scoundrels! Dogs, all of you!” Sir Cadogan interrupted. “I can see none of you are fit for the task, nor are you brave enough to duel me. Now get back!”

Percy looked so angry a vein was beginning to pop out in his forehead. “I will not have you speak to me that way. I’m Head Boy! I demand you let these students into the Common Room at once.”

“Fine, I’ll let you in…” Sir Cadogan said with a smirk that gave the impression that he was not in fact going to let them in. “If you can tell me who defeated the Wyvern of Wye.”

There were a few exasperated sighs, and Cath worried that steam was going to start escaping Percy’s ears. She had never seen him so cross before; no doubt, he hated having his authority challenged.

“Does anyone know?” Seamus asked the group.

The others shook their heads dejectedly.

Cath suddenly had an idea. It was a long shot, but she might as well try. “Sir Cadogan,” she said, taking a step forward. Maybe if he recognized her from now on he’d let her in… “It was you of course.”

Sir Cadogan didn’t look so much disappointed as he was elated that someone recognized an achievement of his. “Aye, bonnie lass! It was I. It was a dark winter’s night, much like this one… The Wyvern of Wye-”

“Maybe another time,” Dean interrupted, looking expectantly at him.

Sir Cadogan finally gave in, swinging forward with a deep bow.

“Thank Merlin!” Seamus exclaimed.

“Thank goodness you came,” Parvati said gratefully. “I had no idea what he was even talking about.”

“I knew once a Head Boy arrived that he would stop with his ridiculous games,” Percy said from the back of the group. Everyone else ignored him.

“How did you know?” Dean asked.

Cath shrugged. “I just assumed he’d be talking about himself.” She had to admit, she was quite enjoying the attention. She even pretended to act modestly when Dean and Seamus told Ron, Hermione, Ginny, Fred, and George what had happened.

“Brilliant,” he said to Cath, giving her a lopsided grin. “I never would have thought of that.”

“It’s in A Comprehensive History of the Knights of the Round Table: Fifth Edition,” Hermione said as if it were obvious.

“How could I have forgotten,” Fred said sarcastically. “It’s only my favourite book.”

“I wish I had been there to see Percy get put in his place,” Ginny said ruefully.

Fred and George stood up. “Well, we had best be off…” George said.

“What are the two of you up to?” Hermione asked.

“No good, of course,” Fred replied, winking at her. He had a large piece of very old-looking parchment sticking out of his back trouser pocket, thought Cath doubted that they were going to do any homework.

“Where’s Harry?” Ginny asked, closing her copy of Quidditch Through the Ages and setting it beside her on the couch.

“Meeting Professor Lupin,” Cath answered.

“Did he mention what he was doing with him?” Hermione asked inquisitively.

“Just meeting with him about an assignment,” she replied.

“Doesn’t sound like Harry…” Ron remarked. He was opening a package of Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and held them out to the others.

Cath took a few in her hand and examined them. One was green with brown flecks, while the other was plain light blue. Deciding she had better go with the blue one, she popped it into her mouth and hesitantly bit down on it. Soap flavour. Certainly not the worst, considering there were flavours like earwax, sausage, and troll bogey.

A game of exploding snap started somewhere in the Common Room and Cath jumped up at the chance to play her favourite game. Ginny joined her and they sat down at one of the large study tables with a group of other students including Dean and Seamus and Colin Creevey and Alice Stone, both in their year.

***

The fall term was almost at a close, and Cath was still waiting for a reply from her parents about spending part of the Christmas break at the Weasleys’ house. It had been almost a week since she had sent her letter, and there were only five days left of school before the students were dismissed for two weeks.

It was a Sunday afternoon and the grounds were now completely covered in snow. There was not a single could in the sky that day, causing the white snow to sparkle and catch in the light. That morning Hermione and Ron had left for Hogsmeade, sent along with a list of things Cath, Ginny, and Harry wanted them to purchase for them.

Christmas time at Hogwarts was definitely one of Cath’s favourite times at school. In the girls’ dormitory was a huge window with a cushioned window seat. She and Ginny were curled up on it with a mug of hot chocolate, looking outside and soaking in the warmth of the sun.

Far down below Gryffindor tower, Cath could see Hagrid making his way from the edge of the forest toward the castle, dragging a pine tree in each hand through the snow. He left a long, snaking path behind him.

“Do you remember what happened to my brother in Hagrid’s class a while ago?” Cath asked Ginny, remembering the conversation she had had with her father when he was talking with Professor Dumbledore two weeks ago.

Ginny nodded, taking a sip of hot chocolate. “Has he recovered yet?” Cath could hear a trace of sarcasm in her voice.

“Oh, he’s fine,” Cath waved her hand dismissively. “The only thing is, my father was here a few weeks ago talking to Professor Dumbledore. I overheard them in the corridor. He was really upset about what happened and wanted to take some sort of action.”

“What kind of action?” Ginny asked, looking concerned.

Cath shrugged. “I’m not totally sure… he did mention wanting Hagrid to be fired though.”

“That’s not fair!” Ginny remarked. “It wasn’t Hagrid’s fault. Harry said Draco didn’t follow the instructions properly.”

“I know, I don’t think Hagrid is at fault either. I’m going to try my best to convince my father that it was just an accident,” Cath agreed with her before adding darkly, “Though I’m not sure I’ll have much luck, Draco being his favourite child and all.”

Ginny chuckled. “That can’t be true.”

“He doesn’t even try to hide it!”

“C’mon Cath, you don’t think your own father would actually pick a favourite child. He probably just gets on better with Draco because he’s a boy,” Ginny reasoned.

Cath sighed. “Maybe you’re right.” She blew gently on the surface of her hot chocolate before taking a sip, not wanting to burn her tongue. She licked whipped cream from the corners of her lips.

“Anyways, have you heard back from your parents about staying with us during the break?” Ginny asked, crossing her legs in front of her.

“Not yet,” Cath replied dejectedly. “If I don’t get anything back tomorrow, I’ll send another letter. I don’t see why they wouldn’t want me to go. Christmas at our house is so boring anyway.”

“They have to let you come,” Ginny said. “It wouldn’t be the same without you.”

After a while more of people watching and drinking hot chocolate, Ginny and Cath decided to wander down to the Great Hall to have lunch with some of the other girls in their year. Cath expected to see Harry down there since he hadn’t been able to attend Hogsmeade outings, but he was not in the Common Room or in the Great Hall.

Hagrid had set up the Christmas trees in the entrance hall and was now going to get two more. Professor Flitwick and Professor McGonagall were using charms and transfiguration to decorate each in Hogwarts house colours.

Unfortunately for Cath, she did not receive a letter from her parents the next day, and despite the several other letters she sent after, much to the chagrin of the owl she kept fastening letters to, did not receive a response until the day before the end of the term.

All it said was:

Cathryn,

We will talk about this when you return home.

***

Cath and Draco pushed their trolleys with their friends through the crowded Platform 9 3/4 and waited in the queue that was forming to exit to Platform 9. All of them were dressed in their warm winter clothes and were chatting excitedly about Christmas.

Cath couldn’t help but feel jealous that all of them were going to be spending the whole two weeks together having fun. She hated the feeling of missing out and wondered if Draco had tried to ask their parents or if he even wanted to join them.

“I think Father and I are going to catch a Quidditch game or two over the break,” Draco was drawling to Hermione.

“What team?” Ron interjected, immediately fascinated by the topic of conversation.

“Puddlemere United, of course,” Draco replied. “We have season passes.”

Cath felt embarrassed by his constant bragging as Ron’s face was overcome with jealousy. She didn’t know why Hermione seemed to find him so interesting.

“That sounds really enjoyable,” she replied. “I’ve never seen a regional team play before. Only our Hogwarts teams.”

“You haven’t?” Draco asked incredulously. “You have to come sometime.”

“There are Mum and Dad,” Ginny said, gesturing to where Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were standing, making conversation with another family. She turned back to Cath and Draco. “Let us know if your parents decide you can come.”

“I hope you can,” Hermione said. “It’s always so much fun at the Burrow.”

“I’ll talk them into it,” Cath said confidently, determined not to miss out on the fun.

“Come, Cathryn,” Draco said. “Mother and Father will be waiting for us.”

They said their goodbyes quickly before Cath and Draco continued to push their trolleys down the narrow corridors of the underground system. Their parents normally met them outside King’s Cross station, where they would help with their luggage and walk over to a store in Diagon Alley and use the Floo network to return home to Wiltshire.

“Did you ask about going to the Burrow?” Cath asked Draco.

“I tried sending a letter, but they never responded,” Draco said. “They probably prefer we stay at home during the break. They hardly get to see us during the year as it is.”

“I suppose…” Cath trailed off. “Do you think they don’t want us to go?”

Draco shrugged uncomfortably, causing Cath to think that he probably thought so. “Just drop it,” he said. “We’ll have a perfectly fine Christmas at home.”

Cath didn’t say anything else, but she certainly wasn’t going to drop it.

Just like always, their parents were waiting for them at the grand entrance of King’s Cross station. It was strange to see them without their regular clothes, but Cath knew that Muggles would be suspicious if they saw people wearing cloaks and robes or pointed hats.

Both their parents greeted them with a smile and helped them with their luggage. Between the four of them, they could carry everything. After returning the trolleys, they made their way outside, where snow was falling gently from the sky. The streets of London were decorated for Christmas, and as they entered Diagon Alley, the streetlights and storefronts were as well.

At last, the Malfoys made it back home. When Cath landed in the fireplace of Malfoy Manor, she couldn’t deny that it felt like home. She stepped out into the sitting room, making sure to dust off her feet before walking through and bringing her things up into her room.

Cath’s bedroom was large but fairly simple. The walls were painted an eggshell white. Against the wall opposite the door was her bed, a four-poster with a sage green bedspread and a beige throw blanket. On either side of her bed were two tall windows that let in the afternoon sun.

A large pine wardrobe sat against the wall to the left of the door. To the right was her small bathroom. The side of the room on which the door was, sat a small desk with a stack of books on it. Cath’s favorite part of her bedroom was the large wicker chair that hung from the ceiling. It was large enough that she could curl up on it and comfortable enough that she occasionally fell asleep while working on homework.

The curtains of her four-poster bed were white and billowy. It was so quiet; Cath had gotten used to sharing a dormitory with the seven other girls in her year. Though she did like her room here, it didn’t feel as warm as the Gryffindor dormitories, and Malfoy Manor as a whole lacked the coziness and charm of Gryffindor Tower.

Cath didn’t bother unpacking. Instead, she set her trunk on the ground and picked a book out of the small stack on her desk. Her mom had bought her a set of novels by a well-known witch for her tenth birthday. Cath had tried and tried countless times to read them, but teen romance novels were not exactly her speed.

The book she had selected from the series was called Meet Me at the Clock Tower. The cover showed a young couple kissing under the clock tower in Diagon Alley, a famous magical landmark. Two bookmarks peeking out about a quarter of the way and halfway through told Cath she had attempted to start this one several times.

From down the hall, she could hear Draco and her parents come up the stairs, presumably to drop off the remaining luggage. Cath flung the book onto her bed and looked out of her doorway. This was her chance to interrogate her parents about why they didn’t want her staying at the Burrow during the winter break.

Her mother walked towards Cath’s room with her other things. When she saw the book lying on Cath’s bed she smiled. “Reading those again? Don’t you think it’s time for some new books?”

Cath forced a smile. “Yeah… I suppose so.”

Her mother pushed her long hair over her shoulder and put Cath’s trunk on the bed. Cath opened her mouth but then hesitated. Before her mother left the room, she said, “Mother, I was just wondering if you and Father had given any more thought about… you know, going to the Weasley’s for a bit?”

Her mother stopped in the doorway, gave a small sigh, and then turned around. This time, her smile looked rather forced. “Darling, don’t you see your friends every day at school?”

Cath was beginning to feel very annoyed at this point. She just wanted a straight answer. “Why can’t I go? All of my friends will be there. I really don’t want to miss out!”

“You know, why don’t you try making some other friends? It’s nice to branch out a little bit, isn’t it darling?” Mother said, that fake smile still plastered on her face.

“But why?” Cath asked. She didn’t mean to, but her voice was beginning to rise.

“There are some things that you won’t fully understand until you’re older, you see. Your father and I both agree that… perhaps you should spend time with other people too,” Mother tried to explain, keeping her voice calm and in control.

Tears sprung to Cath’s eyes. She tended to cry when she felt angry. Perhaps it was time to try a different approach. “Please,” she pleaded, trying to use the tears to her advantage. “Please, mother, I just want to go for a few days.”

Her mother automatically put a hand on her shoulder to comfort Cath. Her sympathetic eyes told Cath that she was giving in. “I’ll… talk to your father,” she said, defeated.

“Oh, thank you!” Cath exclaimed, hugging her mother tightly.

She smoothed Cath’s hair before turning around to leave. Feeling satisfied, Cath jumped onto her bed, sinking into the soft feather mattress. Her mother was far easier to win over than her father.

A moment later, she heard someone else enter her room. Cath looked up and saw Draco leaning against her door frame, arms folded across his chest.

“That was a nice little show you put on there,” Draco said.

“I did it for both of us,” Cath said as if that were supposed to somehow justify it.

“Mother could never say no to you…” Draco said, looking slightly bitter as he said it.

“Well, good thing you have Father,” Cath retorted. “You know, it would help if you could ask him about staying at the Burrow.”

Draco shrugged, looking down. “Maybe.”

“Why have you been acting like that?” Cath asked, sitting up.

“Like what?” Draco asked defensively.

“You know,” Cath said. “Sometimes you’re all over Harry, Ron, and Hermione, and sometimes you avoid them. I don’t get it.”

She could tell she was right; Draco frowned and dropped his arms to his sides. “Whatever, Cath.”

“Ask Father!” she called after him as he turned and went back to his room. Cath lay back down, staring up at the covering of her four-poster. She was already bored. Her friends were no doubt having the time of their lives at the Burrow… probably playing games, eating treats, having snowball fights…

Cath drifted off into a light sleep. She had no idea how long she had slept for when she awoke to Draco hitting her with a pillow.

“Draco!” she groaned.

“Supper is ready,” he said, tossing the pillow back on her bead.

Cath sat up and gathered her hair into a tail and changed into some more comfortable lounge clothes. Their house always seemed so cold, no matter how much Cath bundled up. Her footsteps echoed on the hardwood floor as she made her way across the hall and down the long, curved staircase to the first floor.

She breathed in the smell of food wafting from the kitchen, catching hints of thyme and red wine. Her parents and Draco were already seated, and their House Elves were sending platters of food floating over to the dining table.

Cath always thought their dining table was far too long. It seated at least twelve people and looked rather silly with just the four of them taking up the end. Above their heads was a grand chandelier that had been in the Malfoy family for centuries, according to her father. The teardrop-shaped crystals reflected the flickering candlelight.

On the table was roast beef with carrots and potatoes, and a loaf of steaming hot bread wrapped in a cloth to keep warm. The smell made Cath realize just how hungry she was. Her parents sipped dark red wine from antique goblets.

Her father cleared his throat and Draco and Cath both looked up at them. Meals were more or less void of conversation, so whatever their father was about to say must be important.

“Your mother and I have decided to allow you to visit the Weasleys,” he said. It sounded as though the sentence was incredibly hard for him to get out.

Cath’s eyes widened in delight.

“For two nights,” he continued. “After Christmas day.”

“Oh, thank you!” Cath exclaimed. “Thank you so much!”

Her father forced a smile and nodded, taking a gulp of wine. Their mother was delicately cutting her carrots and potatoes, glancing over to their father.

Cath could tell that Draco was excited but trying to act nonchalantly as he buttered a slice of bread. She had always looked forward to Christmas, but now she wanted to skip right past it so that she could be with her friends at the Burrow.

***

As predicted, the first week of Christmas break was quiet and rather boring. Cath’s parents had a few families over and made her spend time with their friends’ children while they were over. Draco enjoyed bossing Vincent and Gregory around, but Cath had absolutely nothing in common with Corban and Lysandra Yaxley’s daughter Clara, who was a Second Year in Slytherin house.

Clara was a very pretty girl with blonde hair that fell in neat curls at her collar bone. She was very fair-skinned, which made her full pink lips stand out. Clara was graceful and poised. Her every movement was fluid and precise as if she were a ballerina. She was at least a head taller than Cath, who felt awkward and clumsy compared to her.

Cath didn’t know what to talk about and felt stupid just sitting across from her trying not to stare too much. The two of them attempted to play a rather half-hearted game of wizard’s chess before they both resigned themselves to sitting in silence, awkwardly sipping on tea. Cath’s father seemed particularly disappointed that Cath hadn’t become immediate best friends with Clara and encouraged her to try harder when she was back at school.

It was finally the day after Christmas. Cath had scribbled a quick note to Ginny on the day their parents gave her and Draco permission to stay with them for a few days. At ten o’clock sharp, Cath was in the sitting room holding a bag with everything she needed for two days. Draco came in a few minutes later, followed by their parents.

“Are you sure you don’t want to eat breakfast here?” Mother asked. She smoothed Cath’s hair behind her ears as she often did.

“I’m fine,” Cath said confidently. “Well, bye! Thanks again for letting us go.” She hugged both of her parents, genuinely grateful.

“Behave yourselves,” Father said.

Without another word, Cath stepped into the grand fireplace, took a handful of Floo powder, and said confidently, “The Burrow!”

She squeezed her eyes shut as she began to shoot away, keeping her arms close to herself and trying to remain as still as possible so she didn’t end up in someone else’s fireplace. Moments later, her feet landed on solid ground and she stumbled out of the hearth into a small, cramped sitting room.

Cath looked around. She felt as though she were in the most comforting, warm home. Compared to hers, where everything seemed cold and quiet, the Burrow was colorful, warm, and alive. A charmed feather duster glided around, and knitted blankets seemed to cover every sofa and piece of furniture. In the corner to her left was a huge Christmas tree, decorated with a variety of ornaments, including pictures of the Weasley children. The walls were a warm yellow, and on one was a massive clock with many hands, one for each member of the family. All of the arrows but two, who Cath had never met, were pointed at “Home.”

The kitchen was in view, and Cath saw the dishes being washed by themselves, as well as a washcloth wiping surfaces. She could hear muffled voices from upstairs. Cath walked tentatively towards the staircase. She looked up and saw that it looked as though different stories were added to the house at different times; all of the landings were uneven and differently shaped.

She heard a poof from behind her and heard Draco approach her. He looked around with a rather unpleasant look on his face.

“They must be very poor,” he remarked.

Cath felt angry and protective, but before she had the chance to respond, she heard footsteps above her. She looked up and saw Ginny standing at the top of one of the landings.

“Cath! You’re here!” she exclaimed.

“Who’s here?” said someone from about three floors up. Fred and George came into view. “Oh! Hello, Malfoys.”

Hermione burst out of a room and hurried down the stairs. “Oh, I’m so thrilled you both could come!” she exclaimed. She gave both of them a hug, causing Draco’s face to flush slightly. “Did you have a nice Christmas?” she asked.

“It was nice,” Draco replied. He looked a lot more relaxed now.

“Harry, Ron!” Ginny called up the stairs.

The boys came out of a room from the floor above Ginny and saw Cath and Draco. Harry looked incredibly happy. From the little she had heard about his aunt and uncle, Cath was sure that being at the Burrow for Christmas was like heaven.

“Cath, fancy a game of Exploding Snap?” George said, with a look that said he knew she wasn’t going to turn him down.

“Obviously,” she replied.

All of them found a spot in the small living room. While the game was being set up, Cath leaned over to Ginny and asked, “Gin, who are the other two on the clock?”

She pointed to the big clock where Bill and Charlie were away.

“Bill is our oldest brother,” Ginny explained. “He’s five years older than Percy. He works in Egypt as a curse breaker for Gringott’s bank. And Charlie is two years younger than him. He trains dragons in Romania.”

“Are they here?” Cath asked.

Ginny shook her head sadly. “They haven’t been home for Christmas for two years. But we did get to visit Bill in Egypt last summer. Mum always tries to convince them to come home, but they’re having the time of their lives.”

Cath admitted that they both sounded incredibly cool. About halfway into the game, the front door opened, and Mr. and Mrs. Weasley came in with their arms laden with bags and parcels. They set everything down in the entrance, and Mrs. Weasley waved her wand at all the bags, which began to float into the kitchen and unpack themselves. Carrots, potatoes, onions, celery, apples, and cranberries all washed themselves in the sink while canned and dry goods flew into cupboards and pantries.

“Oh, the Malfoys are here!” Molly exclaimed to Arthur. She came into the living room, stretching her arms out for a hug. Cath, though surprised, received her nearly bone-crushing embrace. Not even Draco could get away. “We’re so thrilled you could join us for a few days. Have you had breakfast? You look hungry.”

“We're fine,” Cath replied politely.

“I’m starving,” Draco said at the exact same time.

“And good heavens, it’s nearly lunchtime! Let me set out some tea and biscuits to hold you over,” she said, hurrying back to the kitchen.

Mr. Weasley stopped her and took off her scarf, coat, and wool hat for her before she went to business. He nodded politely at Cath and Draco as he hung both his and Molly’s outerwear on a coatrack that was already dangerously close to falling over on account of all the jackets and scarfs hanging on its many arms.

“It’s a pleasure to have you,” he said over the noise of the game. “I trust you had a nice Christmas?”

"Very nice, thank you,” Cath replied. “Thank you so much for letting us stay.”

"Of course,” Mr. Weasley smiled. “Any friend of Ron and Ginny’s is a friend of ours.”

Moments later, a fresh pot of tea and some biscuits were making their way to the coffee table. As everyone poured themselves a cup, Cath couldn’t think of a better way to spend Christmas break than with all of her friends in one room.

[period-dramallama]

Spanish Princess episode 7: the episode that had no right to be as good as it was

Come with meeeeeeeeee and you’ll beeeeeeeeeee in a wooooooooooooooooooorld of English Reformation~

-OK I had a lot of thoughts on how this ep handled Protestantism but the TLDR is: they misunderstood the theology of it, IMHO, but they actually were much more balanced than I was expecting.

-Maybe it’s my bias, but the printing press scenes were awesome. 

-the word ‘Protestant’ is being used 30 years too soon- but I get why they’re using it.

-”You’re dead Sassenach” some people have pointed out the guy called that is a Scot but I think the boy’s just using it as an insult and they’re play-fighting so I think he’s pretending his opponent is English Scum just as Hal Stewart’s pretending to be killed

-Accuracy! Thomas More did indeed lead a raid on the Steelyard, IIRC, though again it’s prob happening too soon, and he’s not undersheriff any more. They continue to knit sweaters out of the thread of linear time

-”the answer does not lie in here but in there,” I was highkey worried Henry was going to point at his own testicles.

-Please get Henry a barber. He has superglued a party city wig to his own face.

-”we were going after deer!” he sounds so much like a spoiled child i have to laugh

-the way Georgie says NO i love the inflection so much, I should make it my text alert for my least favourite people.

-”She creates bad humour in our land” “You mean she’s rude about your poetry?” “SO RUDE *sobs*”

-Wolsey has a reputation for relative tolerance and inaction on heresy, but historians seem to be finding that he was more invested in punishing heresy than previous histories and depictions (eg Wolf Hall) have shown. (At least so far as it was his job to do). He’s still hella villainized in this show.

-Allying with Angus? Sounds like Bad Decision #785

-CGI London looks way too big for a city of ~70,000 people

-Lina, I love you, but it has never been safe for a woman to walk around London alone at night. Not in 2020, 1820, or 1520. Especially before the invention of street lamps.

You can tell this episode was written by men

-”an army is for valiant purpose” Oviedo I love you but you’re a soldier, you’ve seen wars fought for political gain and not for moral reasons. Why you only shocked now? You should be more concerned that you’re attacking civilians instead of fellow militarymen.

-”what are you doing in the church?” “bitch i live here”

-”where are your ladies?” good question

-”it’s her own soul she risks, not mine” when you’re so selfish you accidentally become the most religiously tolerant person in the room.

-Wolsey’s face was a joy this episode. I want to make a moodboard of his beautiful sassy faces.

-the way Wolsey said “Thomas...” at More and Maggie looked angry... I think she was thinking “Really? You’re going to steal MY man now?!”

-why’s Henry Pole guarding More?? He’s a baron?? He outranks More??

-”maybe even have some lemon cake” it’s official, Margaret Pole is Sansa Stark

-”bathe me better and I will relax” she is literally a toddler omg

-”I have bathed you for years, no lady could do better” you can say that again, any other lady would have dunked katherine’s head under the water by now

-”to love the king why do you have to hate so many others” 

what happened?? the lines?? are so good?? i am SHOOKETH

-shot of the wavering compass...heavy-handed but i loved it

-Ursula geeking out over her garden :’) i get it girl i got into gardening myself this year.

-”my wife is the only sight I care for” *smooch* the second man in England to have rights! Thank god they’re so in love, given the real couple were married for 40 years. (They totally left the room to go make out, didn’t they.)

-Raiders of the Lost Inheritance Deeds

-WHERE ARE THE BOLEYN GIRLS?? THESE ARE STARTING TO BE THE YEARS THEY’RE AT COURT??

-God Stephenie was amazing this episode. I felt her pain, she became such a more well-rounded character, I’m so glad she got to speak her mind to Catherine instead of continuing to simp for her and excuse her behaviour. If she betrays her secret next episode, her character arc will be complete. Also, after whitewashing Isabella’s actions as Gurl Powah, it’s so refreshing to have Lina call out religious persecution of all flavours, not just against Lutherans. 

-”my own husband?” Lina...did you just... tell Catherine your husband isn’t Christian? Run?

-My theory was correct! TSP!KOA is indeed trying to be her mother!

-”ugly altar boys” Aardvark is on FIRE this episode. Everyone is bringing their snark game.

-good use of spooky strings

-mention of humours! Accuracy point! Also I’m glad that Katherine hanging out in her nightdress with men was called out for being hella sus in the Tudor worldview.

-the whole torture dungeon reveal reminded me of a similar scene in the 1999 movie Sleepy Hollow, but apart from that, it was perfect. No dialogue, just the camera, the props and Laura, and you tell the whole story with her face. This is why show don’t tell is so important!

-yes i am biased bc i never liked the ship, but the break up scene was great, for both their characters: More’s allowed to explain his worldview and Maggie is able to call him out. Also it answered the question “why Thomas More and not some tutor OC?” I’m not sure the bombshell justifies writing their romance, but at least it explains its existence. At least it built to some Juicy Drama. 

-poor Maggie though. The man she wants to sleep with won’t sleep with her, the man who wants to sleep with her she doesn’t want. Then she befriends both of them, only to lose their friendship when one dies of the plague and the other she wishes died of the plague because he’s terrible. Also her cousins keep being executed, her daughter’s terrified, and her son is way too fond of violence. Give the girl a hug.

-”watch your step” yeah we wouldn’t want you to get a splinter on your way to get your head lopped off. That would really suck. 

-the way the crowd groaned when henry’s letter was read out... they sounded like football fans when their team misses a goal.

-”Henry” just henry? not henry the king? No “PS: I’m so random lol” “PS: blow a kiss to Wolsey” No “Henry ex-oh-ex-oh-ex-oh”

-the obligatory gross thing obvs is the sideways beheading. His head bounces!

TLDR: By far and away, the best ep in the show so far in my opinion. It almost feels like it’s set in the sixteenth century. The history was still dodgy af, and so was much of the dialogue, but the drama was much more solid and less plot-holey, the pacing was good, and the foolish mistakes of Stafford and Catherine had actual consequences for the plot, the actors knocked it out of the park, some of the lines were accidentally brilliant. 

[shadowhuntertrash]

High Notes

Chapter One

Characters belong to Cassandra Clare

Thomas almost screamed when his alarm went off. Yesterday had been one of his best friends, Matthew Fairchild’s, twenty first birthday. It would be stupid to say it was Matthew’s first drink but they went out and celebrated his ability to legally drink anyway. Thomas almost never drank but since his cousin Christopher was still underage and his sister Anna was there he knew one of them would be able to drive them home.

   He was currently cussing his drunk self out in every language he could for not turning his stupid alarm off. He slammed his hand on his alarm and was greeted by the sound of someone puking in the bathroom and Matthew cursing the gods before turning his cursing to Thomas. Thomas could hear Christopher laughing in his room.

   He and his three best friends shared a four room apartment together. It was a simple apartment with a living room and a kitchenette in the middle and two hallways off the sides. Down one hallway was a door to a bathroom with two doors on either side. One of which belonged to Matthew Fairchild and the other to James Herondale’s. You would find the same if you went down the other hall, but instead of Matthew and James’ room you would find Christopher and Thomas’.

   “Thomas Lightwood I might kill you if the thought of opening my eyes didn’t make me want to throw up!” Matthew yelled from his side of the room. The pounding in his head worsened and he just groaned back in response. “God dammit Math stop screaming.” He could hear James’ voice coming from the bathroom and realized that it must have been James throwing up. He heard shuffling from their side of the house and then Matthew’s now considerably quieter voice talking to James. “I’m sorry Jamie are you okay?” 

   Thomas sighed and let Matthew worry about his boyfriend. James and Matthew had been best friends since 6th grade and they had been dating for about 5 months now. Everyone had thrown a party when they had finally got together. Everyone knew it was coming but the idiots were too oblivious to believe the other liked them. 

   Thomas got up and walked to the kitchen where he found his cousin, Christopher. Kit smiled at him and put a glass of water and some pain meds in his hand. Thomas smiled appreciatively at his cousin. “God I knew there was a reason we kept you around Kit.” Christopher laughed and Thomas greedily threw the medicine back and swallowed it with a gulp of water.

   Thomas thanked him and walked back to his room. The house stayed quiet for about four hours until someone started banging on the door which set off another round of groans. The four hours of quiet they got helped everyone’s hang over but the insistence banging was not doing wonders for their heads. 

   Christopher laughed again looking unfairly chipper. Thomas walked into the living room as Christopher opened the door to see Lucie Herondale, James’ sister, and Cordelia Carstairs, Lucie’s best friend. They barged in with wide smiles on their faces. “Thomas!” Lucie said cheerily before running up to him and throwing her arms around him. Thomas let out a surprised ‘oof!’ before hugging her tightly back. 

   Thomas had two older sisters but they had never been close. He was very close to his parents but his sisters had always kept to himself. His parents were very close with his friends' parents. His father, Gideon, and Christopher’s father, Gabriel, were brothers. Christpher’s mother was James and Lucie’s aunt. Christopher and his older sister, Anna, were James, Lucie, and Thomas’ cousin. Lucie and James’ parents, Will and Tessa, were best friends with Jem Carstairs who was Cordelia and Alastair’s, Cordelia’s older brother, cousin. Jem had taken Cordelia and Alastair in when they’re mother died. They’re father had left when Cordelia was born. It was all a bit confusing but Thomas considered them all family. Well almost all of them.

    Alastair was a different story. Thomas had been in love with Alastair since he was 15, now here he was 6 years later still simping over the boy he would never be able to have. He didn’t mind though. His mother had taught him that it didn’t matter who he loved as long as they deserved it. Alastair was not a very kind person but Thomas was one of the only ones who ever saw past that, through his rough exterior to the kind person he was on the inside.

   Just because Thomas could see Alastair didn’t make them friends though. They were acquaintances of course since his sister figure was in a band with Cordelia. They were all musically inclined.

   Lucie and Cordelia both sang and played guitar. They had started a band with just the two of them when they were 16 around the same time Thomas, Matthew, James, and Christopher started theirs. The girls had named their band The Beautiful Cordelia as a joke but it quickly caught on. The four boys created their band which they named The Merry Thieves after Lucie’s nickname for them as children. Matthew had an amazing voice and occasionally played the piano, James was an amazing drummer, Thomas played guitar and he wrote their songs, Christopher played the bass guitar for them.

   Cordelia’s older brother, Alastair, was a solo artist who wrote his own songs and performed them. Thomas had never heard a voice as great as his. It was raspy whereas Matthew’s was smooth. Alastair had so much more emotion than Thomas could even dream of singing with.

   Thomas was brought back to the present when Lucie pulled back and laid a hand on his forehead. “Darling are you feeling okay?” Lucie gave just about everyone a nickname and for some reason instead of Tom or something of the like she simply called him Darling. At first everyone was shocked because they thought that meant that him and Lucie were dating but they quickly squashed those rumors.

   Thomas grumbles in response to her question. She raises one eyebrow and Thomas feels a jolt of jealousy go through him. He’d never been able to do that. “He’s fine, just hung over. They had lots of fun last night.” Christopher said, smirking, Thomas glared at him. He lifted his eyes to look at Cordelia. She was in a pretty white sundress with flowers on it. She had open toed sandals on and her toenails were freshly painted. Thomas flashes her a smile that she returns quickly.

   “Hello Cordelia.” She rolls her eyes. Thomas was the only one who called her by her full name and most people were under the impression it was meant to be teasing but honestly Thomas just found her name beautiful and incredibly underused. “Hello Thomas. If you don’t mind would you get the other boys? We have some news!” I nod and turn to go get them. 

   They were in Matthew’s room now. The door was slightly ajar and from Thomas’ vantage point he could see James was sitting criss cross at the head of Matthew’s bed, he still looked slightly sick but he was smiling down at Matthew who had laid haphazardly down on the bed with his head in James’ lap. His eyes were closed but he had a smile on his face. I knock on the door not wanting to barge in.

   James turned to look at him and Matthew opened his eyes. “Lucie and Cordelia would like to tell us something.” James nods and Matthew stretches before climbing off the bed. He turns and reaches a hand out to help James up. James grabs it and interlocks their fingers. Thomas sighed quietly. He wanted that, more so than he would ever willingly admit.

   The boys walk into the living room, Thomas a few steps in front of James and Matthew. James goes to hug his sister and Matthew hugs Cordelia. Matthew and Cordelia were rather close because she had let him rant about James to her when he was pining. “What brings you to our beautiful home ladies?” Matthew said enthusiastically, Thomas had a strong suspicion that Matthew wasn’t even hung over. He had a very high tolerance for drinks. 

   Cordelia and Lucie shared a bright smile. “Well,” Lucie started her smile getting bigger as she talked. “As you know all of our music has been taking off.” They all nod acknowledging the statement. It was true their music was getting big. It was even being played on the radio. They had each released an album. 

   Lucie smiled at Cordelia again and Cordelia took over talking. “So we’ve been talking with our manager and we were wondering if you guys wanted to go on tour with us?” There was a collective gasp and it was silent for a second before everyone started talking over one another. “You’re kidding! This is a joke!” Matthew. “Yes! Yes yes yes! YES!” James. “For how long?” Christopher.

   The girls laugh. “I can guarantee you this is not a joke. It would be for five months. And it would be split evenly between the three of us.” There was a round of cheers and Thomas watched as Matthew shot up and tackled Lucie and Cordelia where they were on the couch. “Oh my god you are my favorite people on earth!” Cordelia giggled and James smacked him on the back of the head. 

   Matthew pulled away pouting at James and rubbing his head. “After you of course Jamie.” James rolled his eyes and pulled his sister and Cordelia in a hug as well, granted much gentler than Matthew had. “Thank you so much.” He said quietly the girls gave him a soft look and hugged him back.

   The girls got up and started walking to the door. “I would start getting ready if I was you. We leave in a week.” Lucie said with a wink Matthew paled and put a hand to his forehead dramatically. “Lucie! You can’t spring this on me and only give me a week to get everything together!” Lucie laughed. “Calm down Matthew! You just have to pick comfy clothes and the costume people will pick our concert attire.” Matthew nods seemingly relaxing at the thought. 

   The girls were almost to the door when a thought occurred to Thomas. “Girls?” They turn to look at him waiting for him to continue. “You said it was split evenly between three? Who else is going with us?” Lucie and Cordelia seemed to have a silent conversation before reaching a conclusion. Cordelia was the one to answer. “My brother.”

   Thomas stared at them blankly. Cordelia’s brother. Alastair. Thomas groaned internally. He was so screwed. 

[galactic-magick]

Not So Different: Virgil x Reader

Request: Can I get uhh new side (Pride?) Who is female and everyone is surprised and it's virgil x reader and lots of him being jealous even tho u aren't together and angst and him being the big spoon and stuff ty mwah (sorry if this is badly written I'm going on 1 hours of sleep in the past 2 days hahaha okay - @hhh-angels​

Summary: You are Thomas’s prideful side, and you immediately bond with Roman for obvious reasons. Virgil doesn’t like that very much…

Words: 1400+

Warnings: angst, jealousy

Author’s Notes: I hope you like this! There’s a few time-skips cuz I wanted it to be kinda slow-burn and build up the angst lol. (Also I’d just like to say there is no Roman hate here! He’s kinda viewed as the bad guy in this but I promise I love him plz don’t come after me)

-

-

-

“Hi!” you pop up next to Roman, waving to Thomas. Everyone jumps, but you’re so happy to actually be here that you don’t mind their intense reaction. Deceit’s done a great job at hiding you for years, and you’re finally getting to reveal your existence.

You represent Thomas’s pride. You’re not really either a light or dark side, since pride can be used in so many different ways. Pride can be used for good, such as when Thomas is confident in his achievements, ideas, and sexuality. But if it gets too strong, it can become an issue. Excessive pride can lead to being self-absorbed, insensitive, and arrogant, and unfortunately that may be the reason you’re here.

“I’m sorry, who are you?” Thomas asks.

“I’m your pride!” you grin. “But you can just call be Y/N,”

Roman looks you up and down, “But, why are you-?”

“A girl? I just felt like presenting myself this way. Do you need me to change?”

“No, no, of course not! We can sing Disney duets together!” You and Roman immediately start singing “A Whole New World.”

Virgil rolls his eyes.

Thomas stares in disbelief, “I’m still confused, why are you here? Where did you come from?”

“You tell me, Thomas,” you laugh, continuing to sing with Roman.

“Did you guys know about her?”

“Not particularly, no,” Logan and the other sides shake their heads.

“Virgil? Is she another dark side?”

“Not exactly,” he sighs. “But I- I should’ve been able to stop her,”

“Why?”

“Yeah, why, Virgil?” your singing stops and you meet his gaze.

“I’m the one who’s supposed to balance out Thomas’s ego with self-consciousness and insecurity,”

“Who needs that,” Roman scoffs.

“Actually, he does need it,” Logan corrects, pulling up a chart. “Think of it as a modified Yerkes-Dodson curve. With anxiety, one side of the extreme is complete carelessness, and the other is full-on panic. With pride, one side would be self-loathing, and the other would be narcissism. Ideally, everyone should be in the middle, having confidence in yourself but not so much that you become ignorant or put others down,”

“Is she here because…I’m on the second side?”

“Oh no…” Patton mumbles.

“Nonsense! I see nothing wrong with Y/N being here,” Roman objects, draping an arm around your shoulders. Virgil cringes a bit.

“Technically, Roman is correct,” Logan admits hesitantly. “As long as you don’t listen to her excessively, nothing detrimental will come of her presence,”

“Okay…” Thomas exhales.

“Her getting too close to Roman is what you really need to worry about,” Virgil grumbles.

“Hey! I thought you guys were past this?”

“Maybe not,”

“Well fine, Virgil, we’ll go if you have such a big problem with us,” Roman sneers, taking your hand and sinking down.

 -

 Over the next few weeks, you and Roman have become best friends. You’ve written approximately 15 musicals together now, sung every single Disney song multiple times, and have brainstormed millions of ideas on how to help Thomas achieve his dreams in the most extravagant way possible.

“I don’t know how much longer I can take this obnoxious behavior,” Logan closes his book and slams it on the table. You and Roman are very loudly reenacting Hamilton in his room at the moment, and the noise is filling the entire mind palace.

“They’re just having fun, Logan!” Patton shrugs, playing some Go Fish with Virgil.

“Come on, Patton, you know Roman’s just going to corrupt her,” Virgil groans.

“Now, Virgil, I may have had my doubts before but there’s no need to be mean,”

“I’ve had it,” Logan stands up and stomps over to Roman’s door. “CAN I PLEASE HAVE SOME PEACE AND QUIET FOR THIRTY MINUTES?!”

With that, no one so much as breathes loudly for the rest of the day.

 -

 It’s probably way past midnight now, but you still can’t sleep. You head to the kitchen to grab a snack, jumping when you see Virgil there as well.

“What are you doing here?” you shriek.

“I could ask you the same thing,”

“I suppose so,” you grin, hoisting yourself up to sit on the counter. “I guess I wouldn’t mind the company,”

“I usually come down here to be alone,”

“Look, I know you hate me, but you could just kindly ask me to leave,”

“I don’t hate you,”

“You don’t?”

“No!” he sighs, rubbing his eyes. “Are you really so self-absorbed that you think if people aren’t all over you they hate you?”

“Excuse me?” you shoot back. “I’m pretty sure you directly said you didn’t want me around!”

“I did not say that. I said you need to be under control, and teaming up with Roman is not going to help that,”

“What’s wrong with Roman?”

“Can’t you see he’s using you? He only likes you because you’re so similar and you can sing princess songs with him!”

“And how is that bad, exactly?” you retaliate. “He’s the only one who’s been nice to me since I got here, so sorry if my choice in friends isn’t to your standards,”

“It’s just-“

“You know what, Virgil? I really thought we would get along. We both have the capacity for good and evil, and we both help to balance Thomas out. We have a lot more in common than you think,” you slide off the counter and walk out.

 -

 You and Virgil don’t speak for a while after that. Not that you talked a lot before, but that fight really solidified things. You can’t even make eye contact with each other, it’s like you’re not even there.

Roman keeps asking you what’s wrong, but you just shrug him off. How are you supposed to tell him that he’s part of the problem? That maybe if you weren’t so close, Virgil would consider talking to you?

You never meant any harm when you revealed yourself. You really thought you’d be able to get along with all the sides, but it seems that Roman’s the only one who celebrates who you are. Logan barely tolerates you, and that’s only when you’re not being obnoxious with Roman. Patton’s alright with you, but he gets a little jittery if you suggest anything that compromises his morals. And then there’s Virgil, and you know how that’s going.

You don’t really feel like you have to apologize, it’s not in your nature anyway, but you’re sick of having to avoid him all the time now. You need to talk to him again whether he likes it or not.

You swing open the door to his room without knocking and sit on the bed, “Hi,”

“Is privacy just something you don’t understand?”

“It appears so,” you laugh. “Look Virgil, I know you’re mad at me, and honestly I’m mad at you too, but I don’t want to be anymore,” You take a deep breath, “I like you. I wish we had a better start, but I’m willing to start over,”

“Are you serious?”

“Yes,” you scoot closer to him. “And I told Roman to leave us alone for the rest of the day, so don’t worry about him,”

“You didn’t have to do that,”

“I know I didn’t. But I did. So do you want to hang out or not?”

“I guess so-“ before he can finish, you grab his hand and drag him out of his room to the main area of the mind palace.

“You pick a movie, I’m gonna go steal some of Patton’s cookies,” Virgil watches you, stunned, before flopping on the couch and scrolling through the selection. He starts one as you sit down next to him, handing him some cookies.

“Just want to make sure, you actually want to hang out with me?”

“Yes, Virgil. If I didn’t I wouldn’t have asked,” you drape a blanket over the two of you and settle in.

As the movie goes on, you subconsciously rest your head on his shoulder. He stiffens immediately and you jerk back up.

“Oh my gosh I’m so sorry-“

“N-no, it’s fine,” he releases his breath. “I’m just…not used to people doing that,”

By the time the movie’s over, you’re fully asleep and Virgil freezes again, unsure what to do. Should he carry you to your room? Leave you here to sleep? Wake you up?

He slowly wraps his arms around your waist and lies down with you, being careful not to make any sudden movements. Despite his efforts, you squirm a bit in your sleep, but thankfully you don’t open your eyes. He fits his chin in the crook of your neck and dozes off himself.

He knows you didn’t have to give him a second chance, but you did. You were right, you weren’t so different after all, and he’ll always be thankful for the opportunity to be something more to you.

[fieryfantasybooklover]

Only For You - A Logicality fluff fic

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

Patton was sick. He didn’t want to admit it, but he was sick. Refusing to compromise Thomas or the other sides, Patton stumbled around the mindsphere like a zombie, sniffling and coughing. Despite the concern shown by his friends, Patton stubbornly refused to rest, claiming “I’m not sick kiddos! I just have a little congestion and sniffles! Now, who wants to bake cookies?”

This went on for days before Logan finally snapped. Gathering all the other sides to him, Logan gave them explicit instructions “Virgil, you try to give Patton anxiety to make him stay in bed. Roman, guilt him into resting. Janus… just try to hang out around him. Remus… Be yourself. I will use facts. We must make sure Patton gets better.”

“Well, it ssssssounds like somebody has a little crush.” Janus smirked as he drummed his fingers on the table as Logan turned bright red. “I don’t see why I must be the one to repel him. I have never done nothing to-”

“Hey hey! I do not tolerate arguing. Everyone do the job I gave you. Patton will get better or so help me.”

It didn’t take long for Patton to give in. Logan’s plan went off expertly and within 2 days Patton was in bedrest. And of course, Logan was unwilling to let him rest alone…. for technical reasons of course. Patton woke up Saturday morning to Logan scrambling around, preparing breakfast in bed, movies, medicine, and blankets. “Logan… you know I only have the flu right? This isn’t n-necessary.” Patton said scratchily as he sat up and stretched. “You can go and work if you want-”

"No! Stop talking, just get better and maybe I won’t fall into a pit of eternal regret.” Patton, sensing a danger point, stopped talking and allowed Logan to hand him a tray of eggs, bacon, biscuits, and a glass of orange juice. “Now, eat! Eat and I won’t have to sic Janus on you.” Logan stated matter-of-factly before placing a tender kiss on Patton’s head, turning, and leaving after tossing back the phrase “I’m going to get more blankets!”

Patton, melting into a puddle of joy, ate his breakfast with a huge grin on his face. “Oh my goodness Logi is so cuteeee when he’s concerned. He’ll deny it but he is most definitely. I should become sick more often.” Patton thought as he giggled and blushed. Meanwhile, Logan was busy being a disaster in the main lounge.

“Oh god. Do you think he has some terrible disease? Do we need to go to the hospital? How did he even get sick in the first place??” Logan frantically wondered out loud to the other sides.

Janus shook his head, internally shaking with laughter as he thought “By god, this man is unbelievably smitten. I suppose I’ll have to sit by and watch this unfold.” Out loud however, all Janus said was “Logan I hope you recall that Patton can’t die. He’s going to be fine.”

Roman didn’t hold back, belting out his laughter as he choked out “Oh Logan. You’re hopeless oh my god.”

Virgil just silently sat there smirking, massively enjoying Logan and Roman making fools of themselves.

And finally there was Remus. Who was munching on deodorant while suggesting that Logan season Patton’s lunch with shaving cream.

Storming out of the room in true Logan fashion, he snapped back at them “You all are hopeless. I don’t even know why I try.” which was followed by hysterical laughter and even a rare appearance of Virgil’s laugh. Returning to Patton’s room to check on him, Logan forced away his blush and pulled up his professional attitude again. However, that attitude would not last long when Logan viewed the sight within Patton’s room.

Patton was shivering even under the weight of dozens of blankets, shaking and trembling. Logan bolted to the side of Patton’s bed and laid a hand gently on his head. “Oh my god he’s burning up. What do I do, what do I do. Ok Logan it’s ok remain calm. He’s going to be ok.” Logan was almost always calm and rational but for whatever reason the sight of Patton burning up with a fever through all logical thought out of his mind. Logan rushed around, gathering cool cloths. The fever wasn’t life threatening, so Logan didn’t want to risk using medicine that wouldn’t work.

Patton shifted in his fever-induced slumber, murmuring indecipherable words and jumbled sentences. Logan, finally with everything he needed, pulled up a chair and parked himself next to Patton. Gently brushing the other’s messy hair off his forehead, Logan laid a wet cool cloth across his forehead and adjusted the pillows. However, all action would be halted when Patton’s murmurings became clear.

“Logi? Logi is that you? I don’t feel really good… but I know I’ll be ok because I have you here to take care of me. I know you’ll always be here for me…. You’re amazing and deserve so much appreciation.” Patton shifted and began talking again. “Do you know how cute you are? I don’t think you know… it’s a shame really. I really like you and have for a while… you’re so cute and nice and funny… but I don’t think you like me. It’s ok. You deserve whoever makes you happy.”

Logan felt himself turning steadily redder as he struggled to keep his emotions in check. Despite Logan’s efforts, he felt himself slowly thawing as he looked at Patton, feeling his heart warm and began to feel butterflies leap in his stomach. “Oh Patton. If only you knew how much you affect me. If only you knew how much you fill my thoughts and shape my actions. If only you knew how breathtaking you are.” Logan sighed and allowed all the feelings he suppressed to bubble up and fill him. He knew in his soul that Patton would be his undoing and he didn’t even care.

Snuggling up to Patton, Logan wrapped his arms around the other man and held him tight. For once in Logan’s life he didn’t care what the others saw. He didn’t care what they thought. Patton stirred again as Logan settled in beside him. “Lo? Is that you? You know you don’t have to do this right? Why are you even doing this? You wouldn’t for the others…”

Logan pressed a tender kiss to Patton’s forehead before whispering “Only for you, Patton. Only for you.” With that, Logan began singing a tender lullaby to lull Patton to sleep.

Though Logan didn’t notice, all the other sides were watching at the door and massively touched at the show of affection from the ordinarily stoic side.

Roman was practically cooing at the cuteness, thinking “Oh my gosh this is amazing! Logan is pursuing his dreams!” and also simultaneously planning multiple ways to prank him.

Remus was debating whether or not dropping mustard-mayonnaise bombs on them would be worth Logan’s reaction.

And finally, Virgil and Janus. Both turned to each other with soft happy smiles. Nodding in solidarity, both had the same thought - “Took him long enough.”

So that is how the day ended. Logan and Patton asleep in each other’s arms, with all the other sides watching. Each with their own degree of unique happiness, whatever the reason might be.

[chaoticpanenergy]

Alright, Sanders Sides fandom (+ Six the Musical fandom). 

I watched this *ahem* neato slime tutorial about Six the Musical and then listened to the soundtrack on Spotify and then overanalyzed the lyrics on genius.com and I have a lot of emotions about this story. So what do I do? I make a Sanders Sides au/analysis for it, obviously, putting WAY too much thought into different interpretations of which side could be which queen. Let’s jump in.

Catherine of Aragon

Catherine in the golden-yellow and black costume. Catherine who knows when she is lied to. Catherine who puts herself first when it comes down to it. Catherine who deals with disrespect but knows her worth anyway. Catherine who “keeps her cool” and stays in control of herself. Catherine must be Janus, lord of the lies, self-preservation, whose calm facade has cracked so rarely.

But then again, Catherine is a leader. Catherine is concerned with loyalty, and what is right and wrong, and that is why she stands up against the divorce—it is wrong of Henry to divorce her, according to her morals. Catherine can swallow her pride, and Catherine seeks a solution to the last, giving Henry so many chances. Catherine handles her situation with grace. Catherine must be Patton, the Hufflepuff, Morality, loving and kind and endlessly forgiving, always trying to do what is right and guide others to do the same.

But then again, Catherine strives to “keep her cool.” To look at things with a level head. She speaks up and reasons with Henry, and in return asks for his own reasoning. She refuses to be made into a joke or looked down upon. Catherine is stubborn and verbose. Catherine must be Logan, the voice of reason, who does his best to keep a handle on his temper and appear as professional as possible, who explains and reasons and is logic above all, who is terrified of being seen as a joke, who is desperate to just be heard for once in his life.

Anne Boleyn

Anne in the green sleeves. Anne who has no filter whatsoever, Anne who says whatever comes into her head. Anne who makes jokes about her own beheading. Anne who says “don’t be bitter/cause I’m fitter/why hasn’t it hit her?/he doesn’t wanna bang you/somebody hang you.” Anne who is “sorry not sorry” about everything she says. Anne who is the most gleeful and up-front about “x-rated” content. Anne whose energy is boundless. Anne who is disliked and cast in a negative light by those around her. Anne must be Remus, the darkly creative, responsible for intrusive thoughts, who would never hide anything going through his head and sees no reason to regret this, the “evil twin.”

But then again, Anne who didn’t mean to hurt anyone.” Anne who desperately cries “what was I meant to do?” over and over again as every choice she makes has no good outcome for her. Anne whose comments are more harshly received than she sometimes means. Anne who does not take it well when she comes second to someone else. Anne must be Roman, the ego, stuck in a damned-if-I-do-damned-if-I-don’t situation towards Janus throughout the “Putting Others First” saga, who often lashes out instinctively only to immediately apologize, who strives to be Thomas’s hero.

But then again, Anne whose actions are surprisingly logical from her own point of view. Anne who uses phrases like “obviously” to describe what took place. Anne who gives back tit for tat and no more when she feels disrespected. Anne who is blunt, perhaps more so than is good for her. Anne must be Logan, who always does what makes the most sense to him, who considers what is fair and equal, who can come across as harsher than he means.

Jane Seymour

Jane who is patient. Jane who is steady. Jane who forgives over and over again and makes allowance for behavior she does not deserve to tolerate. Jane whose family is of the utmost importance to her. Jane is overlooked for her kindness and meekness but is so, so strong. Jane who makes puns about her own name. Jane must be Patton, who adores his family, the punster, who is established as the dad friend from day one, who gives and nurtures and forgives endlessly, who is resilient and strong and supportive.

But then again, Jane sticks with the positions she has chosen. Jane who is easily overlooked. Jane who acknowledges the often-sucky realities of life and does not let it bring her down. Jane who is strong as stone and unshakeable. Jane must be Logan, who will not back down, who can be relegated to the sidelines too easily, who is down to earth and who chooses to see the wonder in the ordinary despite all the bad.

But then again, Jane knows she could be rejected at a misstep. Jane who loves, and is loved, but believes that love could “disappear.” Jane who withstands hardships and heartbreak and fear. Jane who uses storm imagery constantly. Jane whose strength and love is akin to stone, something rarely used as a positive metaphor. Jane must be Virgil, who worries he will be rejected for his dark past, who withstood being shunned by those he “lo—cares for” in the past, who is prickly and can cause harm but has grown and matured, who will not be reduced to a single facet of himself even if that makes him more “complicated,” whose logo is a stormcloud.

Anna of Cleves

Anna who is bold. Anna who is unafraid to speak her mind and gets what she wants. Anna whose physical appearance led to her rejection. Anna who is the epitome of “me time” and “self care.” Anna who has no problem being sassy and gives as good as she gets. Anna must be Janus, who advocates for self care and putting oneself first, who is a drama queen, whose sarcasm is off the charts, who has been accused of trickery (sometimes justified, sometimes not), who thrives on attention, whose snake face led to instant distrust from everyone around him, who will go to any length to be heard.

But then again, Anna who demands attention. Anna who gives herself every luxury that occurs to her on a whim. Anna is the only character to openly curse, and gives it a double meaning. Anna who revels in the portrait that caused her rejection and takes pride in it. Anna is the first to make fun of Henry's genitals. Anna must be Remus, who revels in everything he is told not to, who is impulsive and whimsical and unfiltered, who calls Logan a dork and later reveals the inappropriate double meaning, who takes up space unashamedly.

But then again, Anna who constantly reminds us of her royal position. Anna who leans into the queenly activities and possessions. Anna who is flamboyant. Anna who dances when her jam comes on the lute. Anna who rejects criticism of herself. Anna who is “looking cute.” Anna must be Roman, the ego, who put “Flamboyant” by Dorian Electra on his playlist, who is creativity embodied and dances and sings and acts, who “has got to slay,” who reminds us constantly of his princely status.

Katherine Howard

Katherine who comes across at first as flirty and confident only to later reveal that she is insecure because she has only ever been valued for her appearance. Katherine who idealizes and daydreams about someone caring about her for herself and not her looks. Katherine who uses self-confident language to mask her insecurity. Katherine whose language is so flowery and filled with vivid descriptions. Katherine who desperately wants to be approved of and loved. Katherine must be Roman, whose confident facade hides insecurity, who is a hopeless romantic, who is a storyteller, whose language is filled with descriptors and metaphors, who desperately craves approval and validation, who is the romantic side.

But then again, Katherine gives others the benefit of the doubt. Katherine who looks for friends everywhere she goes. Katherine who constantly uses euphemisms and language that might be considered childish. Katherine who is sweet and sincere. Katherine must be Patton, who censors his language and can skirt around topics that are too unpleasant, who forgives and gives second chances, who is kind and soft, who makes friends almost as easily as breathing.

But then again, Katherine who has been let down over and over again. Katherine who tries again and again after every disappointment. Katherine who is anxious to be approved of. Katherine must be Virgil, who dealt with the “scorn” of those he admired for so long, who has persevered through everything, who deals with self-doubt, who always tries again.

But then again, Katherine who thinks she ought to know better, but never does. Katherine who is so, so tired of this same shit every time. Katherine who is too worldly and disillusioned. Katherine who hopes and tries again every time she gets let down. Katherine must be Janus, who put “You’re a Cad” on his playlist, who was rejected time and time again by Thomas and the others but kept trying, who went on a whole ramble about how society is out to get you and the only person you can really trust is yourself.

Catherine Parr

Catherine who brought all the queens together despite their differences and their fights. Catherine who was separated from the person she cared about before eventually reuniting with him. Catherine who uses her voice defiantly because she is tired of being silenced. Catherine who doesn’t need love to get by. Catherine who loves music. Catherine who sometimes loses hope, but keeps going anyway. Catherine must be Virgil, the bridge between “light” and “dark” sides, who cannot be silenced, always listening (to Thomas or to music), who cared about the “light” sides long before he was accepted as part of the group.

But then again, Catherine who prioritizes herself and her own story. Catherine who sings her song “for me.” Catherine who is a little bit cynical about love stories, which we’re normally taught to idealize. Catherine for whom the rules of society are a trap. catherine who demands control over herself. Catherine who rejects the rules of the queens’ competition when they restrict her. Catherine must be Janus, self-preservation and self-care, who feels restricted and endangered by the rules of society, who dismisses Patton’s urge to help those in need with a “yeah, sure, whatever, if that’s your thing,” who pushes Thomas to be true to himself.

But then again, Catherine who “built a future in her mind” with her love. Catherine who loves art in all its forms, and consumes and creates it with abandon. Catherine who wants to tell her story on her own terms after being silenced for so long. Catherine must be Roman, endlessly creative, romantic daydreamer, struggling with balancing his wants with Thomas's needs and feeling silenced because of it.

But then again, Catherine who writes, and is scholarly. Catherine who fights for equality and takes steps within her power to make specific differences. Catherine who champions education for women. Catherine who cannot stand being boxed in and made to be less than she truly is. Catherine who bottles up her rage at the unfairness of it all for as long as she can. Catherine whose feelings are pushed aside. Catherine must be Logan, the teacher, who pushes his emotions aside until he cannot hold them back anymore, who feels like he is not seen for who he is, who cares deeply about things being fair and equitable, who outlines action steps, who always asks more questions.

--

The queens are each multi-faceted characters full of depth—they’re human, gorgeously and heartwrenchingly so. It makes sense that there are multiple Sides that could easily fit into each of their roles, and I haven’t even covered every possible interpretation. There are dozens of possible lineups to come up with here, each that I love to think about. What’s your favorite? I’d love to hear.

[sparrow-flies-south]

I Can’t Decide (Whether You Should Live Or Die) 3

Title: I Can’t Decide (Whether You Should Live Or Die) Pairings: Romantic Thomceit Warnings: More murder attempts, stabbing, references to child abduction and abuse, references to torture, and a character who, while not actually suicidal, is prepared to sacrifice his life. Summary: Deceit is one of the best assassins in the business. So assassinating Thomas Sanders should not be difficult - except Thomas seems to have the amazing ability to happen to escape from death. And the longer it takes Deceit to kill Thomas, the less sure he is that he even wants to.

My Masterpost   Read on AO3  Part one  Part two  Fic tag

The agency has safe houses dotted across the country, but it’s only the new members who rely on them. Over time, assassins fain their own network of safe houses and bolt holes; some that belong to them, others that another agent will let them use.

Deceit can’t use any of the agency’s safe houses. He can’t use any belonging to his allies, either, though there were only ever a handful of them. He inherited some of his own safe houses from the Dragon, which leaves only a few that he can go to. Fortunately, one of these is in Florida.

The owner of the building the flat is in gets paid handsomely to not ask too many questions. The other residents believe Deceit is a rich man who spends most of his time travelling the world. There are a number of ways out of the building for if it does get discovered, and it’s located close to the main road out of town.

It’s long past midnight when Deceit arrives, meaning he has officially failed his mission. Officially abandoned his mission, which is worse. If he’d just failed, his reputation would be ruined, and he’d have to fight to repair it, but he’d still be welcomed back.

There’s only one case that he knows of where someone abandoned their mission, when it had turned out the target could pay better than the agency did. Deceit had tracked the agent down in Budapest.

“What the fuck would you know about anything?” she’d snarled at him, back pressed against the wall and bleeding from her side. “You’re brainwashed by the agency!”

He hadn’t taken offence to her insults. Everyone knows that it wasn’t exactly his choice to become what he is today. People wondered why the Dragon had shown up after a mission with a freshly orphaned child, why she’d sunk her time and resources into training him, but everyone agreed that it had worked.

It hadn’t been a violent process, the remaking of him, but a gentle one. A band wrapped around his old self, so that as he grew, that part of him died and rotted away. Before long, the only name he’d gone by had been the one the Dragon had given him.

He’d buried the traitor by the side of the road; one last sign of respect that she didn’t deserve. The greatest honour any assassin could have is to go unremembered.

Janus should be dead and gone like she is, but Deceit dug him up when he’d told Thomas his name, and now he’s Deceits own spectre.

He doesn’t even know why he told Thomas that. A name makes no difference when he won’t see Thomas again.

And he won’t see Thomas again. Going back is too risky, it’s the first place the agency will look for him. And Deceit doesn’t know what he’s doing, doesn’t even know what he is anymore, but he knows he doesn’t want the agency to find him, not yet.

A day passes, two, and Deceit stays in the safe house as much as possible. He destroyed his phone after fleeing Thomas’ house, so he buys a new one when he has to stock up on supplies. He could call Thomas – he has Thomas’ number memorised. Then he can tell Thomas that he isn’t going to kill him, and Thomas will know he doesn’t have to even think about Deceit anymore.

He doesn’t call.

And then, on the third day, someone calls him.

Deceit answers it solely out of curiosity. It isn’t hard to recognise the high pitched, nasally voice on the other end.

“Sup, Deedee,” the Duke says. “Heard you fucked up.”

Out of everyone in the agency, Remus is the closest thing Deceit has ever had to a partner. They’re both the best at their job, though they have very different methods, and Deceit is one of the few people who tolerates the Duke’s antics. So when two people are needed for a mission, they end up paired together. And when a job is outside one’s realm of expertise, the other gets called it.

Deceit has been asked to clean up after Remus many times.

“How did you find this number?” Deceit asks.

The Duke laughs. “Figure it out! Unless you’re getting too rusty. Heard you’ve been having trouble getting it up – and by ‘getting it up’ I mean killing people. So now I get to come out to play instead!”

“You’ve been given the Thomas job,” he realises. It’s not much of a surprise; the agency doesn’t leave their targets alive just because one of their members fails.

“Ooh, first name basis. What’d he do, suck your dick? Or did he turn out to have secret ninja training or something?”

“Remus-”

“Sorry, Dee, can’t talk, got a plane to catch. See you when I’m done with him!”

The Duke hangs up before Deceit can say anything. Deceit stares down at the phone. He’d known something like this would happen, he just hadn’t thought about it. He hadn’t wanted to think about it, though that’s hardly an excuse for getting sloppy.

The Duke is going to kill Thomas. That’s without question. He might kill Virgil, too, but that hardly matters, since Deceit isn’t the one doing it. And Thomas knows he’s going to die, has been given time to make peace with it. Deceit has granted him that kindness.

Remus is among the best. Even if Thomas and Virgil get lucky again, they won’t be able to stop him for good. Only an assassin would be able to do that.

Deceit groans and buries his face in his hands. It’s one thing to fail, it’s even one thing to desert. But it’s a completely different thing to turn traitor, and that’s what he’ll be if he tries to intervene. And then he’ll be killed horribly, and Thomas will die as well, and none of it will have mattered.

Is Thomas worth such a pointless, suicidal mission?

Deceit curses, then storms out of his apartment.

*

He finally finds Thomas and Virgil and the mall, between Hot Topic and Pandora. Virgil is on his phone, and Thomas is talking to him. Thomas looks up, spots Deceit coming towards them, and smiles, face relaxing with relief as he raises a hand to wave.

Before Deceit can get there, Virgil is in front of him, putting himself between Deceit and Thomas.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Virgil snarls. His hands are clenched into fists, but Deceit can still see that he’s shaking.

Clearly, Virgil must have the sense that Thomas is lacking; he’s hostile and suspicious, and Deceit won’t be able to change that any time soon. It would be good to see, if it wasn’t getting in Deceit’s way right now.

“We need to get out of here,” Deceit says to Thomas.

“Yeah, no,” Virgil snaps. “I’m not letting you take Thomas somewhere to murder him.”

“As opposed to murdering him right here?” Deceit asks. “Or when he gets home? You know, for people with assassins after you, you’re not taking many precautions.”

“Deceit, buddy, you’re not really helping your case,” Thomas sighs. Some sense of urgency must show on Deceit’s face, though, because Thomas goes serious and asks, “What’s wrong?”

“You’re in danger,” Deceit says. “Quite possibly very immediate danger.”

“Pretty sure the danger is standing right in front of us,” Virgil mutters.

“The danger is that you’re standing here talking when you should be moving,” Deceit hisses. “Or did you actually think ignoring the problem would make it go away?”

“Okay.” Thomas pushes between them. “Deceit, I am very confused. Could you please just explains what’s going on? And where have you been?”

Deceit forces him to take a slow breath in and out. Is helping people always like this? It’s exhausting.

“I’m not the only assassin out there,” Deceit explains. “The Duke is looking for you, and believe me, you do not want him to find you. So we need to leave now.”

Thomas goes pale. Virgil tenses up.

“No fucking way,” Virgil says, at the same time as Thomas says, “Okay, let’s go.”

Virgil stares at Thomas incredulously. Deceit feels the same way, but he’s not about to question it now that things are finally doing his way. Virgil has no such qualms.

“What the fuck?” he snaps. “You’re seriously trusting him right now? His name is Deceit.”

Thomas shrugs sheepishly. “He hasn’t killed me yet.”

“That cannot be where the bar is.”

“If you’re quite done,” Deceit says, and Virgil turns all the venom in his gaze back to him. “We really should be going.”

Thomas nods, takes a step forward. “Virgil, I know you don’t trust him, but trust me. I’ll be fine, okay?”

Virgil shakes his head. “Fine,” he snaps, “But I’m coming with you.”

“No,” Thomas says immediately, and the intensity startles both Deciet and Virgil. “I’ve already put you in danger, I’m not putting you in any more.”

Deceit scans the mall. They really do not have time for this.

“Please,” Virgil says. “You’d be dead five times over by now if it wasn’t for me, Sanders. Someone has to watch your back.”

“Wonderful, we’re all going,” Deceit says. “Can we just get a move on?”

Thomas and Virgil seem to have a conversation with just their eyes, and then Thomas nods. “Okay,” he says. “You, uh, you do have somewhere to go, right?”

Deceit rolls his eyes, already leading the way out of the mall. He hears Thomas and Virgil hurry to keep up with him. “No, I barged in here without a plan,” he answers. “Honestly, Thomas, what do you take me for?”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Thomas roll his eyes fondly, even as Virgil grumbles.

*

They don’t go far. Deceit takes them to an empty shop close to the mall, and ushers them upstairs, into what used to be an office room. Virgil hovers close to Thomas the whole time. Deceit leaves them there, and goes downstairs to check the perimeter.

There are a lot of places the Duke could enter – the main door, a back door, the large windows at the front of the shop which are boarded up but not boarded up well, and the windows upstairs. It’ll have to do for now, though, as Deceit doesn’t want to risk taking Thomas and Virgil across town until he knows where Remus is.

So he gets to work making it as safe as he can; he blocks off the front door first, as that’s the most obvious point of entry, and then switches to the back. There’s not a lot he can actually use – he was able to move some furniture still left in the front to block off that door, and he finds some wood and nails, presumably from boarding up the windows.

He’s only just set to work when someone moves behind him. He spins, already pulling out a knife and preparing to throw it when he realises who it is; Thomas, hands raised and a sheepish smile on his face.

“Sorry,” Thomas says. “Didn’t mean to sneak up on you.”

“Be glad I’m too well trained to have thrown that,” Deceit answers, and Thomas’ lips quirk up even more into a smile, as if Deceit isn’t talking about killing him.

“If I’m not back upstairs in ten minutes, Virgil’s going to come down,” Thomas says, grimacing. “He made me say that.”

“Okay.” Virgil’s suspicions is equal parts refreshing and grating, though he’s not sure what Virgil thinks it can possibly accomplish.

“What happened?” Thomas blurts, and it’s clear he’s wanted to say this for a while. “You show up at my house having a panic attack, and then you just disappear. Where have you been?”

“A safe house,” Deceit answers.

“Yeah, that narrows it down,” Thomas says. “Janus-”

Deceit goes perfectly still when Thomas says that name, and Thomas trails off, looking uncertain.

“I just- are you okay?” Thomas finishes.

“Clearly,” Deceit says. He’s here, isn’t he?

“That’s not what I mean,” Thomas says. He places a hand on Deceit’s arm, and Deceit’s brain short circuits. “Look, if you- want to talk or something, I’m here, okay?”

Deceit stares at Thomas’ hand. His touch is gentle yet solid. “You won’t like what I have to talk about.”

Thomas shrugs. “I can deal with it.”

“I’m fine.”

Thomas doesn’t look convinced, but he doesn’t push it.  Instead, he asks, “Who’s the Duke?”

“An assassin who works for the same people as me,” Deceit explains. “Since they aren’t happy with my progress, he’s been given the job.”

“And now he’s trying to kill me,” Thomas finishes, and Deceit nods.

Deceit gives Thomas a moment to process this before continuing, “The Duke is one of the best. Dealing with him will be difficult.”

“You said you work together. Is he your friend?”

An absurd thought. “I don’t have friends.”

“Except for me,” Thomas says.

That= Deceit doesn’t know what to say to that. It’s ridiculous – he and Thomas can’t be friends, even if Thomas is still touching him. He’s tried to kill Thomas multiple times, and Thomas kidnapped him (technically), and now Thomas is worried about Deceit’s mental state, and Deceit is risking his life to protect Thomas.

Deceit is about to explain all of this, when upstairs Virgil cries out, “Thomas!”

The panic in Virgil’s voice is clear, and the shout Is cut off at the end. Thomas takes off running first, but Deceit quickly overtakes him, so he is the first one to enter the room.

Virgil is still alive. The Duke stands behind him, one arm wrapped around Virgil’s neck, keeping him still. The other hand holds that ridiculous morning star that he likes so much. Somehow, Virgil manages to look both scared and pissed off all at once.

“Hi, Deede,” Remus says cheerfully. “Didn’t expect you to be such a sore loser. I got this job fair and square, you know.”

Deceit can tell the minute Thomas catches up, because Virgil’s eyes fly to someone in the doorway, and Thomas himself lets out a strangled noise. Deceit takes a smooth step back, so he’s standing next to Thomas.

“Funny,” Deceit says. “I didn’t expect you to get the wrong person.” He wraps his fingers around Thomas’ arm, and pulls him towards himself. Thomas stumbles as he moves, clearly not expecting Deceit to betray him.

Deceit pulls Thomas in front of him, and wraps one arm around Thomas’ chest. With their bodies pressed so close together, Deceit can feel Thomas’ breath speed up. Across the room, Virgil snarls and struggles, only to go still when Remus tightens his grip. Remus tilts his head, looking rather like a dog that just wandered in from the street.

“Why haven’t you killed him yet?” Remus asks, and Thomas’ breath stutters.

Deceit shrugs, watching for any sign of movement. “I’m having fun.”

“You fucking bastard,” Virgil snarls, kicking at Remus. Remus just holds onto him and whoops with laughter.

“Careful,” Remus says. “There’ll be time for you, too.”

Remus might very well kill Virgil here and now – the only reason he hasn’t is probably so he doesn’t get distracted.

“Why wait?” Deceit asks. “Consider him the consolation prize.”

Remus’ grin turns feral, which means he recognises the challenge. That ends up being the only warning Deceit gets before Remus in launching himself across the room, Virgil thrown to the side like a discarded doll.

Deceit flings himself and Thomas to the floor, dodging the swing of Remus’ mace. He leaves Thomas there and moves to meet Remus. He’s fast enough to grab Remus’ arm and twist it, forcing Remus to drop the mace.

Remus grabs Deceit’s wrist where he’s still holding Remus’ hand, and tries to flip him to the ground. Deceit is able to break free of the hold, and he aims a kick at Remus’ legs. It makes Remus stumble, and Deceit uses that to knock Remus to the ground, and pin him in place.

He can’t see Thomas or Virgil. He hopes this means that they’re smart enough to get the hell out of here while they still have a chance-

The knife slides into Deceit’s abdomen, and the surprise is enough for Remus to be able to throw him off.  Deceit gasps in pain, tries to pull himself upright, but Remus is already there, pushing him back down again.

“Eh, don’t feel too bad,” Remus says, patting Deceit on the cheek. “Better luck next time, right?”

“Remus, don’t,” Deceit begs, but Remus ignores him and picks up the morning star.

“C’mon, I won unfair and square,” Remus says.

Deceit is able to push himself to his feet, though he knows fighting Remus won’t do much good. Thomas and Virgil are standing in the doorway, which means he hasn’t even managed to give them a head start.

He lunges forward, grabs Remus by the arm, desperately trying to stop him, but Remus shakes Deceit off with a snarl. Deceit is already off-balance from the wound, and now Remus throws him to the ground. The air is forced out of his lungs, and he can only stare up at Remus, standing over him.

“Please,” Deceit is able to gasp out.

Remus tilts his head. “It’s only a job,” he says, a bit reproachful.

Deceit shakes his head. He wants to tell Remus it’s not, but he can’t, and someone is running across the room towards them.

“Stop,” Thomas cries, and Remus swivels to look at him. “Look, let him and Virgil go, and- and you can kill me. I won’t try to fight you.”

Remus glances between Thomas and Deceit, and then shrugs. “Kind of a weird thing to say, but I’ll take it.”

“No,” Deceit snarls. He tries to push himself upright, but is unable to.

“Deceit, don’t,” Thomas says. “It’s okay. You did everything you could.”

“Hang on,” Remus says, lowering his mace. “He knows you name?”

“Well,” Thomas says shakily, “It’d be kind of weird if I kept calling him Mr Assassin.”

 “Okay,” Remus says. “Can one of you tell me what in the ever loving fuck is going on?”

Deceit opens his mouth to explain, but before he can Virgil is at his side, one hand gingerly touching near the wound on Deceit’s abdomen.

“What the fuck, you just got stabbed,” Virgil hisses, which Deceit thinks should be fairly obvious by this point.

Virgil shrugs out of his hoodie and presses it against the wound, stemming the bleeding. Thomas crouches down on Deceit’s other side.

“Is he going to be okay?” Thomas asks.

“How the fuck should I know?” Virgil snaps. “I’m not a doctor.”

“I’ll be fine,” Deceit says. “I just need to close it.”

“What if it hit something important?” Virgil asks.

“Oh, please,” Remus says. “I’m not an amateur.”

Virgil and Thomas both startle at the reminder that Remus is here. Deceit sighs.

“If you find me something to stitch this with, I’ll tell you everything,” he says to Remus.

Remus hurries out of the room, and Deceit stumbles to his feet.

“What are you doing?” Thomas asks.

Deceit staggers to a chair, pushed against the side of the wall, and sits down in it. Virgil hurries over to press the hoodie against the wound again.

“It’ll be easier to stitch it like this,” Deceit says.

“Stitch it, right.” Thomas sounds faint. “Because that’s what we’re doing.”

“It’s what I’m doing,” Deceit corrects, waving Virgil away. “I don’t trust you with a needle.”

Virgil is reluctant to let go of the hoodie, until Deceit begins to peel his shirt off. He drops his shirt to the floor, next to Virgil’s blood soaked hoodie – he’ll have to help Virgil get the stains out of it later. When he looks up again, Thomas and Virgil are staring at him in horror.

“What happened to you?” Thomas asks.

Deceit glances down at his chest, and then shrugs. Most of the wounds he’s received are from accidents, or training, or times when the target decided to fight back. Those are the smaller scars, though, and Deceit has a feeling Thomas and Virgil are looking at the big ones. The ones that only happen when someone knows what they’re doing and wants to make it hurt.

“Business,” Deceit says.

“That’s a shit explanation,” Virgil points out.

“DeeDee got caught a few years back,” Remus says from the doorway, where he is now standing. He’s found a needle and thread somewhere – most likely something he brought with him.

“And they did that to you?” Thomas asks, choked.

Deceit glances at Remus, who shrugs, looking as confused as Deceit feels. “It was a long time ago.”

That doesn’t seem to make Thomas or Virgil feel any better, so Deceit takes the needle and thread from Remus and busies himself with stitching his wound. Thomas makes a strange, choked noise, but Deceit chooses to ignore it.

Remus is able to keep quiet until Deceit is almost done, when he blurts out, “Okay, seriously, what the fuck? You guys know he wants to kill you, right?”

It’s a fair point. Deceit looks up at Thomas and Virgil to see what they have to say to it.

“We got that after the first couple of assassination attempts,” Virgil mutters.

“But he hasn’t,” Thomas says. “And I don’t think he really wants to.”

“I don’t,” Deceit agrees. He finishes the last couple of stitches and ties it off.

“What, did you suck his dick or something? Cause if so, you must have been really good.”

Thomas turns bright red at that. Deceit avoids making eye contact with him.

“It’s not like that,” Deceit says quickly. “It’s-” Deceit hesitates, uncertain what it is like. “He’s my friend,” he finishes, though that doesn’t quite fit.

Remus pulls a face. “Gross.”

“This doesn’t change anything, does it?” Thomas asks. “I mean, even if you decide not to kill me, they’re just going to keep sending more people, right?”

“Then we go into hiding or something,” Virgil says, glancing at Deceit desperately.

“It would be difficult,” Deceit says slowly, “But not impossible.”

“And what happens to you two?” Thomas snaps, gesturing at Remus. Deceit doesn’t answer. “Yeah, that’s what I thought. Maybe we should just- get on with it.”

“Absolutely not,” Deceit snarls.

“You just got stabbed. He could have killed you! He could have killed Virgil! I’m not- I can’t just let you guys get hurt for me.”

“Too bad,” Virgil hisses. “Because we’re not leaving.”

“Um,” Remus says, “Do I get to make a suggestion?”

“No,” everyone snaps.

“Alright, fine. I mean, I was gonna suggest we stop the contract, but sure, don’t listen to me.”

Wait.

“Stop the contract?” Virgil echoes. “As in- make it so there isn’t a price on Thomas’ head anymore?”

“The Agency doesn’t just stop contracts,” Deceit points out.

“Unless the client cancels it,” Remus corrects. “Honestly, Dee, were you even paying attention to how things work?”

“Hey, that- that actually sounds like an idea,” Thomas says.

“Barely,” Deceit says. “You’re suggesting that we find the client – something which is kept secret – and then somehow persuade them into not having Thomas killed, all without the agency finding out what we’re doing and killing us.”

“Okay, well, when you put it like that,” Remus mutters.

“Do we have any better ideas, though?” Thomas asks. “Because, no offence, but the idea of spending the rest of my life on the run isn’t very appealing.”

And the thing is, Deceit doesn’t have any better ideas. In fact, he’s pretty sure he could figure out who the client is, though the Dragon would almost certainly find out about it.

“Actually, Remus might be on to something,” Deceit says.

“You just listed all the reasons why it’s a terrible idea,” Virgil complained.

“Well, yes,” Deceit says. “There’s no way of getting to the client without the Dragon finding out. But we’re not going after the client.”

“Then who are we going after?” Thomas asks.

Deceit smiles. There’s a rush of energy through his body, the same as he gets before a particularly difficult mission. “We’re going after the Dragon.”