#and logan would take fine to it. i think he has a level enough head on his shoulders that he would be okay once everything died down

[evntualities]

(as if i've written anything in the last three weeks) hey, what about superstar athlete x a-list celebrity? preferably a musician, and i think you can see where i'm going with this—

[infinitehyperfixations]

Europe's Most Wanted Thief

Part 2 of Ribbons and Steel

Ribbons and Steal: Part 1, Part 2

Summary: Piotr faces the aftermath of his first interaction with Maya Durand and learns more about Europe's most wanted thief.

Story Tags: Slow Burn, enemies to lovers

Warnings: Language (mostly Wade)

Word Count: 4.6k

POV: Piotr

Note: Sorry that I haven't updated in a long time! 2023 was not a good year for me but I'm hoping that this year is better!

Comments and Reblogs are love!

Piotr prided himself on his ability to keep a level head in the most aggravating circumstances. He thought it was one of his best qualities. Everyone could rely on him to stay calm in the worst situations. He believed that there has to be at least one person that keeps their composure and Piotr was always more than happy to fill that role.

However, someone else would have to take his place as the “calmest person in the room” while Piotr dealt with his current predicament.

Piotr seethed as he glared at the opened skylight that Maya Durand had escaped through in the museum’s banquet hall. The thief had left the perfectly in tack window ajar as if to mock him on his failure. His outraged thoughts drowned out the police sirens and shouting reporters beyond the entrance doors. He could barely hear NTW’s frantic muttering as she tried to release him from the chain-like prison Maya Durand trapped him in. Only a couple of minutes had passed since her escape and the burning anger inside Piotr worsened with every passing second.

“Piotr!” NTW yelled in his face to pull him out of his furious haze. “I have been calling your name for the last minute!”

NTW nodded, deciphering Piotr’s muffled words as an apology while she tried to pull the cloth off his mouth.

“Anyway,” NTW huffed as she yanked on the tight fabric on his arm, “I was trying to tell you that the Professor is fine. He is currently trying to distract the press outside with Mr. Levine.”

Piotr only grumbled at the thought of the press finding out what happened with Maya Durand. It was inevitable that the X-Men, X-Force, and Wade would learn of the events that transpired but Piotr wanted to talk to them first before they saw it on the news. Piotr was nearly drowning in dread at the thought of Wade finding out before he returned to the mansion. The X-Men would forget about his fight with Maya Durand eventually, but Wade?

Piotr would never live this down.

NTW continued to tug on every strand of fabric with no avail. Piotr was grateful that she tried but even he could barely move in the cloth’s steel-like grip.

“Jesus Christ this shit is way too strong for me to take off,” NTW wheezed, rubbing her reddened fingers. “I think we’re going to need Logan’s claws to get you out of this.”

Before Piotr could think of an alternative plan, the fabric tangled around his body loosened fast enough for him to lose his balance. Piotr’s surprised yelp warned NTW to jump out of the way before he fell flat on his face with a loud bang.

While laying face down on the cold floor, Piotr reflected on the past few months - peaceful and uneventful months that now seemed like a distant memory - and wished he hadn’t taken them for granted. Staring at the scarlet silk that had bound him to the floor moments before did not help to extinguish his anger whatsoever. It only fueled his desire to catch Maya Durand and wipe that devious smirk off her face. He could already tell that the next few months would be the most infuriating of his life, but there was simply no way around it. One way or another, he was going to be the one to put that snarky thief in chains.

When Piotr did not immediately stand up, NTW cautiously stepped closer to him.

“You okay, Piotr?”

“I’m fine,” Piotr muttered, his voice muffled by the cold marble floor.

“You don’t sound like it.”

“I promise I am perfectly fine.”

NTW watched as Piotr stood up, letting the rest of the red fabric fall off of him. Every single piece pooled around his feet except for the one small piece that landed on his shoe - the one that Maya Durand wrapped around his head to keep his mouth shut. The image of Durand’s stupid smirk plagued his thoughts as he snatched up the cloth. With a sneer on his lips, Piotr shoved the material in his pocket for Hank to analyze in his lab. With any luck Hank might be able to figure out why Durand’s fabric was strong enough to hold him down.

Before Piotr could make his way to the museum’s entrance, James Levine threw the doors open to escape the hoards of reporters, flashing cameras, and shouts from police officers that tried to keep the rowdy crowd at bay. The Professor, who looked just as exhausted from dealing with the police and journalists as Levine, closely followed him.

"I see that you were released from Maya Durand's trap," James Levine said when he ran up to Piotr and NTW. "I was afraid that I was going to have to tell Miss Ba to get her briefcase."

Piotr and Ellie looked at Levine inquisitively and then at each other.

"Briefcase?"

"Yes, my toolkit, Mr. Rasputin," Miss Ba's cold voice came from behind him.

Piotr flinched at the sound of her voice before he quickly turned around to meet the assistant's harsh gaze. He wondered if she had the power to teleport because he had no idea how she managed to sneak behind him. Her face seemed to be permanently fixed to an unimpressed frown that wouldn't allow the mere emergence of a smile.

When Piotr finally broke the uncomfortable eye contact with Levine’s assistant, he noticed a large black briefcase she was holding at her side. His discarded suit jacket was draped over her arm, large enough to engulf her small frame.

“As Mr. Levine’s assistant, I must be prepared to protect him and his assets under any circumstances,” Miss Ba explained as she reached in her pocket to grab her ringing phone. Her frown deepened as she glanced at the screen. “That includes a visit from Europe’s most wanted thief…and a call from his relative whose diamond was just stolen.”

Miss Ba excused herself before answering the phone call. She kept the phone almost a foot away from her ear, the woman’s enraged screams audible even as the assistant moved to the opposite side of the room. If she was affected by the woman’s degrading shouts, she did not show it, her face as impassive as ever.

Levine sighed as he watched Miss Ba step aside. “I knew my aunt was going to be in hysterics when she found out about the diamond, but I thought I would have at least an hour to prepare.”

NTW looked up at a banner that advertised the Devil’s Treasure exhibit. “Your aunt owns the diamond?”

“Yes, I convinced her to lend it to the museum.” Levine ran a hand through his dark hair as he glanced from Miss Ba to the open skylight and the crumpled pile of red fabric in the middle of the floor. “I told her that the Devil’s Treasure would be safe and that no one - not even Maya Durand - would dare to attempt to steal it with an X-Man present.”

Levine glanced at Piotr hesitantly before clearing his throat.

“I guess I was wrong.”

Piotr clenched his hands as he took in a deep breath. Levine’s words only made his mood worse. He was an X-Man, he should have been able to stop a thief that controls fabric. He allowed himself to underestimate his opponent, a mistake he wouldn’t be repeating when it came to Maya Durand.

“Who is Maya Durand? How do you know her?” The Professor asked, turning his wheelchair to face Levine.

Levine barked out a laugh, but his amusement quickly faded as he looked between the others’ puzzled faces.

“You’re kidding right? Maya Durand? Europe’s most wanted thief? The woman that has become every billionaire and politician’s waking nightmare? You’ve never heard of her?”

Levine’s astonished look grew when the three mutants shook their heads. He pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath that Piotr couldn’t make out.

“Of course they never heard of Maya Durand,” Miss Ba chided, somehow appearing next to Piotr without him noticing her. She narrowed her eyes at the X-Man as she handed her phone to Levine. “If they did, they might have actually prevented her from stealing the Devil’s Treasure.”

“Nyza,” Levine warned before extending his arm out apologetically. “Please forgive Miss Ba, she can be very…blunt at times.”

“No offense taken,” NTW said, giving Nyza a harsh glare.

Nyza Ba rolled her eyes before she moved closer to Piotr, holding out the jacket on her arm with an irritated look (which seemed to be her default facial expression).

“You may want to put this on,” Nyza suggested, gesturing to his shirt with a nod of her head.

Piotr nearly popped a blood vessel when he looked down at the state of his dress shirt. The seams were ripped open, the fabric was littered with tears of various sizes, and he was missing several buttons. It was a miracle that his shirt was still on his body. Even with his jacket, he would look like he had jumped through a paper shredder.

Just like his dignity, his clothes also fell victim to Maya Durand.

Once Piotr took his jacket, Nyza made her way to a nearby table, brushing aside the remnants of the ruined plates and champagne glasses to set her briefcase in its center . The latches of the briefcase clicked as the assistant opened it.

Piotr gawked at the sight of the neatly organized contents inside of the briefcase. There was a small collection of large, razor sharp knives, two pairs of hedge clippers, and various firearms with extra ammo clips next to them. Piotr realized that this must be the toolkit that Levine spoke of earlier. He grimaced at the thought of them using the knives and hedge clippers to cut him out of the trap.

“What’s that?” NTW asked, pointing at a gun with a small compartment filled with some sort of clear fluid underneath its barrel.

“A mini flamethrower,” Nyza said nonchalantly. “My sources say that Maya Durand has an intense fear of fire.”

Levine’s eyebrows knitted together as he sneered, “I told you to get rid of that.”

To Piotr’s surprise, Nyza’s face paled at the sight of Levine’s hardened gaze and her eyes grew wider as he towered over her small form.

“I’m sorry, sir,” Nyza mumbled, reaching inside the briefcase to disassemble the weapon. She carefully disconnected the gun’s fluid compartment and tucked away the parts inside the briefcase.

Once she was done, Levine pulled out a tablet from the bottom of the briefcase. While he turned it on, Nyza closed the briefcase and moved to stand behind her boss, her normal judgemental look quickly sliding back over her features.

“I have Nyza keep a tablet with all of the information we have on Maya Durand. She has become quite a problem in Europe.”

Piotr reminded himself of the briefing the Professor gave on James Levine and his company on the way to the gala. While the company did produce machinery for medicine and entertainment, Drake Industries was primarily a tech company that specialized in security and weapons. It would not surprise him if the company had extensive records of criminals across the world.

“I wanted to ensure that local authorities knew whom they were dealing with if she showed up,” Levine explained, turning the tablet toward the mutants.

Piotr peered down at the tablet, which was currently displaying a mugshot of Durand. Much to Piotr’s displeasure, her signature smirk was firmly in place as she stared defiantly into the camera. The Professor gave Piotr a stern look as he tried to hide his frown at the sight of the prideful and mischievous glint in her eyes.

As he looked away from the infuriating picture, Piotr’s gaze fell on Levine’s face. There was a ghost of a smile on his face as his finger ran over Durand’s cheek. What unsettled Piotr even more was the way he was looking at her as if she was his next meal. His eyes wandered over her features with a possessive desire and longing that made Piotr’s stomach churn.

Weird.

“You may have this if you wish to pursue her,” Levine said, dropping the strange demeanor as he handed the tablet to the Professor.

“Don’t worry,” NTW asserted, nudging Piotr with her elbow. “We’ll make sure she’s put behind bars.”

Nyza scoffed at NTW’s promise and quickly silenced herself after receiving a harsh glance from her boss. Before NTW could make a scathing retort, Levine interjected to ease the tension in the air.

“It worries me that she has made an appearance in the states,” Levine stressed. “It may mean that she’s bored and wants to cause trouble here. If that’s the case, she is likely to make another appearance soon.”

Piotr nodded sharply. He was going to make Maya Durand regret crashing the gala. He would be the reason her obnoxious grin fell as he put her behind bars.

“Then she will have to face me the next time she shows her face.”

“And we will get that diamond back,” NTW promised.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm, but the Devil’s Treasure is long gone,” Levine chuckled lightly. “By now Maya Durand will have given it to the person who hired her for the job.”

The sound of Levine’s ringing phone took away his attention. Groaning, he pulled the device from his pocket and looked at the three mutants apologetically.

“I’m afraid I will have to deal with my aunt now. Nyza has made arrangements for your car to pick you up discreetly behind the museum so you can avoid the press. I wish you the best of luck catching Miss Durand.”

Before turning to take the call, Levine nodded to each of the mutants, his gaze lingering on Piotr for a fraction longer than the others before he strode off, his aunt’s screeching following him as he headed for the museum door. Piotr tried to ignore the unsettled feeling in the pit of his stomach, but something was…off about Levine. If stories from the other X-Men were anything to go by, people like Levine almost always had an ulterior motive when they involved themselves in the mutant world. And besides his involvement with mutants, it was odd that Levine didn’t seem upset about losing the multi-million dollar diamond to Durand. Piotr would have to keep his guard up.

“God, I am so glad that I’m not him right now,” NTW muttered as she and Piotr watched the door swing shut behind Levine. With a significantly colder nod to the group, Nyza Ba quickly followed her boss out of the museum, briefcase in hand as the door swung shut for the second time, leaving them alone in the event hall.

“You will wish you were when we see Wade back at mansion,” Piotr grumbled.

The Professor rolled his eyes, although the slight quirk of his lips hinted at his amusement at NTW’s pallid expression. While they followed the Professor to the museum’s rear exit, Piotr started to mentally prepare himself for the harassment he was going to receive from the X-Men and, much to his displeasure, from Wade. He knew NTW could withstand some playful jabs from the X-Men but he was certain he was going to have to take the brunt of Wade’s teasing so she wouldn’t send him through a wall.

For the sake of his sanity, Piotr hoped he was wrong.

-----

The car ride back to the X-Mansion was deathly silent. Piotr and Ellie turned off their phones to have a little bit of peace before they returned. Both of them refused to look through the tablet’s information on Maya Durand so they wouldn’t have to think about what had happened. The incident was surely on every single news channel by now. Even though Piotr did not have any social media profiles, he knew he couldn’t hide from the flood of tweets and memes of the ordeal with his students and Wade around. Frankly, he wouldn’t be surprised if he had at least a hundred memes and videos about his fight with Maya Durand from Wade waiting behind his phone’s black screen.

When they finally arrived at the mansion, the X-Men were waiting for them in the foyer. Their quiet muttering came to a sudden halt as they stepped through the door. Most of them glanced between the members of the haggard group hesitantly, clearly not wanting to provoke any lingering emotions from the gala. Logan, on the other hand, stood front and center with an amused grin plastered on his face. The X-Man seemed as if he was anticipating some form of entertainment. He did not have to say anything because Piotr knew exactly why Logan was giving him that look.

Piotr closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose as he released a deep sigh. “Where is he?”

The rapid footsteps from the hallway at the top of the staircase behind the X-Men gave him his answer. Wade bounded to the top of the staircase, waving his phone in the air with a wide smile on his face. Piotr’s frown deepened when Wade took notice of his ruined dress shirt.

“Damn, she really did fuck up your over glorified hall monitor ass, huh?” Wade chortled, sliding down the arm of the staircase with Nathan marching down the steps to follow him. “I cannot believe you got your ass handed to you by a person who controls fabric.”

“Shut up, dickhead,” NTW snapped while her hand formed into fists.

Wade simply ignored her and continued on with his jests. “Just be thankful that you don’t have Twitter because they are having a field day with this selfie of you and Maya-”

“Selfie?” Piotr interjected as his rage from the fight suddenly came back to him. “Show me.”

The sight of the selfie that Maya had taken of them when he was stuck in her trap made his blood boil. The Devil’s Treasure rested casually in her free hand, which was propped carelessly on his shoulder. Her glimmering eyes, perfect teeth, and victorious smile that shined brighter against her red lipstick only made his mood worse. Of course she looked gorgeous while Piotr was tied up with a tattered shirt.

Piotr clenched his fists tightly, “She is going down.”

Before Wade could say anything else, Nathan snatched his phone from him, sending him a harsh glare. He didn’t budge at Wade’s demands to release his phone. Piotr was reminded vividly of a parent taking a toy away from a misbehaving toddler as a punishment.

“You have been talking about this for hours,” Nathan seethed, putting Wade’s phone in his pocket. “I’m tired of hearing about it and I’m sure the Big Guy here is too. Besides, I bet she would kick your ass too.”

“You are no fun,” huffed Wade. “She would never beat me! I would just slice her little ribbons in half!”

“I wouldn’t underrate Miss Durand’s powers, Wade,” The Professor chastised, holding up the tablet that Levine had given him. “According to this, she’s a professional.”

Professor X motioned for all of them to follow him to the large council room that they used for meetings and debriefings. In the center of the room was a grand round table with enough seats to sit the X-Men and X-Force. The massive TVs on each wall of the room displayed different news stations that were all discussing the same thing: Maya Durand. Titles slowly crawled across the bottoms of the screens. Piotr read Breaking News: Maya Durand Strikes in the U.S., Maya Durand Steals The Devil’s Treasure, and X-Man Fails to Stop Mutant Thief before forcefully pulling his gaze away from the screens.

The Professor slid the tablet to the center of the table as everyone took their seats. The device’s screen flickered for a moment before it projected a hologram of Maya Durand’s file for all of them to view. Her mugshot was at the very top of the file. Her perfect smile taunted Piotr as if she was telling him to catch her if he can.

Her basic information was in print below her photo, which Piotr stubbornly ignored as he focused on the text. He felt as if her picture was watching him amusingly as he read what little information the file had. Her exact age was unknown (it said she was in her early to mid twenties), no known family, no known aliases or allies, or anything about her life before she became a thief.

The details that her file did have were of the crimes she had committed, her services that she offered to the highest bidder, and information on her mutant powers.

“This has absolutely nothing on her,” NTW grumbled as she scanned the file.

Scott let out a low whistle as he read aloud her criminal charges, “She’s wanted by Interpol for multiple counts of burglary, assault, theft, espionage, grand theft…everything, and a whole lot more.”

“Who cares about a couple boring charges?” Wade threw his hands in the air as he glared at Scott like he had grievously insulted him. “Homicide and manslaughter are way cooler and you know it!”

Piotr quickly read through her charges to fact check Wade…and he was right. She had not killed anyone, at least not in any incident listed on the file. Piotr wasn't sure if this information made him feel better or worse about the thief. He decided to chalk up this oddity to Durand being too proud to get her hands dirty and label her as the absolute worst person he had ever met.

“That is little extreme… I have fought people that want to kill all mutants,” Piotr reminded himself. “Maya may not be worst person but she is very high on list.”

Scanning through the rest of her file, Piotr came across a section that listed her skillset. Piotr rolled his eyes at the Master Thief at the top of the list. He wondered if Maya had gotten her hands on the file and put that in there to inflate her ego. Her file also stated that she was a chameleon - a master at hiding in plain sight. The way that the file described her abilities made Piotr wonder if she was almost as good as Mystique. On top of that, the file claimed she was a master escape artist as well. He read the brief description of the few times she was sent to prison and her increasingly elaborate escapes. It seemed that no prison could hold her - at least for long.

“Piotr, I think I know why Maya’s fabric was strong enough to hold you down,” NTW said, pointing at the section on her file that listed her mutant abilities.

Mutant Powers:

Fabric Manipulation

Fabric Creation

Material Identification and Application

“Material Application?” Piotr read allowed with a perplexed tone.

“I’ve heard about this ability!” Hank divulged with an intrigued look. “Some mutants have the ability to copy elements of certain materials to another object without changing it physically. A copy and paste power to put it simply.”

Piotr reached inside his pocket for the cloth he had taken from the museum and placed it on the table. He peered down at the fabric inquisitively, running his fingers over the soft silk before handing it to the scientist.

“She was able to make her fabric as strong as metal with this ability?” Piotr questioned, almost impressed by her ability.

Hank examined the material in his hands before pulling at it to test its strength and elasticity. The fabric stretched easily, not showing any visible signs of stress. It didn’t even tear when Hank ran his sharp claws against it.

“Yes, I suspect that her fabric may be as strong as steel,” Hank hypothesized, keeping his eyes on the fabric, “but I will be able to tell you more tomorrow once I’ve taken a closer look.”

The Professor glanced down at his watch, realizing how late at night it was before backing away from the table. With a wave of his hands all of the TVs in the room turned off as he made his way to the door.

“Maya Durand may not look like a big threat now, but I fear this is only the beginning. Judging by her reputation, her jobs may put people in danger,” Professor X cautioned, his face drawn as he looked at the mutants still gathered around the table.

The Professor met Piotr’s gaze levelly for a few moments for a few moments before addressing the group at large.

“Piotr, I’m trusting you to be the one to stop her.”

Before anyone could object, Professor X held up his hand to keep everyone silent. Piotr caught Logan rolling his eyes with an unimpressed grin on his face. He vaguely heard Logan muttering about how this was going to go for Piotr and judging by his tone, the clawed man was betting against him.

“You can count on me,” Piotr nodded before stealing a glance at Maya’s mugshot. The Professor was giving him a chance to deal with the thief himself like he had trusted him to handle Wade, and Piotr could not let him down. “What happened tonight will not happen again.”

“Good,” The Professor let out a satisfied hum before turning to the door. “We’ve all had a long night so I suggest that you all turn in for a well earned rest.”

Piotr and NTW remained in the room while the rest of X-Men, Nathan, and Wade followed the Professor. Wade opened his mouth, no doubt to make an obnoxious quip, but Nathan roughly grabbed him by the ear before he could form a single word. Wade released a flood of insults at Nathan as he pulled him out of the room.

Once Wade’s screeching voice was far enough away, Piotr released a deep sigh as he rested his hands on the table. NTW slumped in her seat as she glared at Maya Durand’s mugshot.

“She’s not even here but it feels like she’s mocking us.”

“We will get her,” Piotr reassured her. “I have plan.”

NTW peered at him questionably, “And what is your plan exactly?”

“We wait until she strikes again,” Piotr decided. “She is practically ghost. No use finding her until she is hired for next job.”

NTW’s puzzled look grew, “So what do we do in the meantime? Twiddle our thumbs and hope she makes an appearance soon?”

Piotr shook his head as he pulled the device closer to him from the center of the table. He felt as if Maya Durand was standing in front of him with her mugshot only inches away from his face. No matter how hard he tried he couldn’t take his eyes off of her. Her alluring mischievous eyes were like an addictive toxin that fueled his need to put her behind bars.

“While we wait, we learn as much as we can,” Piotr asserts, narrowing his eyes at Maya’s picture. “We will not underestimate her again.”

“Not the best plan, but it's the only one we’ve got,” NTW said listlessly, before sliding out of her chair. With a yawn on her lips, she made her way to the exit to go to bed.

Piotr chuckled at her blunt (yet true) assessment as he settled into his chair. He had a long night ahead of him, but he could not think of any other options that would end in anything besides frustration and embarrassment. Besides, his experience had taught him that good things always come to those who wait.

And he would wait for a century if it meant he would be the one that put Maya Durand behind bars.

-----

Tag list: @master-sass-blast @sadstonewrites

[wolfprincesszola]

The Fate of the Marked Six Chapter 15

this is so fanfic writer of me but sorry i didn't get this out sooner, i got into a car accident right after work and couldn't come home to write LMAOOOO anyways, time for a logan-centric chapter <3. as always, reblogs and likes are appreciated! enjoy <3 ——————– Summary: Virgil moves into a new town and meets Roman, a ghost that he promises to help in finding the unfinished business needed to pass over. However, Roman's past seemed to be deeply muddled with trouble, an uncurable disease that has started to affect a classmate, and a certain tight-lipped valedictorian. Friendships are made and Virgil finds himself thrown into a situation far more complicated and twisted than he signed up. Hopefully, with the help of his new five friends, he can find a way to bring peace to the town once and for all.

Trigger Warning: None

Content Warning: Swearing

<Masterlist>

<Previous> <Next> ——————–

Chapter 15

“You’re acting off.” Logan played with the flowers in his hair to make a flower crown as Patton joined Logan in the top most level of the auditorium. He sat down next to Logan, not saying anything.

“What’s wrong?” Logan never broke eye contact with the stage, watching as Remus and Janus were performing together. It would be a while before Patton had to get back on stage, which was why he was currently prancing around the auditorium.

“Nothing.” Patton replied, almost emotionless. If the sentiment had come from Logan, it would've made sense, but this was Patton. Sweet, cheerful, moral Patton. Patton who always was feeling something.

Logan turned to him, raising an eyebrow, “You’re acting like me. Why?”

“It’s seriously nothing.” Patton sighed, “Why can’t I just sit next to you?”

“Because I know you, Morris. You’re here to tell me something.” Logan finally turned to Patton to see the hurt look in his eyes and then he knew, “Or here to ask me something. Ask.”

“You broke your leg on purpose. Why?”

“Remus was more comfortable with Janus being Juliet. Who am I to be in the way of them wanting to find their place with each other?”

“But you could’ve just subbed out today. Just said you were sick or something! Why did you have to go and break your leg?”

“I’m fine now.” Logan raised an eyebrow, pointing to his leg which was no longer in a boot.

“You still have to use crutches.” Patton pointed out.

“Ah, it’s just the inability to use my foot. Physical therapy will get me back to normal soon.” Logan waved it off.

“Why do you do this? I don’t understand.”

“Do what?”

“You constantly put others before yourself and it frustrates the hell out of me.” Patton groaned, careful to not raise his voice, “I mean, you first risked your entire life for your brother when you were younger. You break your leg for Remus. You push your limits with your power to keep me safe. You stop sleeping to help Remus solve the mystery behind his cancer. You say things you don’t mean to comfort us-”

“I get it.” Logan interrupted Patton. “You don’t have to tell me twice that I’m hurting myself, but isn’t it better that I do it for others than anything?”

“I don’t think you understand.” Patton blinked as he grabbed the flowers out of Logan’s hand to help the boy with his flower crown, “I genuinely mean this in a caring way. I care about you, which is why I want you to stop hurting yourself because soon enough, you’ll find yourself with everyone taking advantage of you.”

“I know my limits.”

Patton looked up at the stage where the scene ended and he stood up, finishing the flower crown and putting it on Logan’s head, “I don’t think you do, Lo.”

With that, he walked away to get ready to be on stage.

-+=~=+-

As soon as the play was done, Logan went looking for Patton. he couldn’t find him anywhere.

“Hey, has anyone seen Patton?” Logan asked as he went backstage to congratulate the people he was learning to call his friends.

They shook their heads, but Janus thought, “I think I saw him dash out the side as soon as curtain calls were done. We were planning to go out for food to celebrate opening night. Wanna come, Logan?”

Logan glanced around the room to see that Patton’s hoodie was still hung on one of the chairs. Patton was still inside the school, at least he knew that.

“I think I’ll try to find Patton first. We’ll catch up.” Logan nodded as he watched the rest of them walk.

He walked over to where he saw Patton's signature grey cat hoodie. Grabbing it, he decided to take Janus’s advice and look for him near the side doors.

Logan was greeted with the outside cold and the full moon. Looking up, he stared before he saw that the stars were visible for one of the first few times, despite there being just as much light pollution as there usually was. Logan knew it had something to do with someone’s magic and if he had to bet, it was Caleb sending him a message. Logan decided that he would take his bait.

He took off his crystal necklace and pocketed it, walking around the school until he saw a familiar figure huddled in the corner of a hidden alley.

“They’re going out for food. You didn’t want in?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Nah.” Patton scooted over for Logan to join him. Logan sat down, “You still have the flower crown on.”

“Course I do. My lovely friends gave it to me.”

Patton gave a small smile, “And the robot turns into someone with a heart after all.”

“Don’t push it, Morris.” Logan sighed, “What’s wrong?”

“Hm?”

“You’ve been off. Granted, I thought you would figure it out by now, so I didn’t point it out, but now I realize that I need to. What’s wrong?”

“Ah, it’s nothing. Just some feelings that I shouldn’t be feeling.”

“I know what that’s like.” Logan snorted, “I mean, I’m the king of feeling things I shouldn’t be feeling. Tell me.”

“Why don’t you take a guess?” Patton asked, “I’m miserably sitting here instead of celebrating opening night with my friends while I have to stare at the fact that I messed up on auditions.”

“Ah.” Logan sighed, remembering how Patton had been the first one to go, and had a panic attack, so much so that Logan had to take him to the nurse to calm down. Logan ended up doing his audition after Virgil after they had returned and Patton had calmed down. “You wanted something, but you didn’t get it. Let me guess, Romeo?”

“It’s my dream to go on the stage. Don’t get me wrong, I’m so proud of Remus getting the role, but I’m also just a tad jealous that he got it instead of me.” Patton sighed. "And I know I shouldn't be feeling like this. I know Roman was really rooting that I'd be able to be Romeo and perform the same way he did. I wanted him to live through me even for a little bit."

“You’re allowed to feel that way. You’re not allowed to bottle it up.” Logan stood up, holding his hand out, “Come on, they’re waiting for you to get that food.”

“Not you?” Patton raised an eyebrow, grabbing Logan’s hand, which Logan slipped Patton his crystal necklace.

Logan shook his head, “I have something I need to do. I’ll see you guys later. Tell them I said hi.”

He tried to hand Patton his hoodie, but Patton shook his head, “Keep it. You look a lot colder than I do.”

Logan sighed, putting it on. It smelt like Patton: a mix of mint, flowers, and that classic Patton scent. He then walked away, saluting with two fingers to him as a sign of goodbye.

“Alright, Caleb.” Logan muttered under his breath, “Let’s go see if you actually want me to bite your bait.”

-+=~=+-

Logan wasn’t that good at walking yet. Not without his crutch. So while he was capable of chasing Caleb without a crutch, he knew it would be better if he had some help.

So here he was, walking through the town with his crutch. In the outskirts, near the woods, he saw Patton. Raising an eyebrow, he walked over to him, “Patton? I thought you were out having food with the theater kids.”

Patton turned and Logan was alerted to a couple red flags. Red flag number one: his brow was arched more than usual. Red flag number two: he didn’t have a mole on his chin. Red flag number three: when he walked, he leaned more towards the right instead of the left.

However, all he muttered was, “Help.” and Logan ignored it to ask him what was wrong.

“I left our friends once I saw something, but I think that something is following me. Here, you need to check it out. You know self-defense, right?”

“Yeah, I can help you sedate them. Then, we can call the police to handle it.” Logan stared at faux Patton before he decided to take the bait. He took off Patton’s cardigan and put it on the side of the road, “Okay, let’s go.”

“Bring your jacket. You look cold.” Patton remarked.

Red flag number four: he didn’t recognize his own jacket.

“Well…we are coming back, right?”

“At least put it off to the side so someone doesn’t flag you as missing upon seeing it.”

He was counting on someone flagging it.

Logan moved Patton’s jacket, whispering a spell. “Ingjuta min magi på detta föremål, om blod skulle tas, om jag ska uttala ett rop på hjälp, sök den person jag har närmast mig, och hjälpa dem att hitta den person jag är.”

With that, they walked into the woods.

“So where is this thing you need to show me, Patton?”

“It’s close.” Faux Patton snapped at him. “Just trust me.”

Red flag number five: he didn’t call Logan "Lo". Patton always called Logan that at least once, even if Logan found nicknames to be a surefire way to not be taken seriously.

Then, they arrived outside of a cave that was glowing. Logan knew something was wrong and he dodged as he felt the hair on the back of his neck stand up. A man came through and Logan stared in his eyes. They were purple.

“Ghost?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

“Think again.” The man growled, as he tried to grab Logan. Logan dodged every inflicting attack, and he brought up his crutch to hit the man in the face. Before he could though, he felt something impale him. He coughed, looking down. He had been stabbed.

He turned to see Faux Patton behind him, knowing whoever was disguised as Patton was who stabbed him. Collapsing on the ground, Logan's crutch a few feet away from him, he took deep breaths, doing his best to pretend as if it didn’t bother him that he had just gotten stabbed, “I didn’t think you would let your facade down so fast.”

“Well, I didn’t need you harming an innocent man.” Faux Patton smirked.

“I could say the same about you.” Logan smirked. “What? Are you going to leave me out here to die?”

“No, it’s not your time yet. You still have information I need, and you’re the key to getting what I want. Come on, I’ll get someone to heal you once you’re safe in my captivity.”

“Like I’d let you take me.” Logan spat as he swatted his hand through Faux Patton. A ghost.

“See, you don’t have a choice.” Faux Patton smirked as the man he was dodging grabbed him.

Logan struggled, moving around, only to have his flower crown fall off. He groaned, before deciding to do the only thing he knew how to do. A spell infused with his magical aura. It didn’t need to be a spell already made, but it had to have the same effect. With all the last strength in him, he muttered it out.

“For the boy with a heart made of exhaust, from my power it will drain, curse the ones who made me lost, give love strength until I can return again.”

Then, magic drained so fast out of his system that he was quick to become light headed. Everything turned black.

-+=~=+-

When Logan woke up, he was on a stone floor. It was cold and Logan tried to move only to find out both his hands were chained behind his back to the wall. He cursed, knowing it was the one day he had decided not to keep bobby pins in his hair for that clean-cut look. Had he, he would’ve picked the lock already. The room was dark, except for the natural light that came from a small square of open bars on the ceiling.

If Caleb knew he had taken the bait, it was only a matter of time before his friends started to look for him, and he would capture all of them, Patton included. He wondered who Faux Patton truly was.

In the darkness, he heard a voice. “Ah, finally, you’ve awoken. As promised, I’ve healed you.”

It wasn’t Faux Patton’s anymore, but it had to be the same person that had stabbed him.

“Wow, thanks.” Sarcasm dripped from his voice, “Did you remember to clean up my blood from the crime scene?”

“Well…we wouldn’t want you to be totally untraceable.” The voice remarked. Logan was sure it was Caleb, but Logan didn’t want to say his name, in fear it would give power to him. After all, names held power, especially when it came to magic users.

“Right…what are you here for? Usually, if I’m the bait, the captor doesn’t bother to talk to the prisoner.”

“You’re a unique one, Mr. Sanders.”

“You’re not the only one that’s said that to me. Cut to the chase.”

“You know, I have over a hundred people working for me that are magic users, especially in magic spells. Yet none of them could decipher the spell you said. They said it had to be one you just made, which means you have a stronger magical aura that you let on.”

“Oh? Do pray tell.”

“Your family comes from a long line of strong magic users. I thought, since you were adopted, it would be different. However, doing a spell you just made proves differently. I guess it makes sense that strong magic users attract strong magic users.”

“Okay?”

“No one I have working for me has that much magic. I need to know what you casted.”

“And why would I tell you?”

“Because if you don’t, in about an hour's time, I’ll have your precious brother in my clutches.”

Logan stiffened, shutting his mouth. He knew that there was a chance Caleb was lying, but he knew there was a bigger chance Caleb wasn't. Caleb already knew his weaknesses. He couldn’t show any more.

“Oh really? Then this will be a nice family reunion. Maybe we can recreate the exact moment he crashed his car and died.”

“I know you care about your brother more than you let on. Why make this difficult?”

“My brother’s lived his life. I’m living mine. Why would it change anything for you to threaten the life of someone who’s already dead, rather than threaten my own life? I mean you’ve stabbed me once already.”

“I’ll get you to give in soon.”

“I don’t think you will.” Logan smirked.

“Everyone has their weaknesses, even someone that has been labeled the ‘robot’. Just because you aren’t showing it doesn’t mean I can’t see the care you have for your brother, or the people you are learning to call your friends. I see everywhere, Logan, and I want you to know that nothing gets past me.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

“Challenge accepted.” Caleb’s voice faded until Logan knew he was alone in the room.

-+=~=+-

It had been three days. Caleb hadn’t tried to contact Logan again. Once in a while, a ghost would come in with a cup of water, but no food. Logan had to learn to ration.

Logan did his best to cease thoughts about the spell he created, just in case there was a ghost that knew how to read thoughts. He didn't know what’s going on in the outside world, but he did know a few things. Magic was draining out of his system to help his friends. He didn't know where it was going, but he was sure it was going to good use. Some things weren't going so well for Caleb and his workers for every once in a while, his spell will take effect and a curse will temporarily be left on the ones that held him. His blood from the stab wound was stained on the grass that they were in at the woods, and it would be found at one point. Finally, he knew that Patton’s hoodie had been found by the person he held closest to the heart because he had drawn blood. He knew they were looking for him, and he knew that they would find him.

The only thing telling his time was passing was the light coming from the bars on the ceiling. He didn’t know where he was, but he saw the sun turn into the moon. He saw the sky shift from blue to orange to pink to black to purple back to blue. He saw stars disappear and reappear.

He was hungry and thirsty, but he knew the pattern of Caleb’s workers. He needed to not think about water until the sun set. Then he could take the last sip of water before he was delivered another few cups. It was the only thing keeping his alive at that point.

The only clue he had that Caleb was doing something was that sometimes a worker, when coming in with water, would whisper to him that he needed to help Patton. That was the only thing he knew. Patton was in danger, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Caleb already had him in his clutches. Logan needed to save Patton from whatever trouble he was put in.

-+=~=+-

The workers stopped giving him water. He hadn’t been fed food. It would only be about a week before he would reach his dying point. Once he knew that Caleb wasn’t going to continue with keeping him alive, he stopped sleeping. It hurt his body and he felt weaker, but he knew that something could happen if he were to fall asleep.

Finally, he couldn’t take it anymore. He decided to see if giving power to the name would make the ghost appear.

“Caleb!” The room echoed his name over and over again, almost taunting Logan.

“Come out, you bastard, and face me!” Logan shouted once again, his eyes darting around to where the darkness was.

Then, out of the darkness, a light was shone directly on him. He blinked, looking to see a floating flashlight. Probably a worker. He blinked to let his eyes adjust to the light before he stared at the man in a black tux, holding a cane. His hair was slicked back, and looked about 40 to 50 years old. He grinned, using his cane to lift Logan’s chin up, “You smart little boy. Thank you for using my name.”

That wasn’t what he was expecting Caleb to look like. He hated the fact that Caleb did. The only thing he noticed was the red eyes that Remus had described were following him, along with the cane sound. Everything that they were thinking had just been confirmed true.

Logan moved his face away from the cane, glaring, “Where’s Patton?”

“Ah yes, your beloved-”

“He’s not-” Logan began frustratedly.

“Of course not.” Caleb scoffed, rolling his eyes as he cut off Logan, “It’s just that you came all the way here under the pretense of thinking he was in danger because of me.”

Logan decided to play along with Caleb’s game. By now, the two of them knew that Caleb had faked being Patton under the pretense that Patton was in danger. However, Logan needed to be reassured that he didn’t have Patton in his clutches. “Under the pretense…so you don’t have him?”

“No, you dolt.” Caleb scoffed, hitting Logan’s head with the cane, causing the cane to scrape against his head. He flinched in pain, but even after the cane drew blood, he didn’t scream of pain. “You’re the bait for him.”

“Why?” Logan croaked, “There is nothing I could offer him. I have been nothing but cruel to him all his life.”

“Oh, but you’re wrong. He was the first one to authorize a search party for you. He is still looking for you, even when the search party disbands for the night. Even when your parents have stopped looking for the night to get some rest, he shows up to school after getting an hour of sleep with no luck of finding where you were. Right now, he has been a mess since you’ve been gone.”

“It doesn’t make sense.” Logan scoffed, “You’re lying.”

Caleb rolled his eyes before he waved his hand and Logan watched as the mist in the air formed together to create a fog that then became an image. There, he saw Patton. Patton looked like he hadn’t slept in ages with the bags under his eyes and the way his shoulders drooped. He was walking around the hill that Logan had placed his hoodie on, calling for Logan. Logan saw Patton holding his jacket. Logan felt his heart stop.

“Patton!” Logan tried to reach out to the mirage, being pulled back by the chains still clasped to his wrist.

“Believe me now? He cares about you because to him, you have been kind.”

Logan swallowed, his expression now more angry than fearful, “Leave him alone. Leave Remus alone. In fact, leave all my friends alone.”

“Sure, but that risks you forever losing contact with your brother.”

“What?” Logan’s voice cracked. “Leave my brother out of this!”

“Unfortunately, I can’t. He's a ghost, so he’s under my territory. He may not know it yet, but I have complete control of him.”

“What did he ever do to you?” Logan let his emotions take over in his voice. “He was a good kid. He had a good life. He had good potential. Why is it that he should have to be under your control when he has been nothing but good his entire life?”

“Why, he has control over you, and you have control over Patton.”

“I didn’t know Patton before Roman’s death!” Logan scoffed.

“Because I made sure of that.” Caleb rolled his eyes. “Everything has been laid out for your life, for your brother’s life since you were born. Because I knew you were the one thing most important to the special one.”

The special one. Patton. Patton had seen this in his vision. He was the special one. The one in the prophecy.

“He’s the special one. Patton has something you want.”

“Yes and I am going to get it, no matter how long it takes or how difficult the task is.”

“He doesn’t deserve this.” Logan shook his head, “You can’t do this to him.”

“Oh? But I already am.” Caleb grinned, turning around and snapping his fingers. The flashlight went out and Logan coughed, collapsing to the ground. Logan struggled to sit back up, but once he did, he knew he couldn’t let anyone keep his there.

Looking around, he saw a single bobby pin on the floor. Caleb had made the mistake of distrusting his workers because unlike him, he knew someone on his team had read his mind and had given him the pin. Grabbing it, he slowly found his way to unlock the chains. Once he did, he moved his wrists and tried to stand up. Immediately becoming light-headed, he swore, knowing it would’ve been better had he slept to regain his energy. Still, there was no time. He had to save Patton.

Now that he could move around, he took a closer inspection of the room to find there was a door with a lock he could pick. Once he did, he made sure to hide behind any areas, looking around. It was a lot brighter outside the room, and it almost looked like the inside of a wardrobe set.

“Oi, what are you doing here? Get in costume…” A ghost trailed off as he saw Logan’s face once he turned around in surprise, lowering his voice to a whisper, “You shouldn’t be here! Caleb will see you.”

Logan was too stunned to say anything.

“Here. Stay here and then I will explain everything while he’s on stage.”

“What?” Logan raised an eyebrow.

The ghost just guided him to a small passageway that led to a cozy room. “Just stay here, and help yourself to anything.”

Logan examined the room to find out that it was in fact a small kitchen. Ghosts were working throughout, and they didn’t seem to care that Logan was there, instead asking him for help.

“Hey, if you’re going to be in here, you might as well help us cook! We’ve got hundreds of hungry mouths to feed!” A smaller girl, no older than 10, “Stupid Gunnar keeps giving us hideaways!”

Logan blinked, “Can I actually touch anything in here? I mean, I’m assuming you are feeding ghost mouths.”

“Correct.”

“So how am I able to touch it?” Logan asked as the ghost just handed him a ladle.

“Magic. Now come on, we can’t dilly dally. You can help prepare the soup.”

As Logan helped them, he couldn’t help but feel hungry at the aroma that filled the kitchen. Once the giant pot of soup was fully cooked, Logan helped serve the bowls until the pot was completely empty.

“Thank you for the help.” The girl smiled, holding out a plate of food for Logan, “What’s your name?”

“Logan. You look a little young to be a ghost, and sound a little too mature to be this young.” Logan took the food graciously, using the fork to pick it up. he was thoroughly surprised when he was able to touch it, let alone eat it. He tried his best to hide the fact that he hadn’t eaten in a few days.

“I’m Ella. I died when I was 10 to cancer, but I learned to grow up after being here for over 50 years. In reality, I’m probably 75 years old or something. I stopped counting a long time ago. I run this kitchen.”

“So you cook every day for all the ghosts?”

“Sort of. Ghosts don’t exactly need food, but we always have a huge feast whenever Caleb performs.”

“When does Caleb perform?”

“When another person dies and he wants to recruit them.” Ella replied, “Gunnar, the person that brought you down here, is the head of costuming. He directs everything, but behind that whole act of needing everything to go perfectly to plan, he has a heart.”

“So, what are you guys doing here?”

“Ah, Caleb. He’s the boss of everything.”

“What do you mean?”

Ella pulled her sleeve down to showcase a stamp on her wrist. “When Caleb first makes contact with us, he stamps us. Then, we’re forced to make a deal with him to work for him for eternity if we don’t want to die. The few people who have refused never go up to the afterlife. All our souls belong to him, so we have to work here.”

“That’s awful.”

“He controls all the powers too. So any powers we have, he can use to an extent. Not as well as we can though.”

“Do you have a power?”

“I can create fire.” Ella smiled, opening her palm to showcase a little flame. “That’s mainly why I was placed in the kitchen.”

Someone came in through the kitchen and the two stood up in surprise. Logan grabbed a nearby knife and Ella stood in front of Logan in a protective stance.

“Feisty, aren’t you two?” Gunnar smiled at them. The two relaxed and Logan put the knife back where it was. “I guess you’ve been acquainted with Ella already.”

“You need to stop pushing runaways into the kitchen.”

“Ai, you know it’s the only place that Caleb would never check.” Gunnar tsked. “I’m guessing you’re one of the six of the prophecy. What’s your name?”

“Logan.” Logan introduced herself.

“Full name.” Gunnar corrected himself.

“Sanders.”

Immediately, Gunnar and Ella shared a look with each other.

“You don’t exactly look like a Sanders.”

“I was adopted.” Logan murmured, “Why?”

“No wonder there was such a strain put on you to make sure that you were safe.”

“What?”

“There’s a prophecy that Caleb has been obsessed with since he first started targeting the Sanders.” Gunnar hesitated, “I am unsure if you want to hear it.”

“I do.”

“Generation after generation, seek the red carnation. Throughout all the Sanders, look for the one that is a magic commander. If what you seek for is power, they will bring you to the pink hydrangea flower. Lives lost and many crossed, a man willing to find the special one at any cost. Succeed if every generation is decimated, or rue the day he was betrayed by the ones he dictated.”

Logan repeated it under his breath. “Do you know what it means?”

“We were hoping you knew.” Gunnar looked. “We have been some of the lucky ones. There are some ghosts that have been working for him since he first became a ghost. We still have a chance of rebelling.”

“What kind of magic do you have, Gunnar?”

“I can do spells in my head. Do you need this written down?”

“Yes, please.”

Gunnar waved his hand and suddenly it appeared on Logan's hand.

“Don’t worry, it’s not permanent.” Gunnar winked, “It’ll go away once the prophecy is fulfilled.”

“Thank you.”

Gunnar looked around, “Caleb is performing and will be occupied for the next three hours. Within that time, you have to find a way to escape. We cannot help you beyond here because we are trapped within our areas. There will be many that aren’t as keen to help you.”

“Why are you two being so nice to me? After all, Caleb is your boss.”

“He’s a really bad one.” Gunnar snorted, “If you ever find yourself in a pickle with Caleb, please do know that we two will be willing to help.”

Logan smiled weakly, “Thank you.”

“For your travels.” Ella held out a cup, “You look tired and thirsty.”

Logan took a sip of the cup, “Coffee, thank you.”

“Good luck, we hope to see you again soon.” Gunnar held out a black cloak, “For you to stay in the darkness.”

“I hope I can help free you. I have a friend that wants to help as many ghosts as possible find their unfinished business. If I ever do get you out of this, remind me to introduce you guys.”

With that, Logan walked away, ready to conquer the depths of Caleb’s lair.

-+=~=+-

When Logan walked into what seemed to be the exit, it was a corridor that led to over a thousand rooms, and so he slowly started to push through each of the doors, only to find out that most of them were storage, or ways to ward off people like his who were unfamiliar with the place.

Every once in a while, he would hear voices and he would hide in a room he knew was storage, or in the darkness, with the use of his cloak. Most of the voices would be singing, probably to help Caleb perform.

It was only when he heard a certain song that made him freeze. It was a song that he had never heard anyone else sing except for his father. When he was younger, it was the only way to get him to sleep. When asked where the song came from, his father would wave it off, unsure himself.

“Between the here, between the now.” The voice sang throughout the corridor, it almost sounded angelical as it echoed. “Between the north, between the south.”

Logan cracked the door open slightly in order to see who it was. The figure looked young, probably about his mother’s age, but he knew the person had to be older than that.

“Between the time, between the place. From the shell, a song of the sea.”

There was no one near the figure, so coming out of the room, he made sure to move quietly while following the figure.

However, it seemed the figure was two steps ahead as it turned, ready to pin Logan to the wall in self-defense. However, they just passed through him, and then Logan got a good view of who it was.

“Who are you?” The ghost raised an eyebrow, “Lifers aren’t supposed to be back here.”

“What song are you singing?” Logan pulled down his cloak hood to show his face.

“Still haven’t answered my question, lifer.”

“Neither quiet nor calm, searching for love again, mo ghrá.” Logan sang, although admittedly off-key.

“You’re a horrible singer.” The ghost gave a small smile.

“I know.”

“But I do wonder, how you know that song. It’s a song that my family has passed down throughout the years.”

“My dad used to sing it for me to help me fall asleep.” Logan murmured, “Who are you?”

“You first.”

“Logan Sanders.” Logan replied.

“Jasmine Sanders.” The woman replied before the both of them heard a sound.

Jasmine turned, “Let’s go talk somewhere private.”

Logan pulled up his hood and followed him. Jasmine led his down to a dressing room.

“Here, no one will bother us. Not even Caleb. Now, talk. You don’t look like one of my descendants.”

“Well, there are a few Sanders here in this town.” Logan shrugged before he thought about it, “Actually if there are so many Sanders in this town, why is it that Caleb decided to tackle my family line?”

“There was a magical pull that brought Caleb to the prophecy and that’s the same one that brought him to the family line. In fact, I feel that same magical pull from you. You’re one of my descendants, aren’t you? How is that possible?”

“Adopted.” Logan wondered how many times he would have to say the same thing. “Were you one of the ones who faced off against Caleb?”

“No. My sister was though.”

Logan thought back, “She was only 5, wasn’t she?”

“Yeah. She never stood a chance.”

“Are you going to report me to Caleb?” Logan asked.

“Ay, no.” Jasmine sighed, “He killed my sister and then forced me to work for him after I became a ghost. If anything, I’m just waiting for the prophecy to happen. Make him rue the day he was betrayed by the ones he dictated. I’m sure most of us are.”

“Most?”

“Well, no one really enjoys being employed for all eternity.” Jasmine smiled, “But…yeah there are still a select few who will always be loyal to Caleb. Let’s hope we don’t run into them.”

“Are you going to guide me to the exit?”

“I can’t.” Jasmine murmured, “I have to go on in a couple of minutes. Just continue to the end of the hallway. The exit will be the door furthest to the right. Not the door that says exit above it. That brings you to the main entrance where Caleb is performing.”

“Okay.” Logan nodded.

“Go.” Jasmine murmured, slipping something into his hand. Logan clutched onto it, deciding to look at it after he was out. “I’ll have some friends watching you to make sure you make it out safely.”

The two of them moved and Logan said goodbye as he rushed towards the exit. He needed to tell his friends everything.

Then, he heard a voice from the beginning of the corridor. Holding his breath, he hid from the darkness.

“Jasmine, aren’t you supposed to be getting ready to perform?”

“I just needed to touch up on my makeup.”

“Well, hurry!” Caleb’s voice seemed urgent. “I just found out that the lifer escaped from his prison.”

“Who?” Jasmine raised an eyebrow.

Caleb paused before he answered and then suddenly, Logan had to stop himself from gasping when he heard Jasmine choking.

“You know who helped his escape, don’t you Jasmine?”

“What are you talking about?” Jasmine gasped for air.

“There’s no reason you wouldn’t know.” Caleb snarled, “After all, he is your descendant.”

“The prisoner?” Jasmine played dumb.

“Oh don’t play dumb with me. You’ve always been one to be upset with my ways with handling your family. There’s no way you decided this was an exception. Tell me who and I’ll spare you.”

Then, Logan heard Jasmine say one word that changed the atmosphere.

“No.” She said it almost smugly in a way that Caleb had no way of knowing who helped Logan. It could’ve been anyone by the looks of how tired they were.

“You idiot.” Caleb growled, “Don’t you understand that if I fall, so do you? You have no place to exist without me. Come on, we’re going to make a lesson out of you.”

With that, the two left and Logan sighed in relief, only to find himself surrounded by a few other ghosts around him, also hiding.

“Come on. We can’t let her sacrifice go to waste, hun.” One of the ghosts looked back at where Caleb and Jasmine left with a hint of sadness.

Logan looked down at the thing he had been clutching from Jasmine to see it was a book. A book of spells. One he would no doubt give to Patton. Although any magic caster could do the spells, the more powerful the aura, the stronger the spell.

“Come on.” They urged Logan again and Logan followed them until he was left with three doors at the end. A left door, the middle door with the glowing exit sign above the head, and the right door towards the actual exit.

“If I accidentally walk through the wrong door, can I find the exit from there?”

“Of course you can. There will always be an exit. But don’t you think of going through the wrong door. We’re showing you it’s the right one.”

Logan looked back before he took a deep breath, “I’m sorry, but I can’t let the people who help me get hurt. I need to help Jasmine.”

With that, he walked through the middle door and came to a cafe with a stage in the front where Caleb was with Jasmine.

“Hey!” Logan yelled, putting his hood down, “Put her down!”

Jasmine seemed alarmed by Logan, shaking her head. By the look in her eyes, she was saying it was a lost cause. However, it was a good thing Logan specialized in lost causes.

Flipping through the spell book, a spell caught his eye. One that could stun. He muttered it and felt the magic surrounding him and shooting out to stun Caleb. Having that cup of coffee and some food really helped him.

Caleb froze and in that moment, Jasmine was able to escape. She motioned to Logan. “Come on, let’s escape before anything.”

They didn’t get very far before Caleb was after them.

“Leave it to me.” Jasmine’s eyes flashed with a blue Logan was very familiar with. It was the same color of blue eyes Patton had. He blinked and swatted the thought out of his mind as he watched Jasmine step in front of his and start muttering spells left and right.

All of them were made to protect Logan throughout it all.

“Hand over the prisoner.” Caleb yelled, “If you do, maybe I’ll think about sparing you. Just throwing you in the dungeon.”

“I have been working for you way too long. I don’t need to hear what you say.” Jasmine yelled back, ready for another spell. “You can kill me. I would rather have you do that than for you to-”

Caleb just held his hand up with his fingers together, cutting Jasmine off. Anytime Jasmine tried to speak, no sound came out of her mouth.

“Try casting magic with no voice.” Caleb smirked.

He dodged a fireball Jasmine casted at him.

“Oh…I guess you can. Well that ruins any chance I have at convincing you. Logan, my lovely red carnation.”

“What?” Logan asked, tensing up, “Why did you call me that?”

“Oh, I’m sure if you’ve become acquainted with your lovely relative here, you’ve heard the prophecy. Decades of searching and I’ve finally found the key to the power I need.” Caleb grinned, “I’m sure you don’t want anything bad to happen to your lovely friends, do you?”

“You have nothing on them.” Logan yelled back. “You’re a ghost, what can you do to them?”

“Sure they may have those crystals which keep me away from them, but you don’t. All I need to do is manipulate them.” Caleb grinned, using his magic to change the mist into a vision of what was happening.

Logan’s heart dropped as he saw Patton. Patton was still calling for Logan's name. Patton stumbled and fell down until he was on the ground. There, he finally let the tears out. Logan watched as Patton broke down before he started muttering the same thing over again, “Please don’t be dead.”

Logan’s heart broke, wanting to reach out to help him. “Patton…”

He wanted to reassure Patton that he would come back and help him. That Logan would find him and save him.

“All I have to do is snap my fingers, and suddenly, a replacement will show up.”

“You can’t do that!”

“Can I not?” Caleb raised an eyebrow, snapping his fingers and Logan watched as someone stumbled out of the woods who looked too much like him. They were wearing the same clothes, and looked worse off for wear. The only thing really different between them was the emotion in Faux Logan’s face. Everything else was the same between the clothing, the dried blood on his forehead and the dried blood near where he got stabbed, the messy hair, and the heavy bags under his eyes.

“Patton, don’t fall for it.” Logan murmured, hoping that some of his magic would stay with him throughout all this. That he would realize he was still missing.

Then he watched as Faux Logan called out for Patton. “Patton…”

Patton looked up, surprised to see the boy, and worried. He rushed to his side. “Logan! What happened? Are you okay?”

Logan, who had assumed that Faux Logan was a ghost, was proved wrong as soon as Patton made contact with him, helping him to walk.

Faux Logan just shook his head.

“Come on, let’s get you to safety and then we can talk about it.” Patton murmured as they walked off together.

Faux Logan turned to look back, and the vision showed their eyes. Flicking from the brown that Logan saw in the mirror every day to a faint purple mixed in the brown.

“Laying it on a bit thick, aren’t you?” Logan crossed his arms, raising his eyebrows.

“Now, no one’s out there trying to find you.”

Logan put the spell book back into Jasmine’s hand, muttering softly, “Go after them. Please. I can stay here. I’m the one he wants.”

Then he stepped forward, “Alright fine. I’ll stop fighting, as long as you don’t punish Jasmine…or anyone else for that matter. Anyone who helped me.”

“Well, you’d have to tell me who helped you in order for me to promise that.”

“Nice try. Just don’t punish any of your workers and it would have the same effect.”

“Now where’s the fun in that?” Caleb smirked.

Logan raised an eyebrow, “Do we have a deal?”

“Fine.” Caleb sighed, “Everyone, get back to work. Mr. Sanders, you’re coming with me.”

Logan followed Caleb, nodding to Jasmine as Jasmine left.

Jasmine would make sure Patton was safe. He was sure of it. After all, Patton’s magical aura made it almost impossible for people not to want to help him upon seeing him.

Patton would be fine. He had to be. ——————– i've been watching ace attorney playthroughs again recently and logicality is so narumitsu coded and you can't tell me otherwise

If you enjoyed this, please consider reblogging! Reblogging helps me a lot and it's just two clicks of a button (trust me, likes don't do anything to help me). Check out my masterlist for more, feel free to request any writings, and stick around if you want to see the rest of what I have in store for this! :)

[ascalonianlightbringer]

I'm wrapping up "The Accusation," after Minister Arton claimed innocence and agreed to surrender himself to the custody of the Shining Blade. Logan sent Gwen off to question Sergeant Hal, a former member of Falcon Company who transferred out and currently patrols eastern Divinity's Reach.

Specifically, he's found in Rurikton, the Ascalonian district of Divinity's Reach. My headcanon is that Gwen spent so much time struggling to survive in the Salma District with her friends that she's unlikely to have participated in the Rurikton community, despite her fierce Ascalonian loyalties.

I imagine her parents were very strong Ascalonian partisans who met in the Vanguard hospital, and ultimately left Gwen and Deborah with the girls' maternal grandfather in DR before rushing off to fight for The Cause in Ascalon and getting themselves killed. Deborah, the older daughter, resented her parents' abandonment and was committed to making a new life in Kryta, while Gwen is more sympathetic to their parents, loathes the Charr with particular fervor, and is curious and eager to see Rurikton and Ebonhawke properly.

Rurikton, showing the age a bit, but still cool.

But she has other priorities now, so she briefly takes in the lions and memorials as she's hurrying to find Sergeant Hal.

Hal immediately assumes that Gwen is an agent of Tervelan out to kill him, which he figured would happen eventually once he put the pieces together. It's not clear how long it's been since Falcon Company was ambushed, but my impression is a pretty decent while—months, maybe even a year or two. But he must have thought Tervelan was taking his sweet time if so.

Gwen assures him she's from Logan and asks why Tervelan would want him killed, and he immediately opens up and says he was Tervelan's messenger. He wasn't told any details about the messages he carried to the woods or their ultimate recipients, but he figured out that it had something to do with the ambush and transferred out as soon as he could. He thinks another former Falcon, Dansky, might know more. She left the Seraph altogether and joined the Lionguard (who don't even answer to the Krytan government, just the melting pot city-state of Lion's Arch).

So, off to the south to find the Lionguard haven Dansky is posted at these days. It's in the next zone from the entire Queensdale zone outside DR, but I'd be putting distance between me and Tervelan if I were her, too.

Sure enough, as the mission starts, a bunch of bandits attack the haven without even pretending they're there to steal anything. Gwen, level 80 mesmer that she is, didn't have much trouble wiping them out with, well, pink greatsword lasers (mesmer greatsword is the best greatsword, change my mind).

Dansky is fine, but a bit rattled and confused about the aimless attack. Gwen suspects it was directed specifically at taking out Dansky herself to halt Gwen and Logan's investigation (our mystery minister's reach is long, apparently). In any case, the moment Gwen mentions the investigation, Dansky is incredibly relieved to hear that Tervelan is corrupt, as she always suspected.

Dansky was the other messenger back in the day. She carried messages to the Ministry, which seemed to be directed to Minister Arton's office, but she discovered afterwards that the person who received them from her was a total stranger to Arton's people. She survived because she had been injured when Falcon Company was ambushed, and left the Seraph altogether afterwards. Smart, honestly, though maybe reporting all this enormously suspicious information to someone at the time would have been helpful.

At any rate, she tells Gwen where the Falcons were headed when they got ambushed.

It's also possible to get slightly different information after the cut scene. There's an option to threaten her with an accusation of treason (...), request help with a legal matter, or ask for help in a slightly flattering way, the last of which seemed most Gwen's style. Dansky is eager to help—apparently Tervelan would punish the soldiers with "corporal discipline" for ever asking questions and terrorized them into keeping quiet.

She tells Gwen that if any members of the company were taken captive, they'd be sold to local slavers. Although human slaves seem mostly kept by centaurs in general, some of the human bandits trade in captives, so she directs Gwen to a camp that seems in the right general area.

And that concludes "The Accusation"! Onto the finale.

[delimeful]

hold my body down (2)

chapter 2 of this fic!

warnings: arguing, mild violence, cult mentions, mild gore mentions

-

Virgil stared at the man, his mind blank. What?

“That’s-- great?” Roman tried, his voice cracking in the middle with bewilderment. The human beamed, beckoning with his hand. Roman reached out and Virgil slapped his hand back, glowering at him.

“What have I said about accepting help from random friendly men?” he hissed, eyeing the stranger warily. Roman flushed, shoving him slightly, but notably didn’t try to move forward again.

The man-- Patton’s smile didn’t falter, but his hand dropped slightly. Virgil refused to feel bad. For once, he was completely sure that his level of paranoia was necessary for the situation.

“Oh, that’s okay,” Patton said, folding onto his knees to sit on the edge of the bag’s opening. “I can just explain from over here. I would come to sit in the bag with you, but last time I did that I got held hostage and Logan put a ban on interacting with terrified strangers without his direct supervision.”

“That, uh, seems rather fair,” Roman offered, still wildly out of his depth. Virgil rolled his eyes, a hand on the hilt of one of his daggers in case the stranger made any sudden moves.

“Who’s Logan?” He asked, eyes flickering up to what little he could see through the opening.

“Oh, he’s the one who rescued you!” Patton said cheerily. Virgil broke out into a cold sweat immediately.

“Rescued?” Roman echoed in disbelief. “Are you talking about the giant? Because I’m pretty sure he just abducted us against our will.”

“No, no, it’s not like that!” Patton insisted, only confirming Virgil’s theory that he was probably brainwashed and/or had Stockholm syndrome. Or both. Or a variety of other, worse options, such as yet another cult member or another giant in disguise.

“Easy, Virgil.” Roman laid a hand on his shoulder, grounding him. “Uh-- Patton, was it? If we’re not being… y’know… kidnapped and imprisoned, do you think you could back up so we can get out of the bag?”

“Of course!” Patton answered, popping back to his feet. “I’ll be right out here, take your time! I’m sure the last couple of hours have been rough.”

Virgil tried not to snort. Rough was one word for it. His amusement died a quick death when Roman began moving towards the opening. He latched onto the other man’s arm like a steel trap. “I don’t trust this.”

“You don’t trust anything,” Roman retorted automatically before softening. “It’s okay, I’m just checking to see what’s out there. Won’t even get out of the bag, on my honor.”

Virgil reluctantly followed him, grabbing onto him tightly as though he could keep anything out there from hurting him by yanking him back into the bag.

Roman ducked his head back under the cloth a moment later. “Okay. Bad news, there is absolutely a giant still out there. Good news, he’s all the way over across the room, reading a book. He is steadfastly ignoring both us and Patton, who waved at me.”

“What.” Virgil clutched at his hair. “What is going on?”

“I suspect we’ll have to ask Patton that. If we want answers, we’ll have to go get them,” He said, patting Virgil on the back encouragingly. “Don’t worry, my Dark and Stormy Knight, I’ll keep you safe.”

“My job,” Virgil grumbled, not releasing his grip on Roman’s wrist as he led the way out of the bag.

Everything was huge. He should have expected it, seeing as this was a giant’s home, but it still threw him off. They were on a huge table, in a huge living room, and the giant was indeed across the room with a huge book, pretending like they didn’t exist. From this distance, Virgil could actually take in all of him without feeling like he was going to pass out.

Patton was sitting a few feet away, and beamed at their approach. Virgil barely tore his eyes away from the giant long enough to nod distractedly at him. “Hi again! Are you guys okay?”

“We’re… fine,” Roman said, uncertain. “I think we’d just like to know what’s going on?”

“That’s totally understandable!” Patton replied, sympathetic. “I was pretty jittery after Logan first brought me here, too!”

“Oh, great,” Virgil muttered to Roman. “Serial kidnapper.”

Roman shot him a look before turning back to Patton. “He brought you here? Could I ask… why?”

“The same reason he brought you two here! I was in danger.” Patton glanced over to the giant with a fond smile before leaning in secretively. “To be honest, I think he was even more worried than I was! I was sort of stabbed at the time, though, so I guess that makes sense.”

“How were you ‘sort of stabbed’? You’re either stabbed or you’re not!” griped Virgil, who was possibly feeling more snappish than normal after one of the most stressful experiences of his life.

“My goodness, you were stabbed?” asked Roman, who had always been a sucker for a dramatic tale.

Patton tugged up the edge of his shirt, displaying a nasty-looking scar that curved around his side and stomach. In Virgil’s professional opinion, there was nothing ‘sort-of’ about a wound like that; it had been meant to kill. “Yeah, the people you met in town, they’re a cult! And they wanted to do a blood sacrifice for the monsters in the woods, and I wasn’t exactly well-liked, so…,”

“They stabbed you and left you for dead?” Virgil finished, a bit of anger leaking into his voice despite his determination not to sympathize with this guy.

“But I didn’t die!” Patton waved his hands a bit as though in celebration. “All the monsters in the woods had already been scared off when Logan moved here, and so he was the one who found me and helped me recover!”

Roman glanced over at the giant again, a speculative look in his eye that Virgil absolutely did not approve of. He scowled, his grip on Roman’s wrist tightening slightly.

“Right, and he just did this out of the goodness of his heart?” Virgil snorted dubiously. “I wouldn’t believe that from another human, let alone someone with a literally huge advantage over us. If your story is true, why didn’t the cult try to gut us? For that matter, if he’s not into human sacrifices, why wouldn’t your buddy over there just tell them to stop? Or, y’know, not kidnap us in the first place?”

“Well, hold on--,” Patton tried, but Virgil was on a roll.

“How do we know that this isn’t some elaborate setup? If he has the magical capabilities to heal a mortal wound, then wouldn’t it be easy for him to enchant a captive into believing that he’s just doing what’s best for him? Before, you said there were other people brought here-- what happened to them? Do you even know?”

Across the room, there was a sharp clap as the giant firmly snapped his book shut.

“They left,” Logan said firmly, the first words that they’d heard from him. “And if you continue to harangue my housemate, I will ask you to do the same.”

“Logan,” Patton said, a little exasperated.

Virgil felt a chill run down his spine at the sight of those huge, dark eyes locked onto him, but he plastered his best snarl on even as he dragged a protesting Roman partially behind him. “We’d be glad to leave, but someone put us on a table ten times our height!”

“Virgil,” Roman tried, but Virgil didn’t have the luxury of not paying attention to the pissed off giant in front of them.

“There’s a staircase down to your left,” the giant informed him coldly, “so if you are intent on watching your companion die from organ combustion, you have my utmost permission to leave.”

Logan!” Patton chided, a lot exasperated. He turned back to them. “He doesn’t mean it like that, I promise.”

“Really?” Virgil snapped, crowding Roman back further. “Because it sure sounds like he just outright threatened to kill us if we leave.”

“Oh, for goodness’ sake.” Logan pinched the bridge of his nose before rising easily from his chair and reminding them all just how big he truly was. “This is why I let Patton handle the talking. I don’t know why humans always insist on making this more difficult than it needs to be.”

Virgil’s heart jumped into his throat as the giant approached, a thousand potential ways they were going to die flashing before his eyes. Behind his back, he flashed Roman a hand sign that meant ‘run for it’, and then released his friend’s wrist to draw one of his knives threateningly.

It was a pointless effort, but he’d known since setting out with his prince that one day he’d die for him.

Sure enough, the giant moved with that same uncanny speed he’d shown in the clearing, and simply grabbed Virgil’s forearm between his fingers as easily as one might scruff a cat, preventing any stabbing.

When Virgil immediately went to grab for another knife with his free hand, he found himself abruptly lifted and maneuvered, and couldn’t help letting out a startled yelp. The giant had essentially flipped him onto his front and settled one hand on his back as a weight, leaving him pinned and the giant firmly out of stabbing range.

More concerning was the fact that he could now see Roman, who hadn’t moved more than a few steps, and not just because he was a stupidly loyal, headstrong idiot. The prince seemed almost dazed, his skin shiny with sweat as he glanced between Virgil and Logan. Something was wrong. “Roman--!”

“You’re beginning to feel it, aren’t you?” Logan said, his cold tone thawing slightly as he looked down at Roman. “The cult of that town has only grown more... inventive with every cruel sacrifice they attempt. Rather than physical injuries, they’ve turned to blood curses, which has made my life exceedingly difficult.”

“Blood-- Blood curses?” Roman managed, looking more pallid by the moment.

The giant set a free hand down, palm up in offering. “I can reduce the effects. If you give me sufficient time, I can unravel the curse entirely, though brewing a countercurse will likely necessitate a drop of your blood.”

“Why go to the trouble?” Roman asked haltingly, meeting Virgil’s frantic gaze for only a moment. “What do you want in return?”

Logan sighed. “If you insist on applying such intentions to my actions, you can call it compensation. It is because of my presence that the cult continues to leave ‘offerings’, and thus your current state is my fault.”

“Then why not just do it?” Roman asked, staring at the offered hand with clear suspicion. Virgil was almost proud.

“Patton has gone to great lengths to teach me manners for interacting with smallfolk,” Logan replied dryly. “The first of which being ‘don’t grab.’”

There was a brief moment of silence as they all looked to Virgil, who was still pinned and sorely wishing he was in biting range of Logan’s hand.

“Manners don’t apply if someone is trying to stab me,” Logan added, a beat late.

Patton waved from where he was half-hidden behind Logan’s arm. “It’s true, my lessons did make an exception for stabbing!”

“Let him up,” Roman requested, his voice lacking its usual bravado. He still appeared concerningly ill. “He won’t stab you, right Virgil?”

Virgil grumbled something uncomplimentary under his breath, before sighing and going limp. “All I want is to protect my prince. If you actually mean to help him, I won’t stab you.”

“Now that stabbing is off the table, I’ve gotta say, it’s knife to meet you,” Patton chimed in, his grin audible in his voice.

“Patton, please,” Logan groaned, lifting his hand off Virgil to instead massage his temples in exasperation. “You’re going to disturb our guests.”

“Aw, are you sure? I think my jokes are stabsolutely hilarious!”

Virgil ignored the ridiculous byplay between the two of them to scramble to his feet and hurry to Roman’s side, ignoring the way Logan moved his arm slightly to be between him and Patton. “Roman, are you okay?”

“Are you? You’re the one who just got gently tenderized by Bignoramus over there for the second time today,” Roman countered, matching Virgil’s whisper.

“Fine, stupid question, clearly neither of us are okay. Are we really doing this, though? We could still run.”

“I’m… not sure we can, actually.” Roman’s hand hovered over his chest, face drawn tight with pain. “They definitely did something to me, and I doubt either of us will figure out how to fix it or get aid in time. … Look. This may be my only option, but you don’t have to--”

“Can it, Princey,” Virgil cut in, dragging a hand through Roman’s hair roughly and ignoring his resulting squawk. “Where you go, I go.”

“Even there?” Roman asked, tilting his head toward Logan’s palm somberly.

Virgil looked over to Logan, watching the attentive way he was listening to Patton speak and contributing words of his own. The giant could have done away with any of them at any point, and he hadn’t. That wasn’t enough to really trust him, it could still all be part of some scheme, but... it had to count for something.

If it was the only thing that could help Roman, Virgil could push aside his fear and his anger.

“Even there,” he answered, and led the way onwards.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Black

Prompts: After POF, Roman takes over the abandoned color black. He becomes the hated side that Virgil used to be. By most, anyway. Janus and Virgil are concered. Patton chooses to ignore it. Romans room is really cold? and boy is he touch starved - anon

(Sanders sides Prompt) Any one of the sides is touch starved. fluff. (You dont have to do this just thought I might ask) - anon

Hello there!! I just wanna say that I love your work and I think you’re such a talented writer. Idk if this is a weird ask but would you consider writing Roman angst with the song “it’s OK I wouldn’t remember me either” by crywank as like inspiration? Thank you so much <3 -anon

buckel up babes this one's a doozy

Read on Ao3

Warnings: implied/reference self-harm by way of self-negligence, pretty intense self-hatred and neglect that could verge on suicidal, but NO ONE DIES, everyone's fine at the end, we don't break shit and not fix it in my house

Pairings: it is platonic found family hours

Word Count: 5697

Do you know what no one ever tells you about the color black?

It’s seamless.

There are no cracks, no tears, no imperfections, because everything’s so dark you can’t tell what’s a trick of the light and what isn’t. Everything blends together. At first, second, even third glance, it’s perfect. Pristine, even. It hides absolutely everything. It’s intimidating, honestly, that level of deception. The way it can make anything look like it’s meant to be there, as if to live the colorless and lightless life is all it was ever destined for.

Darkness has always found a way of feeling like home, even to the ones who are afraid of it.

You either die the hero or live long enough to see yourself become the villain.

Roman hadn’t wanted to go to the wedding. He didn’t want to go, but it’s what Patton wanted. It’s what Thomas would’ve wanted. If Roman hadn’t been so loud. But it hurt, it did, when they said that they shouldn’t go to the callback because there was such a slim likelihood of Thomas winning. Because Roman couldn’t win. But Roman wasn’t supposed to be the villain and do something bad so he sent Thomas to the wedding.

Bruises were supposed to be yellow, or green, or purple, not black.

But if he had yellow, green, or purple bruises, he would’ve blamed a yellow, green, or purple Side. And that was bad.

So he hid them, because as he learned, no one was looking for them anyway. Patton cared when he didn’t show up to the video and then he was there and oh, having someone there, even if they only cared a little, was like rainfall in a desert, it was wonderful, Roman would’ve sung if he thought it wouldn’t make everything worse. But Roman was good, so he never complained, and he did his job to the best of his ability.

But what if his job was bad?

But there are two Creativities, a Roman and a Remus. And no one else liked Remus, because Remus was bad and Roman was good. But Remus isn’t bad, he’s just the opposite of Roman. And Roman didn’t want to be Remus because Remus was bad. But Remus isn’t bad.

Creativity isn’t bad.

Bruises aren’t supposed to be black but they can’t be red.

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain but what else do you call someone who laughs at vulnerability, who scorns people’s earnest attempts to help, who single-handedly ruins someone’s life?

Roman isn’t supposed to be the villain, but bruises aren’t supposed to cover every inch of his skin unless he deserves it.

His skin burns. It crawls and aches and screams and darkens into bruises. His throat aches from the wordless screams and the horrible things he’s said to everyone. He’s been so selfish, he’s tried to make everything go his way, tried to make it about him, not about Thomas, because everything they do is supposed to help Thomas, help Thomas, that’s what they’re supposed to do, they’re supposed to help Thomas, not themselves, why is he doing this, why is he doing this?

Because he’s the villain.

Roman cries.

What else is he supposed to do?

He cries until the tears grow thick, sluggish, oozing out of his eyes until he can’t see anything but them, until his breath grows thick and his chest heavy. He cries until he has to struggle to open his eyes because of how swollen they are, how globulous the tears have become on the ends of his lashes. He cries until his head splits and his chest wails from the pain he isn’t supposed to have but deserves, deserves every little bit. He cries until his body is consumed by the bruises.

His costume is a straightjacket. He needs it off. The white hurts now, it burns his arms and cuffs his wrists. He doesn’t deserve it so he rips it off. Every seam that he ruins is another bruise. The rips are so loud they burrow into some soft part of his brain and live there. The white is still imperfect because it’s on him.

Only when his costume lies in tatters around him, his sash torn off and thrown away, far away, does the white look pure.

He cries himself to sleep with a smile on his face.

Far, far away, a black hoodie is tugged back into the Conscious Mindscape.

When Roman wakes, his head is full of static.

His lungs inflate and collapse on autopilot, driven by the merciless pump of some distant machine, turning the crank to draw air in and out, in and out.

His hands are numb, fingertips rubbed raw and inflamed from tearing relentlessly at fabric. He turns them slowly and it’s like watching himself in a video game.

His face is cold. He paws at his cheeks and feels sticky residue, etched into his skin. His eyes stick slightly when he blinks and he doesn’t know if that’s just his face or if there’s something else.

He is swathed in black fabric, an old threadbare hoodie that has gone years unloved, untouched, unseen. It’s selfishness that makes him tug it closer, feel a faint bubble of pressure on his screaming body.

He should get up, he should go make sure he hasn’t hurt anyone else with his tantrum again, he should apologize.

But…what would be the point?

Like Patton asked, does there come a point when someone keeps apologizing so much that you just have to admit they’re bad?

Roman isn’t good. Has he ever been?

Something interrupts the pleasant numbness and it shoots from his chest to the soft points at the base of his wrists, making his hands tingle. He decides he doesn’t like it. He doesn’t want it. He wants everything to stop.

He’s selfish, they all know that, he’s just going to end up hurting them anyway, so why bother trying to fix it?

Apathy, his tired brain supplies when he lies there, unmoving, on the ground, for hours and hours and hours, unwilling and uncaring to fix things.

But that can’t be right. Roman is here because he cared too much, he did too much, he was too much. How can he now be the epitome of not caring at all?

If only he never cared, if only he wasn’t so attached, if only.

If only he had been Apathy, maybe he wouldn’t have been so hurt.

His pride got him here. His pride, his wants, his his his. He wanted everything and burned down the things that would’ve helped him get there because he couldn’t do it right. He is the villain and villains always have too much pride.

Pride. Apathy.

Prapathy.

Apride.

I’m not Creativity anymore, he thinks to himself as he lies there, still on the floor as his chest aches and his eyes sting and the sticky residue drips down his cheeks onto the bruises. He stares and stares and stares at the wall and a faint part of his mind that exists outside of the static realizes he never did get around to fixing that crack in the baseboard.

Pride, apathy. It doesn’t matter. There’s a much easier word that he can use to describe both of them.

Wrong.

—————————————————————

“I don’t know, Thomas,” Logan sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose, “I don’t think that’s a valid solution either.”

“But it makes sense,” Virgil protests, shoving his hands into his pockets, “all we have to do is not talk to anybody else—“

“But that will hurt their feelings!”

“But we won’t hurt ourselves.”

Janus and Patton look at each other for a moment before Patton sighs and scratches the back of his head.

“I—I don’t know, this…this feels weird.”

“None of us are happy about this, Padre,” Virgil mutters, “but it’s the best solution we’ve got.”

“Real high bar we’re setting there, isn’t it?”

“Listen, Snake Face, if you’ve got a better idea—“

���Virgil, enough.” Logan shakes his head. “We need to keep thinking.”

“We’ve been at this for an hour, Logan,” Thomas says cautiously, “I don’t know what else you think we’re gonna get to.”

“We’ve already passed the optimal point for productivity, yes.”

“Oh, well, we can’t just give up now!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “I’m sure if we just keep at it for a little longer—“

“You said that half an hour ago, Patton.”

“And I’ll say it again!”

“Because that’s going to make everything go much easier.”

Thomas sighs as the Sides fall back into bickering. Normally, this wouldn’t be anything out of the ordinary—pretty much all they do is argue back and forth—but Logan’s right. They’ve made almost no progress. He finds himself staring at the TV.

Why is he staring at the TV?

He frowns, tilting his head. It’s literally just his TV. Why is he so fixated on it right now? It’s not like it’s gone anywhere, it’s sitting right where it always is. He stares at it most of the day, why is it so weird that he’s looking at it now?

Wait—

“Guys,” he interrupts, still staring at the thing he’s not supposed to be able to see like this, “where’s Roman?”

The room pauses. Then Logan sighs.

“Oh, of course, that’s why we’ve been having such a hard time coming up with solutions, we don’t have Roman.”

At Virgil’s side-eye, he glances around to see similar looks of disbelief on the other’s faces.

“What?”

“Did you…did you just admit we need Roman?”

“He is Creativity, it makes sense that if we are struggling to be creative, he isn’t here.”

“Okay, that makes more sense.” Virgil shakes his head. “Thought you were admitting he was important or something.”

“Please, his head is big enough as it is.”

Janus hides a snort.

“Why didn’t he show up earlier,” Thomas asks, “he’s normally one of the first of you to get here.”

Virgil shrugs. “I dunno, I haven’t seen that much of him lately.”

“Is he…okay?”

“Who the hell knows, he’s Roman.”

“My guess is he’s been in his room,” Logan says, glancing at Roman’s usual spot, “I haven’t seen him either.”

Thomas doesn’t miss the way Janus and Patton glance at each other. “If you two have information now might be the time to share it.”

“Roman…hasn’t come out of his room,” Patton says after a beat, “not since…”

“Wait, he hasn’t come out since the wedding?”

Janus shakes his head. “I’ve barely seen him open his door.”

“That doesn’t…normally happen, does it?”

“No,” Patton says, “and, uh, he doesn’t normally ignore us either.”

“Ignore you?”

“We’ve tried knocking. It doesn’t work.”

“Perhaps Thomas can summon him,” Logan offers, “you have more power than any of us do, he’d have to answer you.”

“Well, here goes nothing. Creativity!”

Someone pops up in front of the TV.

Someone in a white costume with green embellishments and a mustache.

“Remus?”

Remus glares at them, his Morningstar at his side, his costume white, pristine, and light.

“What the fuck have you done with my brother?”

—————————————————————

It’s been weeks.

The fans have accepted Remus as Creativity. They think that the videos are better than ever. They think this was Thomas’s plan from the beginning.

There is one end card where the Sides are watching a movie and some of them spot a dark figure in the corner. Who could this be? Is this the mysterious orange Side everyone has been waiting for? Is this the Side that’s been hurting Thomas so much?

Zoom and enhance. It’s Virgil’s old hoodie. They’re sitting where Remus used to sit. They’re not staring at the screen, they’re looking at the others. What could this mean?

Someone spots the faint outline of a tiny crown perched atop the figure’s head.

And then, well, then it all makes sense.

There was always one Side that messed up everything, that made everything more complicated. There was always one Side that, if you thought about it, you could trace everything back to. There was always one Side that was told he was making the bad choice and yet, never seemed to learn.

They start to put together timelines, evidence, essay-length meta posts on how of course, this is the plan, why didn’t they see it before? Those that had disliked him from the start crow about how they were right, how everyone doubted them but look who’s laughing now. They point out how he’s become a Dark Side, maybe he was always a Dark Side, and how incredible would that storytelling be? To warn against the pressures of society’s expectations, the idea of good versus bad, or authentic versus forced. How of course, they’re wearing Virgil’s old hoodie because they’re the hated Side now. How they’re not looking at the screen because that’s not what they want, they want to be a part of the famILY.

Vitriolic rants. Accusations. Vent fics. The unsympathetic tag is overflowing.

Because who else could the villain be?

—————————————————————

Roman lives in the cold now.

His fireplace isn’t lit anymore. The door to the Imagination doesn’t work anymore. The blankets on his bed aren’t thick enough anymore. He drifts through a haze where only the emergency systems in his brain are online, where only the awareness needed to sleep, breathe, and move the little bits he needs to move are present.

He doesn’t know that there’s nothing behind the red door anymore, that when Janus and Virgil come to knock on it, worried, or when Remus storms through the Imagination and tries to knock it down by force, there’s nothing for them to find.

He doesn’t know that a new door, a black door, leads from his room to the hallway, far away from any of the other rooms. He doesn’t know that it’s so dark back here that no one would be able to tell there was a door if they didn’t put their nose right up against it.

He doesn’t know and he doesn’t care.

A new kind of ache settles in his bones now. Pain is an old friend, but he’s yet to give suffering a proper handshake.

He misses when he could go and ask someone for help.

He misses when Patton would turn to him without any judgment in his eyes, without any ‘well, you know, kiddo—‘, without any ‘let’s start off with—‘, just the soft words of I’m here, I’ll help you. He misses being able to walk up to Patton’s door and knock on it and know that he would be safe on the other side.

Patton would open the door and soften, his mouth curling up into a small smile as he says hey, kiddo, come in. He would sit Roman down on the bed and press a glass of water into his hands. He would rub his back as he drank, taking the empty glass gently and cupping Roman’s face in his hands. He would ask what’s wrong, sweetheart, what can I do? And Roman would say he just wants a hug, he just wants to not be alone for a bit. And Patton would smile and coo about how Roman was always welcome here, sweetheart, I’m right here, I’ll take care of you. And Roman could fall asleep with his head on Patton’s chest and believe that everything was okay.

He misses when he could walk up to Logan and ask for help and he wouldn’t be scoffed at or turned away, he wouldn’t be looked at suspiciously and asked what he really wanted. He misses when Logan could come to him too and just spend time together.

Logan would knock on his door and ask if you have a moment, would you like to walk with me? And Roman would smile and say, of course, he always has time for Logan, and they could go somewhere in the Imagination and just talk. And Logan would say that’s an interesting idea, I wonder if—and they would walk and talk for hours. And Roman could bustle up to Logan’s door and say I’ve just thought of something, and Logan would open his door and be happy to talk with Roman and it would be okay.

Roman curls up tighter and feels nothing.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Virgil. He wishes they could have bonded over their love of Disney, their want to talk about the things they’re interested in, or even the need to just have someone else in the room with them for a bit. He wishes their relationship wasn’t just spitting barbs at each other, each hoping to hit the bullseye first and knock the other one out of the race. He wishes he could’ve done better.

He wishes he could have something to miss for Janus. He wishes they could’ve done this right, that they could’ve bonded over the want to keep Thomas safe but also have him be himself. He wishes that he hadn’t laughed, hadn’t scorned, hadn’t fallen back on his pride to keep himself safe at the expense of Thomas. He wishes that maybe, just maybe, if he had been a better puppet, then he wouldn’t have been dropped so suddenly.

But as it stands now, more than anything he wishes he could hear them when they say the things they say about him because then he could figure out which bruises were theirs and take comfort in knowing that they still touch him in some way.

The bruises are a constant now. From the online hate to the casual remarks from the others to the way that Patton hasn’t even tried to come find him anymore—he can hear that, you know—he can’t turn over without landing on a new smattering of bruises. The hoodie helps to cushion the blow a little bit.

He misses Remus.

Remus was…

…Remus was everything.

Roman misses his other half. Roman misses his brother. Roman misses his Creativity.

When they were small they would curl around each other as if they could fuse if they focused hard enough. They would wrap their arms around each other so tightly that it would be a pleasant ache when they woke, never minding because they were tighter. Remus was always so warm and Roman hoarded every single bit he could get.

Roman was cruel to push his brother away and now he understands how it feels.

He misses Thomas.

He misses when he was allowed to go and see Thomas. When he could talk to Thomas. When his presence was celebrated or at the very least, tolerated. He misses it. He misses helping.

But he’s helping now, by staying away.

He’s cold.

He’s so cold.

—————————————————————

do you remember what it felt like

to be touched?

press of fingertips against shoulders

bump of a forehead against yours

palms meeting and parting a mere second later

in days gone by

do you remember

warm?

humans thrive off physical contact,

we’re not built to hold each other

at arms’ length.

infants will die

if they aren’t held enough.

and I am so

so

cold

—————————————————————

Something is wrong and even Patton can’t ignore it anymore.

The Sides shuffle uneasily in front of the red door until Remus raises his hand to knock against it.

“Roman?”

Silence.

“Roman, please, please, just—just say something.”

Silence.

“Where the fuck are you, Roman?”

“Don’t yell,” Logan mumbles, “you’ll make him think we’re angry at him.”

Remus takes a deep breath.

“We’re not angry, Ro-bro, we’re just—just please make some noise.”

Silence.

“…we’re coming in, Roman.”

But they can’t. Because as Remus turns the knob on the door, it falls forward. The entire door comes off just to reveal—

A blank wall. With no sign that there was ever a room behind it.

Thomas can hear the scream.

—————————————————————

Roman hears the scream and can’t move. But he can close his eyes and reach out and see what’s going on. After all, he hasn’t done anything, so something must be wrong if someone else is screaming.

He feels something in his chest twist and snap.

“Re?”

Across the Mindscape, Remus’s head jerks up.

“Ro,” he breathes, getting to his feet and rushing off down the hall as the others hurry after him, “Ro!”

“Remus, what’s going on?”

“Why isn’t Roman’s room there anymore?”

“Where are you going?”

They barrel into the hallway and smack into a black door. Logan’s eyes widen as he realizes what’s happened.

“Roman’s become a Dark Side,” he says, fingers scrabbling where the door meets the wall, “he’s—he’s really hurt, we have to help—“

“Move, L, I’m gonna break the door down.”

“You’re not gonna do it without me.”

“Roman!”

Roman turns his head to look at the door. Are they…here? The hoodie rasps against his undead skin and he winces. There are still bruises.

“Roman!”

The door shudders its frame. He could open it. He could. He just has to reach out and—

“Ro!”

Remus.

The door unlatches and his brother pours into the room, letting out a wail when he spots Roman in the bed.

Janus hisses as soon as he crosses the threshold, this room is freezing. It feels as if no one’s moved for years inside, as if the heat has been sucked out entirely. His gaze flies to Remus, who’s over on the bed, his hands scrabbling at something in black material.

Roman.

“Oh, little prince,” he whispers, horrified, “no, no, no—“

“We have to get him out,” Logan orders, startling Remus into action as he scoops Roman into his arms, “we have to get him warm. His core temperature is too low.”

“Shower? Bath?”

“No, if we shock his system we could make it worse. Janus, I need your heating pads, Patton, something warm to drink.”

Janus and Patton vanish.

“Virgil, weighted blankets, Remus—“

“I’m here.” As Virgil ducks away as well, Remus helps Logan cradle the limp and freezing form of his brother in their arms as they begin to rush out of that horrible, horrible room. “You thinking bathroom?”

“Get him to Janus’s, that’ll be the safest place.”

“Got it.”

Sure enough, Janus has no objection and sweeps them inside, setting down the heating pads as Patton bustles in with two thermos flasks and a mug. Virgil pops back with thick blankets as they lay the cold form on the ground. Roman’s eyes blink sluggishly as he stares up at Remus.

“...Re?”

“Yeah, Roro, it’s me, I’m right here, I’m so sorry I wasn’t here faster.”

“What’s…wha’s going on?”

“You’re too cold, Roman,” Logan says gently, “we need to get you warmed up.”

“Oh…”

“It will be easier if we take a few of the layers off,” he explains, still careful to keep his voice low and even as the others scurry around, “is that alright?”

“Okay.”

“I’m going to unzip the hoodie.” Logan works slowly, patiently, stopping when any flicker crosses Roman’s face. “That’s it, you’re doing very well, I’m almost done.”

By the time he’s coaxed the hoodie off of Roman’s shoulders, there’s a little bit of color back in his cheeks.

“Very good, Roman, you did well. Virgil’s brought a few warm blankets and Janus has heating pads for you, do you think you can sit up?”

“Don’t know.”

“That’s alright, you’re doing alright.” Logan glances up at Janus.

“Little prince,” Janus murmurs, sitting by Roman’s head, “if you can sit up, I can sit behind you and help warm you up, does that sound alright?”

“Okay.”

“Thank you, sweetie, we’re going to sit you up now.”

Logan and Janus sit Roman up slowly, only to pause when the long sleeves of his shirt fall down.

“Roman,” Logan asks, trying frantically to keep his voice calm, “are you hurt?”

“Mhm.”

He bites back the fearful response and patiently asks where, how bad, can he see?

“Everywhere.” Roman lifts his arms weakly. “’S all bruises.”

“…can we see?”

“Okay.”

Logan’s hands begin to tremble as he works the shirt over Roman’s head. He wasn’t kidding when he said everywhere.

There’s barely an inch of skin that doesn’t look bruised black and blue. Patton stifles a cry as he drops to his knees next to them, looking at Roman like he’s never seen it this bad before.

Oh, Roman, how did they not know? How could he just ignore him like that?

“Get him covered,” comes Virgil’s voice, “he’s still too cold.”

Janus grabs one of the blankets and wraps it carefully around Roman’s form. It should help distribute whatever pressure they apply so it won’t aggravate his injuries too severely. He takes one heating pad and scoots forward, bracketing Roman’s legs with his own and wrapping one pair of arms around him to press the pad to his chest.

“Can you feel that, sweetie,” he asks softly, “is that too warm?”

“No.”

“Good, good, little prince, you’re being very brave.” He turns away to reach for another and so misses the little shudder that goes through Roman. “Do you think you can handle another if I press it to the back of your neck?”

“Mm.”

“Let’s try, little prince, and if it’s too much, I’ll stop.”

“Okay.”

“Here we go, sweetie—“ Janus presses it carefully to the base of Roman’s skull, just at the edge of the blanket— “there, does that feel okay?”

“Mm.”

“Good, sweetie, you’re doing so well, so good for us, that’s it, you relax now.”

Roman starts to tremble.

“That’s alright,” Logan soothes, “you’re warming up, it means you’re going to shiver a little more, you’re alright, Roman, you’re safe. You’re doing well.”

It certainly doesn’t seem that way once Roman’s breath starts to come in gasps. Virgil nudges Patton out of the way and sits, gently calling Roman’s name until his gaze snaps to Virgil’s.

“Hey, Princey,” Virgil says slowly, “you gotta stay with me now, okay? We’re right here, no one’s angry, nothing’s going to hurt you. Just focus on me.”

He ignores the startled noises when Roman starts to cry thick, black tears.

“Eyes on me, Princey, that’s it, stay here. We’re just gonna sit here and breathe for a moment, okay?” Roman nods and Virgil starts to take big, exaggerated breaths. “Good. That’s it, Princey, you focus on me and you breathe. It’s okay. You’re doing great. Just stay here.”

When the viscous black liquid slows, Virgil reaches out and begins to tuck Roman’s hair back. A moment longer and he pauses, noting how the scratch on Roman’s face is covered in the thick black tears.

“Princey, can I clean your face off for you? You’re doing really well at breathing, I’m proud of you. Can I help you with the rest of it?”

“O-okay.”

There’s a bottle of micellar water and a pack of cotton circles pressed into his hands. He moves in slow, careful strokes, changing out the circles as often as he needs to. A pile of them grows beside him as he works, doing his best to get all the black off of Roman’s face. Roman just cries.

“It’s alright, sweetheart,” Patton murmurs when Roman’s cry gives way to a wail, “it’s okay, you cry all you need to, we’re not going anywhere, it’ll be alright.”

“We have you, sweetie,” Janus says against Roman’s neck, “we’re here.”

Remus lets out a broken noise.

“Oh, Roman, you didn’t…”

Logan’s head whips sharply around to scold Remus only for his mouth to fall open in shock.

Remus’s costume is bleeding too. The same black that drips down Roman’s face is slowly coloring Remus’s costume again, back to what it normally looks like. Remus’s mouth is agape, staring horrified at Roman.

“Oh, Ro—“

“What’s going on?”

“Check the bruises on his neck,” Remus orders as Janus pulls back the blanket, “are they still there?”

“They’re here, but they’re…lighter, how is that—?”

“Roman is the Ego,” Patton mumbles, “he gets bruised when—when—“

“Oh, shit,” Virgil curses, before quickly hushing Roman’s discontented mumble, “and with all the hate that’s been gunning for him—“

“Oh, sweetheart—“

Roman lets out another sob and the tears run clear.

“The Ego is kept healthy by positive attention,” Logan says softly, scooting closer and rubbing Roman’s shoulder through the blanket, “you’ve been starving, haven’t you?”

“He’s not cold because he’s hypothermic,” Remus blusters, “he’s touch starved.”

“It’s still not safe to introduce him to direct contact all at once,” Logan warns when Patton and Remus look like they want to rip the blanket off, “we have to take it slow.”

“So what do we do?”

Janus just leans down and presses a kiss to Roman’s temple. “You’re so brave, sweetie, you’ve been so strong.”

They watch as Roman’s tears begin to wash away the black.

“We love you, sweetheart, you’re so important to us.”

“Stay with us, Princey, we need you.”

“You’re doing very well, Roman, we’re very proud of you.”

Roman cries, ducking his head into Virgil’s waiting hands as Remus’s costume colors itself black again.

After a long while, when Remus looks like he normally does, Roman shakes his head and looks up at them.

“Where am I,” and he sounds like Roman again, “what’s happened?”

“You were starving, sweetheart,” Patton mumbles, “and we didn’t notice until it was too late.”

“O-oh,” Roman blinks, “is that…is that why I’m so cold?”

“You’re touch starved too,” Virgil adds, “and we, uh, L said it wasn’t a good idea to try and shock you out of it.”

“Try and drink something,” Logan says quickly as Patton reaches for the mug, “you’ve been crying for a while and you’re dehydrated.”

“Is that…hot chocolate?”

“Your favorite, kiddo.”

Remus sits down at Roman’s side as he drinks, staring at him like he’s not seen him in ages. Which, well, none of them have, really.

“I’m sorry.”

“What?”

“I’m sorry,” Roman repeats, looking sheepishly at all of them, “I, uh, well, the last video I messed up a lot. I, uh, I shouldn’t have laughed at your name, Jan—where are you?”

“Right here,” Janus mumbles, giving him a gentle squeeze, “and you’re forgiven.”

“Oh. Uh, that was easy…are you sure?”

“I’m sure. Yes, it wasn’t great of you to do, but I’m not exactly blameless either and…”

He squeezes him again.

“…you’ve been hurting enough.”

“Logan, you too, I—I’m sorry.”

“Thank you, Roman, but I agree. It’s alright.”

“Why are you all forgiving me so fast?”

“Because,” Remus mumbles, cupping Roman’s head and resting their foreheads together, “this happened.”

They all watch as Roman shudders as Remus shows him what happened.

“Oh—oh—I—oh no—“

“It’s over now, sweetie,” Janus reassures, “we’ve got you. You’re okay, you’re safe.”

“C-can I have a hug?”

“Of course, honey, come here—“

“Let’s get the blanket out of the way, L, is he—“

“It should be safe now, yes.”

“Remus, I—oof!”

“I gotcha, Ro-Bro.”

“It’s still—I’m still—“

“Patton, grab that end of the blanket.”

“This one?”

“That’s it, yes.”

The Sides end up swaddled in the blanket, their heads poking out, as each of them pulls a little bit of Roman into their arms to warm up. Janus and Remus wrap around his upper body, mindful of the few bruises that haven’t been healed yet. His legs are in Patton’s lap, as Logan and Virgil each hold on to his hands. The poor thing is still shivering, still shaking, still a little overwhelmed.

But Janus coos into his ear as his head lolls back, Remus holding him tightly. Logan’s thumb strokes over his palm as Virgil lets him squeeze as tight as he needs to. Patton makes sure he’s off the cold tile and he’s warm.

They’re going to have to work out what to do about the fans, about the videos, but right now they need to worry about Roman.

Speaking of Roman—

“I—I need to apologize to Thomas.”

A cry goes up as he says so, Patton reaching up to pat his knee. “You don’t have to do that right now, sweetheart, rest, it’s okay—“

“I won’t—he won’t be able to rest until he knows what’s happened.”

As if he can hear them, they feel the familiar tug of one of them being summoned. A quick glance around shows that if one of them is going, all of them are, so they appear on the floor of the living room, swaddled in the blanket.

Thomas’s mouth drops open and he rushes to their side.

“I was gonna ask if you found Roman, but I—Roman, buddy, are you okay?”

“I…I don’t know,” Roman mumbles, “but I’m sorry.”

“For what, buddy?”

As Roman begins to apologize, for being away, for hurting Thomas, for being selfish, Thomas just shakes his head.

“No, buddy, that’s not all on you. You—yeah, okay, some things happened, but it’s not entirely your fault. You don’t need to think of it like that.”

“Well said,” Logan mutters, “now help us get Roman to rest.”

“So what Disney movie are we watching and how many pillows do we need?”

A lot, as it turns out, is the answer. And they have to bite back laughs at the way Thomas makes a noise when he’s swept into the blanket too. But Thomas is warm and Roman is still cold and the movie plays on the screen.

“Hey, Roman?”

“Yeah?”

“You’re my hero.”

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[lovelylogans]

like a second heart

ao3 | read my other fics | coffee?

warnings: mentions of death (not of any sides), an employee crushing on his boss, please let me know if i’ve missed any!

pairings: logan/virgil

word count: 3,748

notes: this is for @analogicalweek and today’s prompt was crushes/confession. this is connected to one of my previous analogical week fics (as all of my analogical week fics this year will be) called “like a second heart,” which, if i am fully honest, is the verse i’ve had the most ideas about adding onto, so i hope you enjoy it! here are some notes on worldbuilding. more coming eventually???

⁂

Virgil is sure he looks quite the idiot, gaping skyward with his cap in his hands and one hand shielding his eyes from the sun. As a matter of fact, he knows he looks an idiot, and that he is quite possibly the most idiotic-looking idiot to ever set foot at the Manor Grantham, but no one is here in the courtyard to see it and so Virgil is free to gawk as he likes.

It's just—it's so huge.

The Domicile Dockery had been nothing to sneeze at, and the Saint Jerome's Orphanage for Boys had been... well, to perfectly honest, so terribly dreary that its only real worth was being sneezed at, but the Manor Grantham (was there a more proper name for this absolute behemoth that Virgil should know, he wonders anxiously) is truly in another world entirely. 

Manor was hardly the appropriate word—surely this must be a castle, enough to hold half a village, faced in fine, tan stone—Virgil hasn't any idea what kind but it must surely be so expensive it would make him weep—with a great many windows dotting them, grand embellishments at each eave, with so many spires at the roof that Virgil would surely lose count even if he wasn't blinded by the noon sun.

Even from the servant's entrance, it's a sight to behold.

Virgil can hear the door creak—even the servant's courtyard door is ornate—and Virgil hastily jams his cap back on his head, trying his level best to keep from mussing his hair too much.

A tall man in a livery—a footman, then, someone that tall had to be—arches an eyebrow at him.

"Anthony?"

"Yes, that's me," Virgil says. "Virgil Anthony," he adds, in case they're expecting an Anthony Smith or Anthony Carson or—

Well, another Anthony, anyway.

"Albert Fellows," he says, in a near-musical Scottish accent. "Mr. Braithwaite and Mrs. Cassidy are ready for you. I'll take you to them."

Virgil sweeps off his cap when they walk in the door and come face-to-face with two other people, as Sister Leonella had always said that was proper manners and, if these people are anything like the Dockerys, then they certainly care very much about proper manners, but there's no place to hang it. He just holds it in a hand, gripping it tightly, wiping his left hand as subtly as he can on his pants to rid it of sweat.

The two other people step slightly closer; a man, shorter than Fellows, portly and officious-looking, with every scant gray hair upon his head and every gray hair in his truly impressive mustache waxed painstakingly into place, frowning at Virgil as if he's an out-of-place blade of grass,  and a woman, shorter still, plump and pleasantly smiling, with gray shooting through her black, pin-straight hair.

"Virgil Anthony?" The man who must be Mr. Braithwaite says.

"Yes, sir, that's me," Virgil says, and clears his throat—he'd said it rather quietly.

"How delightful to meet you, Mr. Anthony," and Virgil nearly starts—Mrs. Cassidy has the same accent as he does.

An Essex woman, then. Some little piece of home here helps settle his racing heart a little.

A very scant little.

"Through here, I should think," Mr. Braithwaite says, opening a door for Mrs. Cassidy.

It's an office that manages to fit three comfortably—Virgil thinks of Mr. Fincher's office, back in the Domicile Dockery, barely enough to fit two people, and he'd been headbutler there the same as Mr. Braithwaite is here. It seems everything in his house is huge, to match its outside.

Virgil sits after Mr. Braithwaite and Mrs. Cassidy do—it seems the safest and most manners-like option.

"Now, Mr. Anthony," Mr. Braithwaite says, flicking open an envelope. "Trained originally as a tailor and then as a valet, sponsored by the Lady Dockery. Why did Lady Doris sponsor you, Mr. Anthony?"

Because Lady Doris Dockery is a raging bitch who wanted to lord over one of the little orphans who she thinks would have been wicked urchins if she did not keep her sainted eye on them for even a bare moment, and that those same orphans should grovel at her feet for her donations, for as long as she might live, Virgil thinks, but holds his tongue.

"The Lady Dockery is a very charitable woman," Virgil says instead.

Mrs. Cassidy sniffs—disdainfully, Virgil thinks, but Virgil might be reading too much into it?

"Lady Dockery is an acquaintance of her ladyship, Mr. Braithwaite, you remember—she came to the house two weeks ago for the Ladies' poor relief luncheon, that's when she delivered the recommendation to his lordship in the first place," Mrs. Cassidy says, and ah, that explains it. No one had to spend more than ten minutes with Doris Dockery to know she was a self-important woman who loved nothing more than to look down her nose at everyone else.

Mr. Braithwaite seems to ignore this, however, and continues stodgily with his list of questions.

"You come very highly recommended by the Baronet and Lady Dockery, very highly recommended indeed—I do wonder why you aren't still working there."

Virgil, unable to help himself, darts a disbelieving glance to Mrs. Cassidy, as if to say why on earth does he think?

Mrs. Cassidy quirks a brow, as if to maybe say, yes, I know, he's quite a pompous handful, serves him right for never listening to me.

"...the Baronet Dockery died last month, sir," Virgil says in a carefully even voice.

Yes, and Mrs. Cassidy's lips definitely twitch with near-laughter, and she digs around in her apron pocket for a handkerchief to cover her mouth.

"And so the Dockerys had no more need for a valet, may the Baronet rest in peace," he adds.

Baronet Dockery had been all right, really, much better than his nasty little wife—Virgil had been somewhat sad he'd died, even though he'd been very old and sickly, and it rightfully shouldn't have been a shock.

"No more need?" Mr. Braithwaite says. "The Dockerys have no children?"

"Three daughters and a son, the daughters all grown with households of their own—one in Wiltshire, one in Painswick, and one in Devon—and their son serving abroad in the King's army," Virgil rattles off dutifully. "The Lady—well, Dowager Dockery now—therefore has no more need for a valet."

"Hmph," Mr. Braithwaite says, and pages through Virgil's admittedly meager references. All glowing, though only one from an employer proper. Virgil was many things, but he was a damn good valet and a trained tailor to boot.

"Your references say you're a fine embroiderer," Mrs. Cassidy prompts Virgil.

"Oh—yes, ma'am," Virgil says. He pulls out a clean handkerchief and offers it to her for inspection—when the Baronet had been on bedrest and Virgil left to his devices, unable to help the Baronet at all, he'd put lavenders all along the edge, along with his initials in one corner.

"Very fine!" She exclaims, bringing it close to her eyes, running her fingers over the flowers. "Very fine indeed, isn't it, Mr. Braithwaite?"

"Hmph," Mr. Braithwaite repeats, paging through Virgil's references.

"Lord Roman should like that," Mrs. Cassidy tells him. "He's trying to improve his embroidery, especially his florals, if you could find time in the day to tutor him."

Lord Roman—one of the sons, Virgil would guess. Lady Dockery had said there were three, he thinks? Maybe two? No daughters, he knows that much, Lady Doris had clucked disapprovingly about the lack of daughter to marry to her own son.

"With his lordship's permission, of course I could," Virgil said.

Mr. Braithwaite looks pleased by Virgil's insistence upon proper procedure. At least, Virgil assumes he looks pleased; he isn't as nearly as easy to read as Mrs. Cassidy.

"I can knit and crochet, in addition to the sewing and embroidery," Virgil adds.

"Socks?"

"If you should like to see my work again, I'd have to take off my boots," he tells her, and she titters.

"No, no, that shouldn't be necessary," Mr. Braithwaite says, looking alarmed at the concept of a stinky socked foot in his sacrosanct office.

"We tend to be in constant dire need of socks, here," Mrs. Cassidy tells him, patting his hand. "Your skills shall surely be a great help."

Shall surely, Virgil's brain seizes. Shall surely, did that mean—?

"Well, Mr. Anthony," Mr. Braithwaite says, at last setting aside the sheaf of his references.

Virgil's heart sets a wild pace, for an entirely new reason.

"Your references are impeccable, your manners are," he casts an eye over Virgil, "fine enough, and to be perfectly frank, Lord Julian has insisted on utmost haste and so we are in dire need of a valet for Lord Logan, who is newly graduated from university."

For Lord Logan? But he'd thought—oh, but what did it matter who he'd valet for, it was a job, a job, a job away from Essex and a job away from the orphanage and a job away from Doris Dockery—

"Lord Logan is the heir presumptive and as such needs to be accustomed to the finer details of the lordship," Mrs. Cassidy explains, "including a valet. Lord Julian is of the opinion that Lord Logan should not be thrust into the entirety of the lordship upon his death, Lord willing that be many years from now."

What is Virgil meant to say to that?

"Very wise of his lordship," he manages.

A valet for the heir. They were surely richer than God, Virgil thought; he'd only ever heard of valets and ladies' maids for the heirs among princes and princesses, and perhaps the dukes and duchesses who were the relatives of those princes and princesses.

"We'll introduce you to the family after tea, then," Mr. Braithwaite says, and before Virgil can say anything, he continues briskly, "you can use a spare livery, you're of a size with Copley. You'll officially start in the morning. Now, if you'll away to tea with Mrs. Cassidy and Mrs. Cochrane—the chef—they'll inform you of salary and living conditions and the like. Good day."

And Mrs. Cassidy leads Virgil to the kitchen, because Virgil is in too much of a daze to realize it's just across the hall.

⁂

The daze is only barely helped by watching Mrs. Cassidy and Mrs. Cochrane—a brusque woman who spoke exactly what was on her mind, rather refreshing after the interview with Mr. Braithwaite—cluck over each other, and over him, and with a strong tea and Mrs. Cochrane's truly exceptional biscuits and cream.

They are interrupted by beautiful brown tabby cat with a shiny coat licks at its mouth, savoring the bit of cream he'd managed to snatch. He has a pretty blue ribbon tied loosely around his neck.

"Oh, Thales, get down—"

"That's not Thales, miss." A maid says, glancing over from where she's vigorously mixing together some kind of batter.

"Well which one is it, then?"

"Aristarchus, I should think," the maid says. "He explores more than the others. Thales stays in the library mostly."

What kind of names were Thales and Aristarchus for cats? Virgil had always named the skinny mean cats that lingered around the orphanage for scraps things like Spots and Stripes. And then when a nun got fond of one, she'd usually name them for saints, much like Virgil himself, now he comes to think of it.

"How many cats are there?" Virgil says, giving Aristarchus a good scratch under the chin anyways. The cat purrs and deigns to lean into the scratch, so Virgil's fingers are rubbing against his cheek.

"Oh, how should I know," grumbles Mrs. Cochrane.

"A great many," Mrs. Cassidy says. "And good little mousers they are, too, what with the hunting dogs sleeping in the stables most nights. But cats of Lord Logan's—" 

She pauses to count on her fingers, murmuring names to herself—"Let's see... Thales, Aristarchus, Mirabai, Parmenides... yes, four so far, and the rumor is he's getting another as a gift as soon as an esteemed guest comes to visit, so that number ought to change. He's fond of cats, Lord Logan is."

Fond of cats. Well, Virgil could always bring that up if conversation was needed, it was something they had in common.

"Now shoo, go on," Mrs. Cochrane says, and so Aristarchus jumps into Virgil's lap—Virgil smiles as Aristarchus rubs his face against Virgil's stomach, then winces a bit as the claws dig in—and uses Virgil as a springboard to trot off into the hall.

"Right then, Anthony," Mrs. Cochrane says briskly. "Back to business."

Virgil takes a fortifying gulp of tea.

And then his daze is then renewed in even greater fervor when Mrs. Cassidy casually mentions his salary will be at least double if not triple (Virgil's hopeless with numbers and Mrs. Cassidy had said something about holiday bonsues, an entirely foreign concept) what it was at the Dockerys.

⁂

His feet pinch, the livery's shirt and coat are both too short on him because he's broader in the shoulder and the foot than this Copley, and he's already got the names of the Earl's impressively large household staff hopelessly mixed around; at the Dockerys, it had only ever been him, Mr. Fincher, the ladies' maid Mrs. Howes, and the chef Dowlings.

Here—three footmen, Lord Julian's valet Mr. Walsh, Lady Priscilla's ladies' maid Mrs. O'Coyle, the head housemaid Miss Hannah Brennan and Mrs. Cassidy, who was the head housekeeper—why did they need both, Virgil wondered cluelessly, but then, it was an impressively large house and probably needed a great many people to keep it clean—the seemingly innumerable maids and the kitchen's staff, all of whom had been tittering and giggling as Mrs. Cochrane lectured them about how dinner was to be prepared that night, and of course even more  not in the room like the chauffer, the gardener, the hostler, the kennel master, because apparently Lord Julian and the younger sons were very fond of their hunting dogs—and Virgil's head was swimming with all of it already.

As it stands, when Mr. Braithwaite is leading him through the servant's hallways, he keeps his eyes on his feet and tries his very best to remember directions as this house is so hopelessly large and Virgil is so hopelessly overwhelmed. One right, a left, two more rights, straight on, another left...

Tries, but fails, because Mr. Braithwaite is keeping on an endless stream of information of the family, which Virgil really should know, but he isn't sure if it should come at the sacrifice of knowing the layout of the house.

"...Lord Julian and Lady Priscilla have been married twenty-five years this spring, and Lord Logan is twenty-one in the fall—"

"He's twenty?" Virgil says, interest piqued. "I thought you said he just graduated university?"

"He has," Mr. Braithwaite, and was that near-paternal pride in his voice. "Lord Logan has always been very studious, and he advanced very easily ahead of his peers. He inherited his intelligence from his father."

Then he and Lord Logan were about the same age, give or take a few months. He hadn't very well been able to celebrate his last birthday, and hadn't really been in the mood to, what with his employer on death's door. How odd it would be to serve a peer rather than someone decades his senior.

"—Lords Roman and Remus, they're the twins—thank heavens Lord Remus has gotten it into his head to grow a mustache, it was quite impossible to differentiate between them when they were children—are turning eighteen this summer, Lord Roman some minutes older than Lord Remus, I can't remember the exact number but I'm sure you shall hear of it soon enough."

Lords Logan his employer, then Roman who liked embroidery, then Remus with the mustache, yes, Virgil would be able to remember that.

"A great many celebrations this year, all we should be thankful for," Mr. Braithwaite says briskly. “Much to be thankful for indeed."

Virgil isn't sure if he necessarily should act thankful for a family he hasn't met and has just hired him today, so instead he asks a question that people like Fincher had always seemed to like.

"How long have you served here, Mr. Braithwaite?"

Yes, that's the right question. Mr. Braithwaite actually smiles.

"Thirty years in the summer."

"Heavens," Virgil says, startled; that's quite a long time to stay with a family. The longest he'd ever heard was, in fact, from Fincher, and he'd been with the Dockerys ten years.

"Indeed. I came here when I was a lad—not much older than you, I suppose. I was a stableman then. Lord Julian's father Marmaduke—" Virgil stifles a snicker by biting his tongue, "—was quite an accomplished rider, very fond of his horses in the way that Lord Julian is fond of his dogs, and Lord Logan fond of his cats. Then I became a footman, then underbutler, and now head butler for fifteen years. Hard work and loyalty, young man. This family greatly rewards loyalty. You would do well to remember that."

Virgil takes a moment to ruminate on that—literally, just a moment, as Mr. Braithwaite comes to a stop at a well-disguised door.

"Ah, here we are."

And then Virgil remembers he is about to be introduced to the family, and his heart, already going quickly from the brisk pace that Mr. Braithwaite had set, starts pounding in his ears.

Mr. Braithwaite steps through.

Virgil takes a deep breath, wipes his sweaty hands on his borrowed pants, and enters the grand study.

And grand it is. Each towering wall is lined with bookshelves, all stuffed to the brim with books and encyclopedias, with Persian rugs of deep greens line the floor. He can just see two adolescent-looking dogs are tussling with each other over on the grand rug, yipping—a pair of the famed hunting dogs, Virgil's sure of it—with a dog whose black face has gone frosty with gray watching the pair warily.

"Your Mars is much too poorly trained, isn't he, darling Orpheus?" someone with a musical, deep voice says, clicking his fingers for emphasis; the dog that had been pinned obligingly squirms loose and trots out of Virgil's viewpoint. "There, there, it's not your fault my brother and his hound are brutes."

"You must train that dog properly, Remus, otherwise he won't be fit for the hunt when—Ah, Braithwaite," a voice says, different and still deep, still a voice that would belong on the stage in another life.

"The new valet for your inspection, my lord," Braithwaite says, and beckons Virgil through.

And the family—just as grand—are situated around the room.

Standing is a polished man in a fine suit, adjusting his spectacles; from his age, this must be Lord Julian, the current Earl Grantham. On the couch beside him the only woman in a room, in a gown of violet, a brown-haired woman who had been holding up a newspaper for the Earl's inspection, who must be the Lady Priscilla.

Sprawled together on the couches, one petting their dog comfortingly, the other praising theirs, could be no one but the twins; Virgil had never seen two men look so alike, if one looked past the mustache and the smug grin underneath it. And then—

Virgil's mouth goes dry at the sight of the last man in the room.

He's the most handsome man Virgil has ever seen.

His hair is an incredibly soft-looking brown, slicked into place with only a small amount of product, intelligent brown eyes that are only complimented by his spectacles, a perfect cupid's bow of a mouth, slender of frame yet with a softness around his stomach and hips, his legs seem to go on forever and yet he's perhaps only a half-head taller than Virgil, proportioned so well in contrast to Virgil's constant lankiness, and what a delightful height he is, for everything about him seems so delightfully perfect...

Please be a footman so I can attempt a torrid affair with you, please be a footman so I can attempt a torrid affair with you—

Even as he's thinking it, Virgil knows there's no way. The finery of his clothes, his presence amongst the rest of the family, the way he's casually in the middle of a book that must surely be from this library, the way he's looking Virgil up and down with a scholarly sort of interest, as if evaluating him, this must be—

"Lord Logan," Braithwaite says. "This is Virgil Anthony, your new valet."

Fuck.

"Mr. Anthony," Lord Logan says, in a voice just as pleasant as the rest of his family's, and yet his seems the best, the most striking, the most pull yourself together Virgil that is your boss, "A pleasure."

Virgil bows at the waist the way Sister Leonella had always insisted, since bobbing just the head made one look like a chicken, remembering himself just in time.

"My lord," he says, his brain saying yes, yes, please be mine, please be mine to hold, to kiss, to—

Shut up, he hisses to himself, and straightens back up from his bow.

Now he understands why the Sisters had railed against lust so; he'd never understood before.  He can only hope that Lord Logan has perhaps a repugnant personality, to offset his stately looks, and perhaps knock Virgil into some kind of sense so that he'll stop being such a blithering idiot, even if it is just within his own mind.

The rest of the family murmur greetings that Virgil manages to tear his eyes away from Lord Logan to return, in suitably conscientious fashion. 

Lord Julian tells Braithwaite of some business with the post office if he could get one of the footmen to take care of, if he pleases, and then Braithwaite is leading him out of the room again, and back down the servant's hall, and then the kitchen, and the quarters that are now his.

And then it hits Virgil as he sits on the bed that is now his, in a room that is modest and yet nonetheless much larger than his room at the Dockerys, which had been barely more than a closet, trying his very best to remember everything he’s been told but his mind circling back to Lord Logan, Lord Logan with his fine features and fine hair and fine face and fine body...

A realization makes him sit bolt upright.

It's going to be his job to dress and undress Lord Logan. 

Which means seeing Lord Logan in states of dress and undress. Touching Lord Logan in states of dress and undress.

Fuck indeed.

[fruitcoops]

I usually don't like angsty stuff but I love it with a happy ending and I've been THINKING....

O'Knutzy... one of the boys, let's say Logan, has a nightmare where Finn tells him he doesn't love him anymore and because of that the relationship between the three doesn't work anymore and he loses both of them.

But than he wakes up they cuddle and kiss and everything is fine

This was a rough one to write, but very cathartic. O’Knutzy credit goes to @lumosinlove!

TW for night terrors, crying, and insecurity

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he is alone. Once upon a time, this would not have been unusual, but for the past five months—six? Seven? Leo always teases me for forgetting our anniversary—he has greeted the morning with two warm bodies next to him, their steady breaths easing his mind.

Logan is…cold, this time. He hates being cold. “Peanut?” he calls when he hears sounds from outside the bedroom. “Finn?”

The rustling doesn’t stop; nobody responds. He frowns and clambers out of bed, stretching his back and reaching for one of the many, many hoodies that usually lay crumpled on the chair in their room. Logan stops dead in his tracks when he sees only two there, and both are his own. Panic spikes in his chest. “Mes amours? Where are you?”

“I told you not to wake him up,” Finn whispers harshly. Logan frowns and walks out, nearly tripping over the multitude of cardboard boxes lining the hall. His boys are in the living room, packing the blanket Leo’s mother made for them for Christmas.

“What’s going on?” Logan asks warily as he steps over a box labeled ‘clothes—Finn’. “Why are you packing our things?”

“We’re leaving,” Finn says. His voice is devoid of emotion and he looks at Logan with utter contempt. He feels as if he has been doused in ice water and then set aflame.

“What?” He glances at Leo, who shuffles awkwardly. “Where are we going?”

“Not you.” Leo looks up at him, and his beautiful blue eyes are like chips of ice. “Just us.”

Logan is drowning, he’s sure of it. He is suffocating on the dark cloud of fear and agony that billows from the place his lungs used to be. “No.”

“Yes.” Finn rips a piece of packing tape off the roll and Logan flinches.

“Why?”

“Because I don’t love you anymore.”

Logan’s legs give out and he sits down hard on the floor, barely registering the flash of pain. “But—”

“No.” Finn’s face is twisted and furious all of a sudden, and Logan is almost grateful—at least there is something left of the passionate, bleeding-heart boy that he loves with everything in his fucking body instead of that mask from before. “No, Logan, you don’t get to keep us here. I don’t love you.”

“But you do.” His voice is feeble even to his own ears. “You said it when you kissed me goodnight. Peanut-“

“Don’t call me that,” Leo says quietly. Logan’s heart snaps in half.

“Please.” He doesn’t know what he’s begging for anymore. An explanation, maybe, or just for them to stay. “Please.”

“This is your fault,” Finn continues as he opens a new box. “If you had just talked about your feelings, we wouldn’t have to do this.”

“You don’t have to do anything,” Logan chokes out as the first tears start to fall. “You hate being told what to do.”

“You don’t know me—”

“I do know you!” Logan shouts. It rings throughout the apartment, along with his ragged breaths. “I know you better than anyone. You’re Finn O’Hara, Harzy, my best friend, my Finn—”

“I’m not your anything.”

“Leo, please tell me what’s going on.” Logan turns to Leo and sees almost nothing on his face. For the first time he can remember, that shining sunlight is dim.

“Finn doesn’t love you. I’m going with him.”

“Why?”

“Because I can’t stand being around you.” Exasperation laces Leo’s tone, as if he’s speaking to a child. “The only reason I was with you is because Finn was there.”

Some horrible, strangled noise rips out of Logan’s throat and he covers his mouth with his hands. This is what dying feels like, he thinks. This is it. “Don’t do this,” he pleads, little more than a whisper. “Please don’t.”

Finn opens his mouth, looking straight at him with those hard brown eyes, and Logan knows what he’s about to say. “Good—”

Logan wakes up in a bed, and he’s not alone. A cut-off shout escapes him as he scrambles out of the blankets that threaten to drag him back under and his foot connects with something warm that grunts, reaching out toward him. “No!”

The floor is unforgiving as he falls onto it and shoves himself back against the wall, shaking from head to toe as the beginnings of a scream accompany every shallow breath. “Logan?”

A sob, clogged and gross, tears from his throat and he puts his forehead on his knees. “I’m so sorry,” he blubbers.

“Holy fuck, Lo. Leo, wake up.” More shuffling sounds come from the bed and a sleepy voice murmurs something, confused. “Leo, wake up.”

Two gentle hands rest on his shoulders and Logan thrashes away. “Get off me!”

“Hey, shhhh, it’s me.” The voice is terrified, he can tell. But it is so achingly soft. “Lo baby, it’s just me.”

“F—F—” He can’t even get the name out as more tears pour down his face. Someone slides off the bed and kneels next to him, a dark shadow.

“It’s me,” Finn says again, running his hands down Logan’s arms. “It’s your Finn. Leo’s here, too.”

“Oh my god I’m so sorry.” He balls up tighter, digging his fingers into his thighs. “I’m so sorry, just please don’t leave.”

“We’re not going anywhere,” Leo murmurs, still accented from sleep. Logan makes a noise like a wounded animal and a third hand comes to brush the sweat-damp hair off his forehead. “What’s wrong, Lo?”

“You’re leaving.”

“What?”

“You’re leaving,” he repeats, voice cracking with grief. “You’re leaving and I’m sorry.”

“We’re not leaving,” Finn says. A solid weight presses against the length of his side and an arm comes to rest over his back. “See? We’re both right here for you. You had a nightmare, baby.”

Logan only sobs harder; in his mind’s eye, Finn is still glaring at him with that stonelike distaste as Leo watches him weep with no reaction. “Can you tell us what it was about?” Leo’s hands are broad and warm on the sides of his legs, even through the fabric of his sweatpants.

“You—you don’t—” Logan takes a few gulping breaths. “You don’t love me anymore.”

There is a small, punched-out exhale from Leo and a shuddering gasp from Finn. “That’s not true.” Finn sounds like he’s crying. “That is not true, Logan.”

He shakes his head. “You said it so many times. So many.”

“Look at me, Lo,” Leo says, smoothing Logan’s hair back. “Please look at me.”

Come on, Tremblay, you can do it. He sniffles and raises his head just enough to see over his knees; Leo’s got heartbreak written all over his face as he carefully wipes Logan’s cheeks dry with the heels of his hands. Logan can’t bear to look at Finn right now. His chest still hurts too much. “Please don’t go.”

“I won’t,” Leo promises. Even in the low light of the streetlamps through their window, he glows. “I love you too much to do that. It was just a nightmare, okay? None of that was real.”

A shiver rolls through Logan again and Finn’s arm tightens around him. “It felt real, and it hurt.”

“I’m sorry.” Leo kisses his forehead. “You’re cold. Do you want to go back to bed?”

A slender hand comes into Logan’s periphery and touches Leo on the arm, light as a feather. “Logan, please look at me,” Finn says. Logan squeezes his eyes shut. I can’t. “Please.”

“I asked you to stay.” His voice is broken glass, each word tearing his throat. “I asked you to stay and you looked me in the eyes and told me you didn’t love me. You hated me.”

“Logan, please.” Finn sounds miserable and Logan can hear the tears in his voice as he finally turns. His eyes are so bright, so wide, so Finn as two small rivers form on his cheeks. Bambi, he thinks. “I love you so much, Logan. I would never, ever say that to you.”

Logan’s lower lip wobbles and he leans his head against Finn’s shoulder, prying one hand off his leg to pull Leo close as well. “I know. I know. It wasn’t you.”

That is one thing he is sure of, one thing he would swear in front of God and every angel. Those cold caricatures in his nightmare were wrong on a deep, deep level—Leo radiates kindness. Finn looks at him with nothing but love. Their other selves were the exact opposite of everything Logan adores about his boys.

“Are you going to be alright?” Leo asks as he places a light kiss to Logan’s temple. “We don’t have to go to sleep if you don’t want to.”

“I’m so tired.”

“Okay.” None of them make an effort to stand.

He knows Finn and Leo are having a silent conversation and nuzzles against Finn’s warm collarbone, pulling Leo’s arm up to kiss his wrist. “Can I be in the middle?”

That draws a light laugh from both of them. “Yeah, Lo, you can be in the middle,” Finn says, getting to his feet on wobbly legs and hauling them both up with him. They collapse into bed again, dragging the covers up to their shoulders.

“I feel like a panini,” Logan mutters as they squish him between their chests. There is a moment of silence before they break down laughing and a series of kisses find their homes on his face and back; he wraps an arm around Finn’s chest and presses into Leo’s steady warmth. “Goodnight. I love you.”

“Love you, too, Lo.”

“Love you, baby.” Finn shifts closer and sighs against him. “And that will never change.”

[ask-fantasy-sanders-sides]

What is Ro thinking right now? -𓆙

      Virgil had just gotten done brushing his hair when they heard the commotion outside the Manor.

      Ainsliee squeaks in surprise. She turns to Virgil, boiling over with excitement, gleefully translating the message he had already guessed;

      “Daddy’s back! He’s calling for us!!”

      She grins and rushes over to Virgil, pulling his wrist and dragging him up from his seat. Virgil huffs in annoyance — not at her, of course, but at the bear’s continued barking — and waves his hand,

      “Go on to him, then. But be careful, he’s still dangerous!”

      Without a word of response, Annie dashes away. He doesn’t even think she was listening.

      Virgil sighs, shaking his head. He trusts the Beast spirit not to hurt her, even with it’s unreasonable strength; After how careful the bear had been with him about an hour before, there’s no way he won’t show the same gentleness with his own cub…

      The more cautious parts of Virgil can still imagine her rushing him too quickly and getting crushed on accident, though, so he knows he can’t linger long.

      Virgil stands up to get dressed, still not excited to see his friends again. His stomach churns at the possibilities as he meanders towards a closet, silently hoping Lolth would just strike him down right now so he wouldn’t have to talk to them.

      He just knows they’ll be angry, he feels it in his bones — and even if they aren’t, it will certainly be awkward, and that’s just as bad! 

      (Better to be the first to anger, so you might lead the conversation, Virgil reminds himself as he wallows in dread. He won’t even have to fake his ire if any of them come back injured, which he already knows is unavoidable. Aside from his desire to keep them all unharmed, he really doesn’t want to be owing any more favors…)

      (And even more besides, if he could be petty, Virgil doesn’t want to go back outside. It’s cold and windy tonight, his hair is still damp, his limbs are still sore, his mom has his armor, and he doesn't want to put clothes back on, damnit.)

      Another resounding roar thunders through the night air, and then Virgil feels the entire tree-tower tremble with vibrations.

      Fully realizing that this dire bear is willing to climb the place and rip it open to find him, Virgil grabs the nearest warm-looking robe. He hastily slips it on over his bandages (and quiver belt, which he had already been wearing) as he makes his way out of the Manor.

      ~~~

      Logan watches Roman pace back and forth around the trees, in front of the spiraling stairway that leads up into the complex. He’s been incessantly huffing and stomping around like a petulant child, and Logan has no idea what to say to make him stop; He's been trying ever since the city was in sight.

      Janus and Remus are very pointedly not helping, with Janus giving Logan a meaner side-eye the longer the wailing continues, and Remus yelling back at Roman for no other reason than to join in being loud.

      Patton has less fear of the gigantic, angry animal, approaching the groaning beast and patting a hand on his paw,

      “Aww, c’mon now, Roman. We just got here! Give them a minute to come down,” Patton soothes in a soft voice, “Not everyone is as fast as a giant bear!”

      Roman looks down at him, acknowledging his presence, but he either didn’t understand Patton’s words or wholeheartedly doesn’t care. He softly shakes his paw to scoot Patton away, then rears up on his back legs, raises his arms, then lurches all of his body weight forward and slams into the trunk of the massive tree.

      It doesn’t visibly shudder at his attack — even at his size, these great home-trees of the Faewild are many times wider around than a direbear, and won’t be knocked down so easily — but the intent is clear, and Logan worries someone as sensitive to vibrations as Virgil would be quite frightened. So, Logan quickly steps in, using a more stern tone this time (and his Universal Speech,)

      “That’s enough! You are being impatient,” Logan scolds, “They will come down soon enough. One of them is injured. They can take their time if they wish to.”

      An angry whine interrupts his last few words, but still, Roman backs away from the complex. He keeps growling and barking, but at least he’s not trying to break the damn thing down.

      Right on queue, a little blue girl comes flying down the stairs like a missile, grinning wildly. 

      Logan sighs in relief, happy to see her in good spirits after how they had left off. Roman seems to feel the same, finally quieting down his complaints. He drops his head down to meet her when she approaches, sniffing her as she reaches up to hug his muzzle. She squeezes him as best she can from there, giggling when he pushes down a little to nuzzle her.

      Practically tripping over herself with energy, Annie quickly pops up to bowl Patton over in a hug as well, giving Logan a wide grin over his shoulder as Patton squishes her close to his chest. Logan couldn’t suppress a smile in return, even if he wanted to.

      Virgil appears at the staircase then, looking comically ethereal. His long, re-dyed hair and wide-sleeved elven robe blow in the wind, his expression soft and quietly observant; He looks much more like the picture of a dark-elven noble you would find in a storybook than the grizzled soldier they’ve been travelling with. Even his eyes have changed color, with his sclera turned black and his pupils reflecting pale moonlight. 

      Virgil spots Patton and Annie embracing, and relaxes at the sight of them. Then he turns his gaze on the rest of the team, and his usual scowl returns, eyes glowing red to match. Logan is almost comforted by the familiarity. 

      “Olath ilhar, You’re hurt!” Virgil growls, rushing down to meet them. 

      Logan grumbles to himself over the hypocrisy of that statement, looking over the bandages absolutely covering Virgil’s arms, legs and abdomen.

      Roman shuffles his weight on his paws when he sees Virgil approach, but Virgil holds a hand out to him, scolding,

      “Oh don’t you even start! You will sit and wait your turn!”

      To Logan’s amazement, Roman whines and sits down on the grass, looking thoroughly reprimanded. 

      (Well that is just not fair.)

      Virgil looks over each of them in turn, searching for wounds. He circles Patton first, alarmed by the bandages across his middle. The careful prodding of his hands remains in stark contrast to the snarl in his voice,

      “I wouldn’t have let you go if I knew you were going to be so reckless!”

      “You hardly let us go at all. And, only two of us are injured.” Logan corrects as if he can’t help it, not taking Virgil’s returning glare so seriously.

      “Three of you! Roman is barely standing. And that’s more than half of your party, yutrit'zarreth!” Virgil hisses back. He moves over to Logan and stalks around him, searching him as well.

      “I’m fine, Virgil, I didn’t even get near the battle.” Logan protests, shrugging off Virgil’s patchwork cloak in order to return it.

      Virgil bares his teeth, still unconvinced. Logan sighs and sits through his examination, though he can’t help but complain to himself about how unfair Virgil is being. 

      Reminding himself of Virgil’s wounds, Logan uses their proximity to examine his bandages. They seem fairly well-wrapped, but it’s clear he hasn’t had any magical healing since they saw him last, and the bags under his eyes are dark even for Virgil. Every day it seems Virgil is stretching the limits of what levels of pain a person can ignore — by all accounts, he shouldn’t be conscious right now, much less standing.

      The last few battles, Logan had tried not to think too much about why Virgil does this, and even less about how he became able to. But, at this point, it’s become obvious that he has a very serious problem. Logan’s going to have to do something if he doesn’t want Virgil to drive himself into the grave...

      While he lets himself worry, Logan also notices the belt of Virgil’s quiver is strapped right over his bandages. 

      “Are you wearing that against your bare skin?” Logan scolds before he can stop himself, “What about the wound on your back?”

      “Don’t worry about it.” Virgil grumbles, though bringing it up seems to have scared him off. He snatches his cloak from Logan’s hands, pulling it in under his robe and fastening it so it lies between the robe and his skin, then slinks away, glowering. Logan can’t help but think he’s misstepped, somehow.

      Virgil has already moved on to look over Janus, who also tries to shoos the archer away, insisting he’s unharmed. Virgil hisses at him, too, but quickly moves on to Remus anyway.

      “Get inside and rest, all of you!” Virgil orders as he prowls around him, examining the bruises on his sides and back with gentle touches, “We’ve already lost too much travel time as it is, at this rate we’ll never make it to the Capital.”

      “What about Roman? I doubt he can fit inside, are we just going to leave him out here??” Patton whines. Virgil snaps a short, sharp laugh and glares at the bear,

      “Yeah, for all I care.”

      Roman groans at him, and Virgil snaps something back in Drowic. Logan doesn’t know if he can actually understand Virgil’s words or just the tone in which he’s saying them, but Roman is certainly respecting his orders more than he did Logan’s.

      (Logan quickly reminds himself that Virgil had once claimed to be a Ranger, and answers his own questions on the matter.)

      “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” Logan advises carefully, taking note of Virgil’s mood. He keeps his tone as soothing as possible as he explains,

      “This is his first time shifting, we should stay to make sure he doesn’t do anything reckless. Besides, specifically as a bear, he will grow distressed if we leave his sight.”

      “You’re just saying that because you want to study him.” Janus supplies unhelpfully, apparently living to annoy him. Virgil doesn’t respond, though, and Logan can tell that his reasoning got through to him.

      Remus rolls his eyes, quickly growing bored of their debate,

      “Well, I’m certainly staying with Brother Bear over here, and the three of us have a long overdue heart-to-heart scheduled for, ehhh, right about now~!”

      Virgil pretends not to hear him while he studies the bruise on Remus’s back. Remus frowns at being ignored, turning on his heel and grabbing Virgil’s shoulders to stop him in his tracks,

      “Let’s have a little chat~! You aren’t getting out of this, slick.”

      Virgil glares holes into Remus’s chest, then turns away from him, hissing his discomfort the entire way. Janus looks similarly displeased, leveling an unfriendly look at Remus before taking his hand and following along.

      Logan and Patton follow the three of them, Annie holding Patton’s hand and instructing Roman to follow behind.

      Virgil leads them to a vacated barn, instructing Roman to lie down and wait. Annie nestles in next to his side, and Logan and Patton join her, watching Virgil lead Remus and Janus back out. Virgil keeps himself several paces ahead of them, looking like he might lose his nerve and bolt at any minute.

      Logan and Patton share an uneasy look, only able to speculate about what happened between Virgil and the odd duo…

      Janus doesn’t say a word, worried about getting himself in trouble before they even start the conversation. Virgil already seems tense, and Janus doesn’t ignore the way he positions himself closer to the Manor complex than to the barn.

      Once he’s satisfied they’re far enough away that Logan can’t eavesdrop, he very rigidly turns to face his two old friends, waiting for someone else to start.

      Janus and Virgil just glare in each other’s directions, both refusing to be the first to get vulnerable. (At least Virgil’s eyes are glowing faintly red, so Janus knows where they’re pointed, and where the hell Virgil is.)

      Remus stands with his hands on his hips and glances between them impassively, knowing it’s only a matter of time until one of them cracks.

      Despising the awkward silence more than anything else, Janus finally smirks,

      “Well, you look terrible.”

      “What are you doing here?” Virgil growls, shifting his gaze between the two. He still hasn’t looked either of them in the eye, just glaring at the grass by their feet like it’s done something to offend him; something it took many years to get Virgil to stop doing.

 ��    “Oh, you know I just love the Faewild,” Janus grumbles, folding his arms defensively, “But, this time, I must confess we were mainly looking for you.”

      “Why?” Virgil growls even lower, his eyes turning even brighter red. Janus rolls his eyes at the aggressive display, 80% certain Virgil is simulating it this time.

      “What do you mean ‘why?’” Janus scoffs, quickly growing annoyed, “It’s been so long, I was starting to wonder if you’d gotten lost!” 

      Janus expected the cold reception, of course, but he’s never exactly been lauded for his temper. Remus steps in, knowing a spat is imminent if he doesn’t. He chuckles,

      “You fucked off in quite a rush, but you did say you were coming home eventually.”

      Virgil’s jaw drops.

      He quickly shakes himself out of it and resumes his defensive posture, but the damage was done; The same shocked look spreads to the other two. The three just stare each other down, all of them growing more confused by the minute. 

      Virgil breaks first, looking away at a suddenly very interesting rock as he mumbles,

      “…You expected me to come back?”

      Janus can immediately read the implication under the words; the question Virgil is afraid to ask. He feels his chest constrict a little at the thought, too winded to keep up his usual snark. In all of the visions he had seen to prepare for this moment, Virgil had never reacted like this. Usually he ran, and often he was angry at them or scared of them, but never…dejected.

      “Darling, of course! How could you assume anything else?”

      “I don’t know,” Virgil huffs, shoulders raising up to his ears, “Maybe it was the huge fucking fight we had seconds before I ran off for two fucking years— Aren’t you mad?!”

      “No!” Janus and Remus shout at the same time, with varying levels of surprise and distress. Virgil’s still on the offensive, glaring at them.

      “Fuck off! I almost took your whole arm off, and then you leased that dweomer, and Remus lost it—”

      “That’s not the first time we each went a little crazy, Virgil.” Janus shakes his head, subtly motioning down to his ankle,

      “That’s part of the reason we’ve stuck together for so long, remember?” 

      Virgil smiles a little at the reference, an inside joke between the three of them he thankfully hasn’t forgotten. Still, he seems reluctant.

      He turns a bit towards them now, though he’s started picking at his nails, like he does when he’s really nervous. His eyes are wide and startled, but he still won’t look up,

      “That time was… different. Something happened. I think I…” He shakes his head, steadying his voice before he continues, 

      “No, I know it this time. I’m not going crazy, something cursed me in that cave! All I remember is us knocking over some altar with a crystal on it, and now I can do magic on the surface?! And I got all paranoid about every little move, and I tried to run off for good!”

      “It wasn’t a curse. At least, I don’t think so.” Janus sighs, looking down at his hand, which is now covered in dragon-like scales under his glove. “And it wasn’t just you, either.”

      Remus grins, focusing on drawing forward that strange energy he now houses. He holds out his hand, letting Virgil watch as he conjures the usual smoke effects he’s always been able to summon, now along with some unusual yellow lightning flashing within.

     “Me and Deedee also got some cool new powers~! And some other weird stuff, too!”

      Virgil slowly creeps forward to get a better look, still apparently deciding whether he should be afraid or angry. Very slowly, he reaches up and lays one of his hands on Remus’s, then raises the other. Janus and Remus watch as Virgil’s eyes glow blue, and a cluster of lightning grows out of his skin, dancing around his fingers. A moment later, both magic effects fizzle out with a sharp crackling sound.

      “Where did you learn that?” Janus hums, mildly impressed, though he already knows the answer. Virgil shrugs, looking back towards the barn,

      “Logan’s been teaching me how to control it. I’m still not great at it yet, but I haven’t accidentally killed anyone in several days.” Virgil sighs. He looks around at his friends, finally looking them in the eyes, though he still looks a bit like a frightened animal. Slowly, he adds,

      “I still don’t know how I feel about this,” He admits, then sends a short glance at Remus, “But, you and your brother have to do something together in town, right? So… We’re all going in the same direction, anyway.” 

      “And you’re set on these new guys?” Janus sighs, trying not to sound disappointed. Virgil shrugs.

      “I don’t think I can leave them yet. I’m making progress, but I still need Logan’s help…” Virgil looks back at the barn, an annoyed grumble returning to his tone, 

      “And, these three are kind of pathetic. I really don’t think they’ll make it in one piece without us, anyway.”

      Janus chuckles in agreement, not at all surprised. Remus flips his hair with a smile,

      “Oh, so there’s an ‘us’ now~?”

      Before Virgil can even blush at the slip, Remus is laughing again,

      “Well then, it can’t be helped~ Looks like the three of us are coming with them!”

      “Of course.” Janus nods, “As much as it pains me to waste my time with such irksome people, it would be convenient for us to travel together. And, according to Logan, you need a sorcerer’s help with the whole ‘training’ thing.”

     (Janus avoids adding a snarky remark about how “that also proves that you never should have left to begin with,” though it is difficult.)

      “I’d rather it be you then some other high class know-it-all I haven’t met. One is enough.” Virgil admits, though he can’t resist rolling his eyes at Janus’s snark.

      Now, a bit of a smirk has returned to Virgil’s face. He looks between the two again, blushing slightly and fiddling with his hands again to distract from his brain. Virgil himself is unsure whether he’s more afraid or hopeful. Not that he would ever admit to the latter.

      “So… you really aren’t mad?”

      “No, dear. If any of us have a right to be, it’s you.” Janus sighs. Virgil whines in complaint,

      “But— Two years is a long time for you, you can’t just let me get away with that!”

      “I was busy with something, anyway, so it’s no big deal~” Janus sighs, not quite willing to admit to himself whether or not it’s a lie. To silence Virgil’s arguing he holds one hand out to Virgil, and focuses on melting away just that little section of his glamour.

      Green and yellow scales are revealed all along his hand and wrist, and Virgil gasps for a moment, reaching over to touch them. The look he gives Janus then is devastating, the last of the fear easing out of his shoulders as the memory of that night washes over him.

      “This is what I was scared of?” Virgil frowns, sounding more than a little disappointed in himself, “Your scales are spreading?”

      “There’s much more to it than that,” Janus quickly corrects him, letting the phrase carry a lot of weight for him, “But we can get into that when you’re awake enough to process a more detailed conversation.”

      “I thought you were just born with them. Are you supposed to grow more?”

      “No, I’m not. Like Remus said, you aren’t the only one who was affected.” Janus shrugs, “We both have physical mutations, though not quite like your scars. Remus already mentioned what happened to his wings, didn’t he?”

      Virgil turns to him expectantly. Remus holds his hands behind his back and grins,

      “Ooooh no, I’m saving that surprise for something special. After all, now Roman’s here to see ‘em too, and you know I can’t resist dramatic timing~”

      “Before you keep insisting you’re too dangerous to congregate around,” Janus muses lightly before Virgil can say another word, “You’re not the only one with new temporal magic.”

      Janus takes a tiny amount of pleasure in the momentary horror on Virgil’s face. As a treat.

      “Oh, don’t get all worked up, my love~” Janus teases, patting Virgil’s arm, “I’m not able to affect time in any real sense, I can only predict the future. That’s how we were able to track you somewhat reliably.”

      “That’s terrifying.” Virgil grumbles, “Are you guys having bursts like mine??”

      “Nope. Aside from the visions, which can sneak up on me at times, I’m perfectly in control of my magic.” Janus smirks, “Remus has been having a similar problem to yours, when he gets excited. Not nearly as large-scale, though it can occasionally be dangerous.”

      “And I revel in the chaos of it, so no skin off my back~!” Remus grins. 

      They fall into silence again, though it’s a bit more comfortable now. Virgil shuffles from foot to foot, not quite sure how to end the conversation, or disperse the lingering doubts and awkwardness hanging between them.

      (As much as Virgil can try and dismiss his old feelings as “part of the Madness Roman cured,” there’s still a lot about that night that still doesn’t feel right in Virgil’s gut, and he doesn’t know how long he wants to wait for a longer explanation.)

      (And, though their parting altercation has been mostly dismissed, it’s still been two years since he saw them last. Virgil knows how much non-elves can change in that time. What if even now, with everything said and done, they still can’t go back to the way they were before? What if they’re different now, and they don’t get along as well as they used to? Should he really want to, anyway??)

      Sensing his worries and eager to put them to rest, Janus peels his other glove off as well and steps forward, very gently taking Virgil’s hands.

      “Are you angry?” He asks, softly and genuinely. 

      “You can be upset, Virgil. A lot has happened, it’s okay if you need time.” Janus sends a glance in Remus’s direction, prodding him to help. Remus gives Virgil one of his ‘dazzling’ grins, trying to reassure him that they don’t hold any grudges.

      Virgil relishes the familiar feeling of Janus’s hand, shoving aside his remaining worries. He’ll deal with his lingering doubts later.

      (Their arrival has added an incredible number of new problems to his plate, but he’s frazzled and exhausted. His best friends are back, and they don’t hate him. At least for tonight, that will be enough; God knows he has enough to worry about right now, anyway.)

      Virgil shakes his head, voice still sore from earlier that day, and nearly boneless with exhaustion. Janus and Remus share a knowing look, well aware Virgil is hiding something but too overwhelmed to get into it now. 

      “Let’s just head back in and rest for tonight.” Virgil sighs, brushing his hair behind his ear. He turns to Janus, frowning,

      “In the morning, you’re going to have to tell them about the sorcery thing. And, probably also about being a snake. Logan never leaves it be at one question.”

      “Ugh! You people won’t let me keep any of my secrets!” Janus complains, folding his arms. He already knew he would need to come clean, but that doesn’t mean he has to enjoy it. He tilts his chin up in an expression of faux-contempt, tone mocking,

      “Fine, but only if you promise to actually sleep tonight. I wasn’t kidding earlier, you look like shit.”

��     “That’s not fair, someone has to keep watch!”

      “We have a twenty-foot bear in there, who is going to sneak up on that? You’re being ridiculous.”

      “But what about when Roman changes back in the morning? Someone has to be awake to help him!”

      “I will, then!” Remus scoffs, “I’m his brother, he’s not gonna want anyone else to see him naked. Besides, we all know damn well you’re going to wake up the second anyone moves, hypersensitive ass.” 

      “Oh, shit.” Virgil hums, “We should pick him up some clothes before we head back in…”

      “Ooooh, can I pick them out~?” Remus grins evilly. Virgil slaps his arm, trying not to laugh,

      “No, leave him alone! He’s probably gonna be scared at first. You can bully him later.”

      “You’re such a buzzkill! I don’t remember you being this lame.”

      “Say that again when I have the energy to kick your ass.”

      They playfully shove and bat at each other the whole way up the stairs, being careful of each other’s wounds while threatening to throw the other off the balcony. At the same time, they move slowly, considerate of Janus’s leg and eyesight. 

      Janus watches them and suppresses a fond smile, his cold heart warming at how quickly they’ve started to ease back into their usual dynamic...

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Ask 119     (( @zozomind​​ , @renee-niles​​ ))

Previous

Next

Game Start

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Rules

Most Recent Recap, in case you feel like you missed something!

Available for questions: Logan, Patton, Remus, Janus, Annie, Virgil, and…Roman?

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You have reached the end of Level 2!

Begin Level 3: The Past is Never Dead 

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You can now save your first File in Level 3 with the Game Menu!

Save Files:

File A.1: Communication      ?

File B.2: The Heart of the Matter      ?

File B.3: Angel’s Epithet      ?

File B.4: Pack Tactics      ?

File B.5: Lay Bear the Breast      ?

File B.6: Lay Bare the Beast      ?  

File B.7: Moonlight Dancers      ?

[ !!! WARNING: Save File Limit Breached! ]

[ Which file will you DELETE? ]

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…What a curious title. I wonder what it could mean…

...And it looks like you’ve unlocked something new in the Game Menu!

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(( UPDATED: If you missed the Patreon/Kofi announcement! ))

[missmitchieg]

"How do you kids feel about Miami?" Tiffany questioned with a smile, clasping her hands together.

"I like Miami." Junior decided after contemplating for a moment.

"I hear it has nice beaches." Lexy said awkwardly.

"Oh, the beaches there are lovely!" Tiffany confirmed. "You'll love it... Lexy, is it?"

"Yeah." Lexy smiled.

"I would like to get out of Hackensack." Devon said under his breath.

"Yeah, same." Lexy nodded quickly.

"Then it's settled! As soon at Junior's let out of here, we're road tripping to Florida." Tiffany giggled.

"Fun!" Junior said just as the doctor came in to update them after the surgery.

"Hi, Junior. I'm Dr. Packell. You saw me before about your smoke inhalation." The doctor smiled awkwardly. "We gotta stop meeting like this, kid."

"Hi." Junior hummed, leaning their head on Tiffany's shoulder as they took the last spoonful of Jell-O.

"You're lucky that ambulance got to you so fast. You lost nearly half your blood, and your left lung collapsed." Dr. Packell told them, making Lexy squeeze Junior's hand protectively.

"Well, I made it out alive, thanks to my girlfriend." Junior smiled.

"Yeah, well, you talked me through how to help you." Lexy pointed out.

"Scout Training comes in handy sometimes." Jake chuckled.

"Ah." Dr. Packell nodded with a chuckle. "Well, you'll have to stay for about five days. Just for observation."

"Ok." Junior nodded.

"Then you're free to go. Just take it easy. Try not to get stabbed or trapped in house fires again." The doctor joked. "And I don't think I need to explain there's an extension on that 'no running for a month' rule."

"That will be no problem, doctor. I'll take good care of my baby." Tiffany assured him.

"Oh." The doctor blinked and tilted his head. "You're not staying with your father anymore?"

"Uh, he had a little accident." Junior explained with a smile. "So my aunts Tiff and Nica are gonna take care of me and Jake now."

"Oh, I see. Well, I hope you enjoy living with your aunts."

"I'm sure we will." Jake nodded, eyeing Tiffany who was giving him a mischievous grin.

"Well, I'll let you get some rest now. Just press that call button if you need anything." Dr. Packell grinned and walked out.

Junior hummed and glanced up at Tiffany, reaching up to push their hair back. "Hey, Tiff?"

Tiffany shifted her gaze from Jake to Junior, her smile softening a little.

"Um, do you think maybe I could get a guitar?" Junior asked cautiously, biting their lip.

Jake shared a glance with Devon and turned to watch Tiffany curiously.

"Ohh, of course! Anything for my Baby Bear." Tiffany cooed and stroked Junior's hair. "No drums, though. I can't stand banging on drums."

"Fair enough." Junior chuckled. "Thanks, aunt Tiff."

Lexy raised her eyebrows slightly and gave a sad smile to Tiffany and Junior, wishing she could take away every memory of every time Logan took away something Junior loved and shoved something they hated at them, wishing she could replace that with the love they deserved. She looked down at Caroline, who was playing with the skirt of her dress. "Hey, Care?" She sniffled and knelt down to her sister's level.

"What?" Caroline asked in a monotone voice, not looking up at Lexy.

"How do you feel about going to mom's house to change into something more comfy, and saying goodbye to her?" Lexy asked, wanting them both out of their dresses and in something comfortable to sleep in.

"Ok."

"Jake, do you mind coming with us? I'm sure Jun will be fine with just Tiffany and Devon for a while." Lexy asked him hopefully, wringing her fingers.

"Uh, sure." Jake agreed so the three of them walked out of the hospital to see Michelle waiting in the car.

Lexy furrowed her eyebrows at that and walked to the car, getting in the backseat with Jake and Caroline. "Did you really just sit out here for hours?" She asked incredulously.

"Well, I had to know how my daughter's boyfriend was doing!" Michelle huffed, rolling her eyes.

"They're fine. Just take us home so we can change." Lexy scowled.

"And what about him?" Michelle asked as she started to drive home.

"I feel safer with him around." Lexy said honestly and shrugged, making Jake give her a surprised smile.

"Really, Lex?" Jake asked.

"Yeah." Lexy gave him a small smile.

"Sorry, can I ask when you two went from hating each other to best friends?" Michelle snapped.

"After he saved me from the one responsible for all of the murders." Lexy stated casually.

"Woah, what?" Michelle demanded. "When were you going to tell me he targeted you?"

"Long story. You don't wanna know. Look, we just want out of our dresses so can you step on it, please?" Lexy demanded back, crossing her arms.

Michelle rolled her eyes but nodded, speeding home in record time. "A little more respect would be nice."

"Yeah, I know." Lexy scoffed.

Jake snorted in amusement, looking up at Lexy when he felt his eyes on her. "Lex?"

Lexy just sighed, nudging her head in Michelle's direction.

Jake felt his face twitch and his fists clench but nodded in understanding. He didn't need words to know what she was asking him to do.

Michelle squinted her eyes suspiciously at the two teenagers but shook her head, parking in the driveway. "Ok. We're home, kids. Let me unlock the door."

Lexy unbuckled Caroline's booster seat and helped her out of the car quickly, watching Michelle walk to the door and unlock it with sad eyes. She took Caroline's hand and walked inside with her and Jake, shivering at the memory of Chucky trying to goad and coax the boy into letting her die. "I really hate this place." She muttered, scowling as she walked to Caroline's "bedroom" to help her change first.

Caroline hummed to herself as she picked out her Princess Ariel t-shirt and pink jeans, changing quickly. "All ready." She announced so Lexy went to her own "bedroom" to pick an outfit, not that she even had much to pick from anymore.

Lexy sighed and changed back into her black shirt, red flannel and blue jeans, and converse. She looked down at her outfit and smiled, feeling more like herself now. Or at least, a version of herself that she liked a little more. She sighed and walked out of her room, her smile fading at her mom's scowl. "Must you always look at me like that?"

"I'm not looking at you any sort of way." Michelle denied.

"Yes, you are!" Lexy shouted, crossing her arms. "You always look at me like I'm the spawn of the fucking Devil! You barely talk to me and when you do, it's always something bad!" She accused.

"Lexy..." Michelle frowned at her daughter.

"Well, I'm tired of it! I'm tired of being the one who is always doing something wrong! I'm tired of never being fucking good enough! I'm tired of you loving Care more than me!" Lexy yelled, her fists shaking. "I'm tired of you hating me." She finished, her voice cracking at the end. "Goodbye, mom."

"What?" Michelle whispered.

"Bye, mommy." Caroline said softly, letting Lexy pick her up and shield her from something she didn't need to see.

Lexy held Caroline protectively, giving Jake a look.

Jake nodded back at her, taking a deep breath.

"Lexy? Jake?"

Jake scrunched his face up and lifted his hands, tightening them around Michelle's throat.

Lexy busied herself with collecting the few necessities Caroline didn't lose in the fire into suitcases, trying her hardest to drown out the sound of her mom coughing and gasping for air. She ran to the front door, pulling the suitcases behind her. She needed to get her and her sister back out of that house, and for good this time. She sighed in relief as she heard the corpse fall to the ground, running outside with Jake right behind her.

"Think anyone in this shithole's gonna miss her?" He asked, wrapping a protective arm around her.

"Doubt it." Lexy scoffed, pressing a kiss to Caroline's forehead.

"Lexy, can we get McDonald's for dinner tonight?" Caroline asked.

"We'll ask aunt Tiff." Jake promised.

"Ok."

"Come on. I'll drive." Jake smiled, holding up the car keys he took from Michelle.

"Wh- Jake, we're fourteen." Lexy stared at him wide eyed.

"We'll be fine." Jake assured her and opened the door.

Lexy eyed him skeptically but got Caroline back in the car without a fight, buckling her in. She climbed into the passenger seat and buckled up as Jake started the drive back to the hospital.

"Hey." Lexy piped up.

"Yeah?"

"Thanks for getting rid of her so she wouldn't come looking for us." Lexy smiled.

"Lexy, anything for you two." Jake promised.

"Thank you. I really appreciate that." Lexy said genuinely, looking up when they got back to the hospital. She helped Caroline back out again and walked to Junior's room with Jake, blinking as she heard Tiffany cackle her way through a story about her and Chucky. "Hey, we're back. We brought some of Care's stuff with us. Trust me, you don't wanna know what she's like without it. The other stuff can be replaced soon."

"Hey, guys." Junior mumbled, munching on ice chips.

"Hey." Devon smiled, high fiving Jake.

"Oh, my other babies are back!" Tiffany smiled, pressing kisses to their cheeks.

"Hey, aunt Tiff." Lexy said awkwardly, cringing inwardly. She would have to get used to that, though it would be a long time before she could. "Um, Caroline told us she wants McDonald's for dinner tonight. Is that ok?" She asked, placing Caroline on the floor to explore as she liked.

"Sure, I'll pick up some Mickey D's for the little princess! What do you want, Baby girl?" Tiffany asked in her nasal voice, patting her head.

"A McChicken, french fries, chicken nuggets, and apple juice." Caroline ordered, playing with the braids Lexy put in her hair.

"Baby Girl's got an appetite, huh?" Tiffany joked with Lexy, making her chuckle.

"She does like her food. What few foods she will eat."

"What things won't she eat?" Jake asked, ready to take mental notes.

"Oh, she's big on McDonald's specifically. She'll only eat frozen bananas. Sometimes Granny Smith apples. Green grapes. Not the red ones. She hates those. Uh, she likes garlic bread, pepperoni, just not on pizza, most vegetables, and her favorite chocolate is Snickers." Lexy listed off the top of her head, smiling at the group.

"Woah." Devon breathed.

"You know your sister well, huh?" Jake asked, an impressed smile on his face.

"Oh, yeah. Just sisterly things."

"That's really cute." Junior noted.

Lexy shrugged, looking down when Caroline patted her hip. "Do you want something?"

"I want my blankie. I want my blankie. I want my blankie." Caroline demanded so Lexy fished it out of the baby pink suitcase, handing it to her quickly.

"Aww, I love my new little family." Tiffany smiled, scrunching her nose up.

"Love you, too, aunt Tiff." Junior grinned.

[panic-at-the-fiction]

1973 pt2

Summary: (y/n) life hasn’t been the same since the school closed down and neither has her father. But there seems to be a sign of hope of the man he used to be returning with this new mission.

Warnings: I’m not doing this word for word with the movie ok. You’ve seen the movie you know how it goes.

a/n: I hope y’all like this. I know it’s going slow but I want build relationships with the characters around her not just with Peter. You got Logan who’s like the big bro everyone needs and Hank the fun uncle obviously and even Charles who right now is the absent father figure she cant even call dad. Hope you like that touch, her just referring to him as Charles other than in sarcastic context. @whyiswhatahow @willalaufeyson

We had been in the car for a few hours now with no breaks. We needed to get to Washington, DC as quickly as we could. After we found Logan’s friend, who was luckily living in Virginia only an hour away from the pentagon, we packed our things and left really early in the morning. We should be at the pentagon by 11:00.

Charles had insisted on driving. Which is bad considering he drives like an absolute madman. Hank looked like he would puke. When you're like Charles Xavier and you give up all hope, you too might drive like a madman. Logan and I, we’re in the back seat.

I’m still on the fence about believing him. Hank and Charles jumped right into helping him break a criminal out of high security prison in the hopes of helping Raven, but for all we know, she’s not in any trouble and this guy is actually working for Eric.

I turn to face him, “So Logan, tell me more about the future?”

“I already told you, kid, it’s too dangerous for you to know more than you need to. You had a good life in the future. I don't wanna mess it up.”

“Who’s to say you telling me about my life isn’t the reason I have that life.”

“That’s not how this works. Once I do what I do here, and I go back. It will be like the last 50 years I know never happened.”

“Sounds to me like no matter what you tell me, it’s going to be different anyways.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes.

“Fine, don't tell me about the future. Tell me about this friend or yours. Why do we even need him of all mutants?”

“He’s name is Peter, when I met him he was much older. Let’s just say he has some personal stakes in this, just as you do. Even if he may not know it yet.”

“Can we even trust him? If you don’t meet him until years from now, who says he’ll be the same guy you knew?”

“I don’t know much about his life as a teenager but from what I heard he liked breaking into things just to prove he could do it.” Logan smiled like he remembered something, but shook his head and continued. “Don’t worry about him, though, I’m sure you’ll trust him once you meet him.”

After that, we sat in silence. He wasn’t going to answer my questions about the future, and there wasn’t much to ask about this Peter anymore. Even if I did have a feeling that there was something Logan wasn’t telling me about him. I kept reaching into his emotions and on the surface he felt like a smartalec who’s making inside jokes that we can’t understand, but when I looked any deeper it was pain, grief and regret all twisted inside him. I liked Logan, but I didn’t like being around him and his deep emotions.

After 4 hours on the road, we finally pulled up to this boy's house. It was fairly normal looking except for the burnt out welcome mat. Charles knocked on the door and only a few seconds later an exasperated looking woman opened the door. “What has he done now? Whatever it is, I'll pay for it.” I smiled, I could feel the emotions of a little girl inside the house. She was having a blast playing dress up, and it was one of the better feelings I’ve gotten in a while.

“We aren’t cops, ma’am, we just need to talk to Peter.”

She sighed and moved to let us in and pointed to where the stairs were to the basement. It was packed with dozens of boxes which looked to have been stolen. Off to the left there was a brand-new Pac-Man machine and a pull-out couch. Right in front of the stairs, tho, was a ping pong table with a blur of silver running back and forth fast enough to play a game without a partner.

I couldn’t get a clear view of it at all, but it still spoke up. “Whatever it is, I didn't do it.”

“Of course you didn't.” Charles said sarcastically, scanning the room of all its stolen objects.

“Listen, Peter, we’re not cops.” Logan said, taking a step toward the table. Before he could take one more, the blur was gone.

“What is he? A teleporter?” Hank asked,

“I think he’s just fast.” I said. This Peter was definitely something. I couldn’t even see him for how fast he was going.

“Of course you’re not cops. If you were cops, why would you be driving a rental car?”

We all turned toward the voice. He was now sitting stretched out on the couch with a popsicle in hand. He had an arrogant smile and oddly enough silver hair that looked as if he may have stuck his head out a window of a moving car.

“Are you FBI?” I chuckled at the silly accusation, and I caught his eyes. For a moment, I felt a burst of nervousness that I wasn’t sure was mine. Then a gust of wind flew by me, and before I knew it the boy was standing only a few feet from us. “Nope, not FBI. Hey, what’s this gifted youngster place?” I looked in his hand and sure enough he had dear old dad's wallet.

“It’s an old card.” He said grumpily as he reached for his wallet. Peter only dropped the wallet and moved onto his Pac-Man game.

“He’s fascinating.” I said.

“He’s a pain in the ass.” Charles didn’t seem too pleased with this peter.

I just laughed at my dad’s irritation. I walked over to the arcade game next to where he was sitting. “You have to go left first if you're going to get around in time to beat the ghost.” I said getting absorbed deep into the game.

“How do you know that?”

“I memorized the levels.” I could see him give me a shocked look out of the corner of my eye, but I just kept staring at the screen. He felt nervous but impressed, and I was trying to not let it get to my head. “I have an eidetic memory.”

He turned back to his game. “Listen, Peter, we need your help to break someone out of prison.”

I pulled away from the game and took a few steps back over to the group. “You know that's illegal.” He said sarcastically. I laughed this time, and I felt Peter's emotions tense up.

“Only if you get caught.” I whipped back. Charles was giving me the dad side eye.

“What’s in it for me?”

I could tell Charles was getting annoyed. Mainly Because he was beginning to sober up from his hangover, but also because of the new kid peter being a quoted pain in the ass. “You, you kleptomaniac, get to break into the pentagon.”

Peter turned around, his eyes wide with excitement. For a moment he looked at me, questioning something. “How do I know I can trust you guys?”

“Because we’re just like you.” Hank said.

“Show him.” Charles almost smiled. Logan kept a straight but intense face as he let the bone-like claws rise from his knuckles.

Peter's face went white at the site. “That’s gross but… I’m in.”

[princeanxious]

Why would you hide the Villain remus and Janus thing in the tags, I'd read the hell outta Hero Virgil turned Villain

you mean this??? shdbic aaa Yeah I want to write it, but i also want to write a lot of things. xD but this is def one of those things i’d love to write a short-ish one-shot about just so I can write it.

can you imagine? Virgil, young and anxious, manifesting powers of the light and dark variety, able to manipulate shadows and summon electricity with such fine precision because he’s spent so long fretting over accidentally hurting someone with it that he refused to even dare try and step into the hero scene until he was 150% certain that he’d trained his powers to disconnect from his emotions so that he’d never have an outburst that could even harmlessly shock or scare someone. He’s so in control over his powers that its to an insane degree just because he wants to make sure he cant hurt anybody on accident.

(complete ramble continued under the cut bc boy howdy this got so long it might as well be its own short one-shot)

And, he’s worked so in depth with his powers because of course he can’t just suppress them!(Suppressing electricity based powers doesn’t get rid of that energy, it just makes that constantly generating energy stay put and build, which makes it even more dangerous when it’s finally released, so suppression is a no go) So of course not only does he work extensively with learning how to control his powers, but also how to healthily use them and expend his energy safely, effectively, and skillfully as he grows into them. Might as well push your limits of learning just how much your power can do if you have to learn how to exist safely around others by controlling it, right?

So, by default, by the time Virgil is both old enough and confident enough in his powers to consentingly apply for registry to the worlds heroes association, he’s both insanely skilled with his powers, and also insanely talented(the equivalent to a child prodigy, not that many people in charge of the worlds hero association believe that, though.). The people who had been interviewing him believed the same, thinking him to be just another super teenager boasting about his skills when they couldn’t even sense his power, thinking that what little power Virgil did have was not even worth bothering to report anything substantial about the interview. That he’d oughta go try the villain’s headquarters, because at least they take in wandering powerless for henchmen all the time.

Virgil, feeling pissed but not quite enraged yet, because what teenager wouldn’t hate it to be so invalidated and demeaned at being out right dismissed as a threat, let alone considered more of an invalid for not having powers, starts to display his power. 

First it’s the main interviewer’s phone that they’d been glancing boredly at, drained suddenly of all power. Then it’s the landline of that specific room, then it’s the lamp, the computer suddenly shuts off with zero warning and nothing of it turns on. The lamp in the corner of the room goes dark, bulb by bulb, and the printer in the room dies. Virgil’s eyes are glowing violet but he hasn’t moved any more than the annoyed twitch of an eyelid. the light’s overhead turn off, leaving the lights in the hallway still on, leaving the remaining light in the room coming from the single window in the room and the open doorway. 

He reaches up a hand, and snaps once, and shadows swallow up the light over the hallway and the window, acting as a wall from the inside and out. 

Now the only light in the room is his glowing eyes.

The second interviewer is struggling to summon fire from her hands to light the room, but it doesn’t work. The energy she’s using to summon the fire is immediately sapped by Virgil’s force, there isn’t even a spark. The first interviewer can feel Virgil’s power now, it’s bright and burning. It’s like he has a core in the middle of his being like a sun’s core because its storing so much power, and the only reason they can see it now is because Virgil’s using his power. He has so much control that even on a nonphysical level it’s nearly tangible, the way that they can see his shadow powers conceal even the existence of his power, now that they know what their looking at.

In mere seconds, this kid has tipped the world on their head and put the fear of god into them, an undetected yet undeniable threat in the making. 

They watch his eyes tilt with his head, and the distinct sound of the entire building powering down is unmistakable, shouts of surprise and confusion due to the failure of the buildings many fail-safes failing to trigger. And then, with another snap, all power is restored to normal in the blink of the eye, all machines and lights are functioning perfectly, not an irregular shadow in sight, and all at once Virgil reads as a normal human teenager, not a whiff of power to be sensed. He looks pretty peeved, though.

“Maybe I will try my luck at the Dark Side then, at least they care about the people that look to be taken in. Let me know if you changed your mind, I’d love to have a do-over. With a different set of interviewers, mind you.” before he walks out of the interview room, off to blow off some steam legally and safely.

Imagine his outrage when a week later he’s served a summons to court, deeming him a “Threat to Society” and “better left in jail until the court can be convinced of his good nature” because he’s an “out of control juvenile gifted with an unprecedented amount of power that he couldn’t possibly control without strict legal supervision and interference and cannot be trusted to continue to exist as a normal citizen until the W.H.A deems it safe.”

Faced with possible lifelong inprisonment and zero control over the rest of his life because an association of supers think that they know better and that he’s some stupid teenager that was set loose on the world with means to only cause catastrophe and devastation, or freedom at the hands of some ambiguously grey moral decisions every once in a while and being treated as a normal human being even if he has to be a henchman to another super for a while? 

The decision isn’t a hard one to make.

So imagine his surprise when he’s not only accepted into the Dark Side after being respectfully asked to demonstrate the full extent of his power and his control over it, but instead of becoming a villain’s henchmen, he instead gains the full title of Villain(with another Villain(Janus) stepping in to mentor him and show him the ropes of the rules and everything), and even further: Gets his own henchmen assigned to him. 

A pair, Patton and Logan. 

Patton has a partial shapeshifting ability, but it only really lets him turn into a big frog man, making him perfect for doing any of the main heavy lifting for the team, and also perfect for protecting Logan when under attack. He’s built like a himbo and is absolutely 100% a himbo, heart of gold, super strong, buff dad bod, the whole sha-bang.

Logan has a power that is one part linked with memory, one part linked with technology. His brain can retain information like a computer databank, and he can get any misfunctioning technology to work if he can get his hands on it or a connection to it. He avoids all the quirks that interfere or damage real databanks and technology(like magnets, water, and short-circuiting) and can semi-directly connect with devices he is familiar with, without having to hold/touch/look at one.

All together, they have the beginnings of a well rounded team: the brawns, the brains, and the leader with plans and the power to make it happen. Even before finding out their reasons for coming to the dark side, Virgil becomes ride or die for them. (And honestly, they’re also pretty ride or die for him too, not even starting with the fact that they’re both like 26-27 and Virgil is an 18 year old anxious mess that had to make the decision over being the bad guy or losing any and all autonomy for the foreseeable future, which is gonna fuck up any kid and young adult’s brain. So, lowkey adopt him as a younger sibling even though he’s the boss of them and just barely taller than them.(Virgil is a tol lanky boi, and while Logan, standing at 5′9″, is but an inch shorter than Virgil at the start, Virgil still has growing room and peaks at about 6′4″ by the time hes 22. Patton at his normal height is like 5′6″, but frog man height is like 8′3″)

Oh, and they definitely make the Worlds Hero Association regret not taking Virgil’s existence kindly, Big Time.

[notaversetohedonism]

How They All Found Out : A moxiety oneshot

Word count : 1273

A/N : I really hope you guys like this one! I loved the concept and I really hope I bring it justice in this oneshot! My original prompt was "Patton rising up wearing Virgil's hoodie" so I hope the title is just a little more creative than that haha

Patton felt that familiar tug on his chest, and as he always did, he followed without a second thought. He was.. impulsive, and had slight issues with not thinking before acting : hence the reason he had once shown up in Thomas' living room while not wearing pants. THAT had been a fun conversation later.

He looked to his left, to Roman. It was clear that he had been the one to summon Patton, so he could only assume he was to first look to Creativity. Why was it clear? Well, Logan was not known for summoning the others gently, and while Virgil was far better at it, he had just been in Patton's room with him and... oh no. Patton looked down to confirm what he already knew and yep. That was in fact Virgil's hoodie he was wearing. It was at this point that he realised the whole room was silent. So silent that one could hear a pin drop. As Patton focused on Roman, he saw that his jaw was dropped. Nervously, he looked to Logan, whose eyebrows were raised and his eyes looked a little wide. Thomas was smirking. Patton's gaze went back to Roman just long enough to see him make a pulling gesture with his arm. And then there were 5.

"Um, rude-" were the only words Virgil was able to get out before he saw the look on Patton's face. The furious blushing, the tentative smile. And if Patton had looked adorable in his hoodie before, it was nothing compared to now. Roman, always one to butt in on a cute moment, opened his mouth,

"I- seriously?" He was grinning so widely it looked as though his face might spilt in two. Patton's face was on fire, as was Virgil's, if for very different reasons. Hurriedly, Patton pulled the hoodie off and chucked it in Virgil's direction. It was at this moment that Virgil realised... he fucked up. Pulling the hoodie on and over his head, he groaned to himself. Rather loudly. As if there was no-one else in the room, Patton spoke quietly, in the fondest tone imaginable.

"Sorry, Virge, I forgot I still had it on." Virgil, still blushing a shade so red it practically surpassed puce, could only think to reply with the first thing that came into his head.

"It's fine. It- it looks nice on you." It was Logan's turn to smile now. A small smirk gracing his lips. They were so... fond. He really was happy for them : even though they had not confirmed to him the nature of their relationship, he was no fool. It was the kind of moment one would expect to last a long time. However, Thomas and Roman both appeared to have other plans in mind. They spoke in a jumble at first, but Roman, as usual for conversations of this nature, won out,

"Ok Ok Ok, let me get this straight. Ha, I doubt I can!" Thomas snorted into his hand, still staring at the two blushing men delightedly, "So you," he pointed to Patton, "and you" to Virgil, "clearly have something going on here!" Roman was triumphant in his tone, still grinning widely. Patton turned to Virgil, asking with his eyes the questions his mouth didn't allow him to. Is this ok? Can we tell them about this? I know it's personal for you, are you ready? Without a word, Virgil slipped off his spot on the stairs and made his way over to Patton, bypassing Roman entirely, causing the taller side to look only mildly offended for a change. He slid his hand into Patton's and instantly felt the oh so familiar tangle of Patton's warm fingers within his own. His breathing was a little faster than usual, and he had acted rather on impulse, but he hoped that the look on his face was relatively level. He didn't dare look at Patton : he could feel his grin in the air and he knew that if he looked he'd do something positively stupid like grin back or even kiss him.

Instead, he opted to turn to the romantic side. And oh, what a sight the romantic side was in that moment. The look on his face was priceless, and Virgil silently took a mental photograph that he could laugh at later. His eyes were as wide as the grin on his face. He held one hand over his heart, and the other was laid dramatically over his forehead.

"Finally! Finally you two are dating! Wait, that is what this is, isn't it?" He was 98% positive it was, but he had learnt not to assume. After all, it really did make an "as out of su and me". But for once, his assumption was validated as both Patton and Virgil nodded their heads. "I have endured the pining for MONTHS! I'm fairly convinced you two didn't even realise it, but you have been head over heels for as long as I can remember!" Patton stifled a little giggle at this.

"Actually Ro, the pining wasn't all that bad. We've been dating for a month." Roman swooned, and Thomas decided to take this rare break from Roman's incessant chatter to give his own two cents.

"You know, this is simultaneously a complete surprise and very expected." Virgil was a little nervous to hear what Thomas was about to say, but he instead convinced himself to focus on Patton's thumb that was tracing absent minded circles on his own. "I mean, I obviously noticed the pining," Patton was blushing furiously at this point. "but I really didn't think you guys would get the courage to act on it yet! Congrats guys, you make a cute couple."

"Thanks, Thomas." said Patton quietly, and in that moment Virgil could see just how important it was to his boyfriend that everyone was ok with this relationship.

It was at this point that Virgil and Patton noticed that while Roman and Thomas wore identical grins, Logan had not said a word. Virgil's nerves were written all over his face, and while Patton still wore his grin it faltered just a little, and his grip on Virgil's hand tightened.

"L-lo? I know this is a big adjustment to ask you to make, but we're really happy and we hope you can be happy for us." Logan looked up at Virgil in surprise. Shit. Realising very suddenly that his silence could be interpreted as a lack of support, his words spilled out in a way that was most unordinary.

"O-of course I'm happy for you! I apologise that my silence was interpreted as a lack of, I was simply lost in thought." regaining some composure, Logan continued on to say, "I was merely happy that you two had finally chosen to act on your feelings, you haven't been as subtle with them as I am inclined to believe you thought you were." He stifled a smirk as Patton and Virgil's previously toned down blushing appeared once more with a fiery passion. Patton buried his head in Virgil's hoodie with a small smile that could not be more genuine.

"Thanks L." And suddenly, the smile on Logan's face shifted in a direction none of them were completely used to. It was sincere, with not a hint of a knowing smirk. Roman was still grinning, and Thomas looked genuinely pleased for them. Even Virgil, anxiety himself, had the biggest smile any side other than Patton had ever seen on him.

Virgil was right. This would be a big adjustment. But it was nothing they couldn't handle. And they were ready for it all.

[evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn]

5 Reasons Roman Is Infuriating (And Why I DO NOT have a crush on him)

(Logince with a bit of denying and pining) Read on AO3

My first fic, based on my Logince drawing (If someone ever wants to make anything based on my art, feel free to ask. Making content is hard and people fleshing out concepts is always fun.) Word count: 3641

Tw: Cursing, Food mention, Balloon popping, Remus being his authentic self

Character’s: Remus, Virgil, Janus, Logan, Roman (At the end), Patton (Mainly implied)

~~~

He had everything ready.

"Ahem."

Three heads turn to look at him.

"Logan, I really don't understand why you're doing this. You know I'm literally the Lord of the Lies, right? I can tell when you're lying."

"Falsehood. I am here specifically to prove to you three, the ones that have doubted me the most, what I think of Roman, so that you'll stop teasing me about emotions that aren't even there." Logan says, standing in front of a long classroom table. Virgil, Janus and Remus sit there, each maintaining their own postures and looking at him with disbelieving expressions.

"Logan, we can see your heart boner from here. You really think you can convince us with a slideshow presentation?" Remus picks his teeth, seemingly bored of the idea.

"That's exactly what I'm doing- What? Why would my heart have a boner? It doesn't have the proper parts to do that-" Logan looks lost, clutching the presentation button in his hand.

"It's an expression, Pocket Protector. It means you've got feelings for him." Virgil sighs.

Logan squints at him. "Of course I have feelings for him." Logan looks behind him, to the SmartBoard behind him. The board turns on, displaying the presentation title. "And those feelings are feelings of irritation. My name is Logan Sanders, and welcome to my Ted Talk."

There is a collective sigh from the others.

Logan takes a pointer stick (the one with the little hand on one side) from a holder on the wall, and points at the words on the screen. "This is 5 reasons why Roman is infuriating. And unlike your cognitive distortions may suggest, I DO NOT have a crush on him." He gestures with the stick where the same thing is written. "So, let's begin."

~~~

1. He likes to insist that he's the most handsome side, despite us all looking like Thomas.

It's ridiculous. All of their traits are reminiscent of Thomas's.

There are some mild changes they go through when they aren't summoned, but they are just slight shifts. For example, Janus and Remus both have different long hairstyles, and they all have a bit of a hair color change. Their features do shift too, emulating ones Thomas has seen over his lifetime that he'd associate with their personalities.

However, in person and in the mindscape, Roman really thinks 'he's the sh*t' (Virgil taught him that expression). He flaunts his beauty over everyone else's, strutting like the prettiest peacock in the flock. Sure, he's good looking, but the same level of good looking as all the other sides.

"You're all so handsome. But not as handsome as me." Logan recalls him saying in an episode.

He tries to use it to one-up the other's, even though they all know they look the same. He also enjoys flaunting his ego, attempting to emulate a lifestyle of the rich and famous when he feels like it.

It's rather ridiculous.

"You think he's good-looking?" Remus coos.

Logan glares, and changes the slide of the presentation.

2. He fights everyone all the time. (Except for Patton)

It seems that Roman has made the most rivals out of everyone.

He's rivals with his brother, he's got a rivalry with Janus but with more betrayal behind it, he's got his past rivalry with Virgil, even though now they're the closest friends, and despite making up several times, Logan is also his rival. Patton seems to be fine, despite their post-wedding event. Logan believes Roman is too worried of defending what he believes in against the literal embodiment of Thomas's morality.

"So, you two have tried making up, but have you considered... Making out???" Remus pitches, his smile all teeth.

Logan sputters a bit. "Puh- Wha- I don't think that would work."

Logan has in fact not thought of making out with Roman, thank you very much. Not even when they're so close, passionately arguing about who-knows-what in the spur of the moment, where it would be so easy to move just a little bit closer and connect his lips to the soft pink ones of the prince.

He has not thought about making out with Roman, because he does not have a crush on him. Period. End of story.

The two of them argue a lot. Whether it's how Thomas should spend his day, to the Chicken or the Egg dilemma (Logan knows he's right, by the way, Roman just won't see that the egg came first), to the ideal temperature for a heating pillow, to the best Crofter's flavor. They can range from productive, to stupid, and by the end of it they may just be fighting about nothing at all.

They jab at each other, come up with clever arguments, and although they're technically fighting, it sometimes feels more like a duel.

"Or a mating ritual." Virgil says under his breath.

"These points don't sound very negative." Janus adds, twirling some of his hair with his finger.

"It is negative. We fight a lot. He fights people a lot. Every issue seems to be a battle to him that he can outmatch, despite being better suited as a civil discussion." Logan stands taller, trying to defend his point.

"Well, that makes sense. I understand this point now. Go on." Janus waves his gloved hand in a dismissive gesture.

"Alright." Logan clicks his presenter button, and the slide changes.

3. He's loud. Super loud. All the time.

From singing to dancing to bantering, there never does seem to be a dull moment when Roman is around. Some may call it nice, but Logan would say that's a very polite description. It certainly isn't nice when Logan's trying to get work done, or watch a movie, or enjoy a peaceful breakfast, or most of the time really.

Logan has stopped working outside when he's trying to be productive because Roman will, without fail, come in singing, and then start a little fight with Logan that distracts him from his work and renders him unproductive for a long time because all he can think about is Roman.

"Hm... Wonder why that is." Janus interrupts, rolling his eyes.

"Well, you don't need to wonder. I said it was because of our fighting." Logan nervously adjusts his already immaculately placed glasses, resuming his point to his slide presentation.

It's odd, because sometimes even without leaving his room, he can still hear the sounds of Roman's voice in his head. He theorizes the absence of all that noise is making him subconsciously fill it in ( even though his mind also provides him with clear images of Roman's smile).

He can't escape the noise on movie nights. Roman will sing along to any song, scream at the most poorly-timed jumpscares, and no matter what, criticize the movie. Logan does participate in that last step from time to time.

During dinners, it depends. Sometimes, Roman will come in and do his thing, sometimes he'll make a dramatic entrance, grab a plate and then go off to work on something, and sometimes he won't show up at all, off on a quest in the imagination. Those particular meals are peaceful. Sometimes they feel empty, but so far, no one else has complained. Especially considering with Remus' and Janus' seats added to the table, dinner can be a wild event.

Sometimes, when Logan gets lonely, he'll bring his work outside. Every time, he can guarantee that Roman will be there eventually. He provides a healthy distraction, and he always feels much lighter after a bantering session.

But most of the time, he just can't stand it. How can one be so flamboyant for so many hours of the day? Logan had theorized it had something to do with overcompensation, his need for validation and attention, but then thought it was strange theorizing about his friends and went back to work.

Overall, not the worst trait, but it being applied to every scenario adds to the fact that he is infuriating.

"Hold on, can we circle back to the part where you said you thought of him smiling-" Virgil begins, only to be interrupted by Logan pointing his pointer at him.

"No, we will not. Next point."

4. He makes up stupid nicknames.

And he makes a lot of them. Even during serious talks, you'd think he had forgotten your name and was too scared to ask, so he supplies an abundance of back-ups to make you feel special. And they are quite varied, though all slightly jabbing. There are play-on-words, references thrown about... It would have impressed Logan, had all of his designated nicknames not revolved around him being a nerd.

"Hey Microsoft Turd."

"I need your help, Egghead."

"Listen here, Erlenmeyer Trash-"

"Calculator Watch."

"Oh Book Geeeerm~"

"Sure thing Specs."

Logan actually didn't mind specs, but his point still stands. All insulting, clever, but still stupid nicknames. Sometimes, he wonders if Roman keeps a book of them around. Somewhere in his room, filled with all the names he'll unleash onto his unsuspecting companions. Logan may have tried to come up with a list of his own in retaliation, but he couldn't think of anything Roman would think was clever. He spent almost a full night on it, hair a mess, glasses askew, head resting on his desk as he tried to come up with something at least remotely good enough. It interrupted his perfect circadian rhythm. Never again.

Except for the next night, where he tried the exact same stunt again, but that doesn't matter.

What does, is that all of those factors cause aggravation. He always feels weird when Roman gives him a nickname, varying from annoyance to a strange tingling.

"Are you saying he should stop?" Virgil interrupts, frustrated. "This point is going nowhere."

"I-" He's not sure. Although some of the insults are quite jabbing, Logan does want to support Roman's creative process. Not to mention, the nickname ‘specs’ oddly does hold a place in his heart.

"OoOoOoohhh, I have an idea!" Remus cackles. Although Logan is hesitant, he gestures to continue. "Okay, so pinky swear I won't try anything on you, but just close your eyes, and imagine how this nickname would make you feel if Roman said it."

Logan apprehensively closes his eyes, and Remus does nothing but lean slightly forward in his seat, and puts on his best Roman impression. Which is pretty good, considering they're twin brothers.

"How are you today, my love?"

Immediately, Logan flushes bright red from head to toe, covering his face in his hands and squirms. Remus's cackling intensifies by a tenfold, and the other two are poorly failing to contain their laughter.

"That's- That's- That's... N-not a nickname. Th-That's a p-pet name."

"Awww, but you're blushiiiing!" Remus squeals in amusement.

"Falsehood. N-no." Logan says, not enough bite in it to hold value. "We are going to move on now. That just... caught me off guard." He says, adjusting his tie several times, trying to compose himself. "The point is, his nicknames are stupid, and I don't like them- No, don't look at me like that Remus even that one- so it adds to his infuriating nature." Logan grabs the presentation button and clicks it aggressively to the next slide.

"And now, for my concluding point."

5. He is incredibly and willingly dumb.

Sometimes Logan thinks he wouldn't be surprised by the illogical things Roman would say. And then he gets proven incredibly wrong.

"Much like your... 'illogical feelings', mayhaps?" Janus drawls.

Shush, Logan is talking.

Granted, both Creativity twins have proven to be rather illogical, as they are embodiments of creativity, a force that knows only slight bounds to logic. Only with a defying mind can people push boundaries in the advancement of society. That doesn't mean however that those defying minds need to be intelligent.

"I believe Virgil specifically had called Roman a.." He takes out his special cards, flipping through them. " 'A Himbo'. Judging from his past and present behaviors and from the definition itself, it is safe to assume that yes, he is in fact a Himbo."

One instance he can remember is during a picnic in the imagination. It was Patton's birthday, and Roman wanted to do something special, so he set up a picnic for them all to attend. Logan doesn't enjoy visiting the imagination as much, as when he's there, things become more realistic and that makes him feel like a burden. Regardless, it was for Patton's birthday, and so he decided it would be polite to come along.

Everyone was guided by a trail of flowers to an opening in the forest, where a giant picnic blanket was laid out, pillows thrown around, and a large picnic basket stood in the center. There were many balloons of pastel pink and blue tied around, and the birds were chirping in a joint melody. It sounds almost like Happy Birthday.

Logan, as he approaches, hopes that his influence won't cause ants to emerge, because although that would be realistic, it would also be quite the nuisance.

He and the other's are just dressed in their usual attire, but as Roman emerges from the trees, he is wearing a shiny red party hat to go along with his prince outfit.

Roman immediately goes to serenading Patton and placing a party hat on top of his head, light blue with a little pompom on the top. He ushers him to sit on one of the largest pillows, and then goes around giving everyone else party hats. Logan stills when Roman gets to him last, a dark blue party hat with little stars in his hand.

"Do I have to wear that?" He asks. Although, sure, it does look nice, he doesn't want to seem ridiculous.

"Come on, you're in good company. Please? For Patton?" Roman bats his eyelashes at Logan, who sighs and lets him put the party hat onto his head.

Roman runs off to the birthday boy, and they all sit down. The time passes peacefully, songs being sung and Roman releasing a horde of puppies to the joy of the guests. By the time the food is out, everything seems to be going well, until they're all eating, and Roman pulls out an orange. As he's about to peel it, Logan speaks up.

"Roman, I would advise against that." Which may sound ridiculous to most people, but Logan is an expert on many logical things. ( Orange peels have a flammable liquid in them called limonene, and as both it and a balloon, made of latex, are non-polar, the liquid can dissolve the balloon, thus causing it to explode.)

"Against what?" Roman asks, but he does stop his attempt.

Logan adjusts his glasses, ready to explain. "Eating an orange near a balloon. As I cause the imagination to become more logical, doing so will most likely cause-"

"Oh puh-lease! I'm sure whatever wacky science things you're going to say don't actually work here! I mean, there is plenty of influence to go arou-" Roman, the spiteful side he is, gets even closer to the balloon, starting to peel it. Lo-and-behold, he can't finish his denying before the balloon right beside him explodes with a loud POP. The sound sends him jumping back in fear, screeching to the nine hells, and then falling backwards onto another balloon, scaring him again. Several sides laughed out loud at his pain, while Patton watched him, worried. Logan smiled internally at the karma, before getting up and making sure he was okay.

Roman did spend the rest of the party in a sulky mood, but the party was still a huge success. They had some good food, and while Logan made Patton a flower crown, he fed him forfulls of cake. It was a nice bonding moment. When everyone separated to return to the mindscape, Roman waved them all off from the imagination door. Logan turns back to look at him, but Roman makes no move to follow them all out.

"You're not coming back yet?" Logan asks, adjusting his glasses.

Roman sighs. "No, not yet. I'm afraid this dashing prince has a little bit of cleaning to do. And perhaps an adventure. You never know." He leans on the doorframe, smiling.

"Well, that is correct. I in fact do not know what you'll be doing." Logan nods to himself. "Do you need any help cleaning? I doubt I'll be much help with the adventure, but I do have hands." He gestures to his hands.

Roman looks quite surprised. "Oh, thanks for the offer, specs. I think I've got it all covered though."

Logan offers a hesitant smile. "Alright then. Let me know if that changes."

Roman quickly smiles back, a faint pink dusting his cheeks, and turns back into the imagination and shutting the door. Logan stands there for a moment, but not sure why. It's clear that Roman was not feeling all that great from the balloon moment. Even Logan, terrible at deciphering emotions, can tell that much. Perhaps he needs to let off some steam.

He just can't understand Roman most of the time. They do have so many similarities, being too proud for their own good, but it's almost like they're in two separate worlds. Logan, the learner he is, wishes he could explore Roman's own. Understand it. Understand him, and his way of thinking. Even though Roman is mostly dumb, he does make good points, and Logan tries to prioritize his input, as it's usually what Thomas is hoping and dreaming for as well.

~~~

The last slide shines back at them all. A concluding statement that makes the three watching sides snicker a little bit.

"And I believe he just doesn't understand how much we all think he's great. I swear, he's just so dense! It's so aggravating! How can he not tell that he's worth everything? Why doesn't he understand that we all care for him? That I care for him? He's wonderful, for god's sake! And that I don't mean to hurt him with my critiques. I want him to thrive! I-"

Everything stops. Logan takes a moment of silence. The three sides look at him, each with different degrees of anticipation. One looks pretty much ready to pounce out of his seat.

"...Oh."

And all at once, everything gets strung back into motion. Confetti literally falls from the ceiling as Remus jumps for joy, circling a very mortified looking Logan. Janus, the tired soul, rolls his eyes and lets out a slow, long clap. Virgil just rests his head in his arms.

"I can't believe this. You sit us all down for a presentation you probably double-checked and proofread, like a nerd, and only NOW you realize you were wrong all along? Why didn't you say anything, snake-face?" Virgil complains, sitting up just to glare at him.

"Wo-ow, it isn't as if I was saying that this whole time? No, it couldn't be." Janus deadpans, sarcasm spilling from his mouth like an old, worn, broken dam.

Logan doesn't move from his stand-still spot beside the projector, but Remus manages to bounce in circles around him, cooing. "Lo-lo's got a cruuuush! A crushy crush! A crushed crust of a crush! A crevice cracking ‘cause of the crushed crust-" He was going to continue, throwing expired banana peels around to substitute rose petals, until the sound of the door opening catches everyone's attention.

"Hey losers, Patton wanted to know if you-" Lo and behold, Roman walks in, regal as ever, smiling until he takes in the sight before him. The boring classroom look, contrasted by the amount of confetti that stopped falling as soon as he walked in. Janus and Virgil, wide-eyed and looking at him, completely still. Remus, caught mid dance, frozen in place with a smile. Logan, looking at him in the way one may look milliseconds after being caught stealing government secrets. Roman's eyes flicker to each of them, before settling on the projector.

"Roman. I-I can explain-" Logan starts, but Roman is already reading the words on the screen.

"... 'In short, he saddles me with unnecessary... feelings'? 'Unease, and uncertainty'? Who... Oh my god! Logan!" Roman looks at him, smiling in disbelief and amazement. "I know what this meanssss!" Filled with giddy delight, he sidesteps the table.

Logan gulps as Roman approaches, turning beet red as Roman takes his hands in his two own. "Y-Yes?" He practically squeaks as Roman looks him right in the eyes.

"Yes! Ohhh, this is so exciting!" The three bystanders watch, once again in anticipation, as Roman swings their interlocked hands.

"Yes?" Logan offers a small, tentative smile.

"You have a crush on someoooone! Oh Logan, you should've told me!" Roman smiles, completely oblivious to the internal facepalm of several present members.

"I-I'm sorry..." Logan looks down, slightly disappointed but still too flustered to say anything.

"God save the dense." Janus mutters, inspecting his gloves fingers.

"Don't be sorry! Come, we must make plans! I shall be your matchmaker! This is going to be perfeeeect!" Roman, sings, dancing out of the room and dragging Logan along by their still intertwined hands. The other sides watch them go.

After a moment of processing, Virgil sighs. "Well, I thought that was going to be resolved. Turns out they're both as dense as... dense people." He can't seem to think of any other similes.

"Welp, I'm just happy that they're one step closer to getting. it. on. romantically." Remus punctuates every word with some rather immature hand gestures. “And that they stop dancing around each other.”

"Who do you think Roman thinks Logan has a crush on?" Virgil asks, cogs turning in his brain.

Janus lounges backwards. "Well, let's see... Soooo many options. Either he thinks it's someone outside of Thomas's head, or the simple answer..."

Remus and Virgil both look at him, both with looks of realization.

"Patton."

~~~

[lilfellasblog]

Tolerable

Summary: Virgil's been accepted by Thomas and the famILY, even after they found out his secret. But will this be too much for them to handle? Or: Virgil has endometriosis, thinks he has to hide it, and that works out as well for him as you think it will.

A/N: If you liked this, please reblog. It is the only way to help this fic reach a wider audience.

TW: Past bullying and harassment mentioned, endometriosis, menstruation, this is a sick!fic, painful cramps, unsympathetic dark sides.

Word Count: 2351

AO3 here!

Fic Masterlist here!

Virgil groaned and curled into himself. Not for the first time, he cursed the Mindscape’s sick sense of humor for not only making him the only trans Side, but also for giving him the period from hell. After researching his symptoms and checking in the Subconscious (he tried not to think about how he could see everything in there), he had discovered he had endometriosis. It certainly explained what he’d been experiencing. He didn’t even want to think about the number of tampons and pads he burned through. Alternating ibuprofen and acetaminophen could only take the edge off so much. The websites he visited suggested some, ahem, all-natural pain remedies, but Virgil was the opposite of in the mood when he was on his period. He felt tired and dizzy and light-headed and nauseous, and he always seemed to get migraines at the same time of his period because apparently God hated him personally.

He ground a fist into his lower abdomen during a particularly painful cramp that felt like his internal organs were ripping each other in half, and kept it there until the pain subsided somewhat. He wasn’t sure why, but pressing his knuckles into the spot where he felt the most pain seemed to help lessen the severity of that particular wave.

Virgil sighed, trying to figure out if he wanted to ask the others for help. He was exhausted, having dealt with this for a day already on his own. They’d all accepted him, including Thomas (thank fuck), but he didn’t know if they wanted to deal with everything that came with him being a trans guy. Yet, now that they knew, even though he’s dealt with this on his own before, being alone feels even harder.

What if they’re grossed out? They weren’t grossed out by me being trans, they seemed sad whenever I had even asked, but this is… yeah. I don’t know, I don’t want to push it. Just as he finished that thought, an excruciating pain ripped through him. He bit his knuckle and held his breath to keep from crying out.

“Virgil? You okay in there buddy? You missed breakfast, so I brought some up if you want any,” Patton offered through the door.

Virgil had to breathe through his nose to battle his nausea at the thought of breakfast food. “Thanks Pat. I’m good, just not feeling too well. I’ll be fine in a bit.” It’ll be manageable in a few days.

“Oh honey, I’m sorry to hear that! Is there anything I can do? Would soup help?”

Actually… “Yeah, I think I might be able to handle soup.”

“One bowl of soup, coming right up!”

“Thanks Pat.”

“Anytime!”

Despite his pain, Virgil smiled fondly. He’s too good for me. Before, if he’d shown any indication that he was on his period, the consequences would be more pain, some kind of humiliation, and a nightmare sequence courtesy of Remus that always lasted so long he’d bleed over.

Virgil rode out the waves of pain, unable to concentrate enough to follow Buzzfeed Unsolved, until Patton knocked on his door again.

“Virge? I have your soup,” Patton called quietly.

“Alri-” Virgil’s voice cut off as he was bowled over by a powerful tearing sensation that left him seeing stars.

“Virgil? You okay in there? Are you hurt?” Patton called, much more loudly this time.

Shitshitshit, I can’t let him see me, he’ll know I’m in pain and he’ll ask why and then I’ll have to tell him.

“I’m worried you’re hurt or unconscious, can you answer me?”

Virgil took a few deep breaths. “I’m here,” he croaked out.

“Oh honey, you sound like you’re in so much pain! Are you okay?!”

Since he wasn’t holding his breath, a pained keen left him against his will.

“I’m coming in.”

Fuck.

Virgil tried to uncurl his body, but he couldn’t find the willpower to counter the pain. As soon as Patton caught sight of him, he quickly set the bowl of soup (with crackers and cheese, Virgil noticed) on the nightstand and rushed over.

“It’s okay, I’m here. What’s wrong? You look and sound like you’re in so much pain!”

The worst of it passed, and Virgil managed to relax his body a bit. “I’m okay, I’m… kind of used to it.”

Patton’s expression darkened. “Did they hurt you again?” he asked, voice nearly a growl.

“No, nothing like that!” Virgil quickly promised. Patton sagged in relief.

“Thank goodness.” Patton frowned. “This has happened before? Do you have a stomach bug?”

Virgil thought about lying for a brief moment, but was too scared of accidentally summoning Janus to risk it. “No…”

He cursed when Patton’s puppy dog eyes came in full-force. “Is it something bad?”

Just as Virgil was about to hedge around the answer, he felt a telltale dampness. “Uh, nothing dangerous for us since we’re Sides, but I do need to go to the bathroom.”

Patton immediately scooted aside. “Okay! I’ll be here when you get back,” he reassured.

Shit. “Thanks.”

Virgil uncurled himself from his position on the bed, then carefully made his way to the bathroom. He cleaned himself up since he had bled over a bit, changed out his pad and tampon. Just as he was about to flush away the bloody water and toilet paper, there was urgent knocking at the door.

“Virgil, are you okay?!”

Virgil was a little annoyed, but knew to rein himself in. “Yeah Pat, I’m good, just about to wash my hands.”

“Sweetie, are you sure? There’s blood on the bed.”

OH FUCK.

“Um, I’ll be out a in a minute.”

Think think think think THINK!! Okay, what can I tell him? I could just fudge the truth a little bit, but that might be too close to a lie. I could just tell him I don’t want to tell him, but he’d be so sad that I don’t trust him and he deserves better than that. Shiiiiiiiiiiit.

Realizing he’d been staring into space, he dried his hands, then went out to face the music.

Patton was studying the comforter that had gotten stained, and looked up and smiled at Virgil as he emerged. “Hey Virge, I was just gonna wash this for you, is that okay?”

Virgil could feel another wave coming on. “Yeah, but you don’t have to.” Let me lie down so I don’t double over in front of you.

Patton waved him off. “Nonsense, you’re sick and I wanna help!”

SHIT. “Okay, I can help get it off.”

“Sure!”

Virgil frantically tugged at the comforter, while Patton calmly gathered it up in his arms. As soon as the comforter was off the bed, Virgil laid down and curled up, hopefully in a way that made it look like he was just lying down.

“Virgil, can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer!”

Virgil assessed Patton. Patton was looking nervous himself, biting his lip and eyes averting themselves.

“Yeah, go ahead.”

Patton took a deep breath. “Well, I know you’re in a lot of pain, you’re not feeling well, you said it’s happened before, and there’s blood that you don’t seem too worried about.” He fidgeted uncomfortably, trying to figure out how to ask. “Is there anything I can do to help with… this?”

Virgil sighed. Of course he’d figure it out. “Honestly, the soup is more than what I usually get-”

“What?!” Patton cried.

Oops.

“Um, usually I just kinda deal with it on my own?”

Virgil kicked himself for the devastated look on Patton’s face. “Oh Virge…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind dealing with it by myself!”

“I know, but you shouldn’t have to! And you don’t have to anymore!” Patton declared. “You’re in so much pain, is that normal? Is there anything we can do to help?”

“Normal for me, yeah, and I don’t think so.”

“Normal for you? Why just you, are you in more pain than other people who get periods?”

Way to put it on the nose Patton. “I-”

“What’s this regarding?” Logan asked as he walked in.

Patton didn’t close the door, shit!! “Nothing!”

“Patton seemed to be implying that you’re in a great deal of pain-”

“WHO DARES HARM YOU?!” Roman thundered, sword already drawn.

GODAMMIT. “NO ONE. Okay, Jesus Christ. Look, I’m fine, I’ve just got the period from hell. I’m sorry you guys found out, I didn’t mean to, I’m fine dealing with this on my own, I know it’s weird and-” Virgil cut himself off at the sorrowful looks he was getting. He sighed. These guys aren’t the Dark Sides, they probably don’t think it’s weird and gross and something I’m doing to them on purpose. “Sorry. Just, I have this thing that makes this harder, I can’t think of the name because I can’t think during this, and I’m fine. I’m just miserable for a week and then it’s manageable. This is better treatment than I usually get, and now I can at least get food. Just ignore me.” Virgil cursed God as another devastating cramp chose that specific moment to be an asshole. He held his breath, but couldn’t stop from curling in on himself. Concerned Patton noises could be heard, and Logan was trying to encourage Virgil to breathe. Roman just stood there, feeling helpless.

Once it passed, Virgil unclenched and took a few breaths. “Sorry,” he panted.

“Please do not apologize. Average menstrual cramps-” Virgil winced. “-have been shown to be at a similar pain level as a heart attack, and it sounds like you experience more severe cramping. If you wish to be left alone, then we will respect that,” Logan stated, agreements coming from each of the other Sides. “But there is still the concern of unusual pain. Do you require pain medication?”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, it helps me not lose my mind, but it can only do so much. I’m on the max dose for ibuprofen and tylenol right now, and I’m alternating them.”

Logan frowned. “This is your pain level even with medication?”

Virgil shrugged. “Yeah, it’s this thing that starts with an “e”… shit, what is it…”

Logan’s eyebrows shot up. “Endometriosis?”

“Yeah!” Virgil squinted. “How the hell did you know that?”

“I’m Thomas’ center of knowledge. Gracious, Virgil…” Logan trailed off. “Has a TENS unit ever proven helpful?”

“A what?”

Logan straightened up. “A TENS unit administers small electrical pulses to pain points or trigger points via electrodes placed on the skin. Research, as well as personal anecdotes, have shown them to be effective in combating menstrual pain. Would you like me to conjure one for you?”

Whatever, worst thing that might happen is it could hurt worse for a few seconds. “Sure, why not.”

Logan closed his eyes, and a few seconds later a rectangular device with a bunch of wires coming out of it appeared. “Would you like me to apply the electrodes, or would you like to?”

The thought of someone touching his bare skin, especially where he was in so much pain, still scared him, even though he knew these weren’t the Dark Sides. “I can put it on.”

No one said anything as Virgil rolled over to his side and placed the electrodes where Logan instructed. He turned back over, blushing slightly and feeling weird. He could feel another bad one coming on, and he hoped that this would work. Logan handed Virgil the unit.

“There are a few levels of electricity. Since this is your first time, it’s recommended you start at 1 and see if you need to increase from there.”

Before the next bastard cramp could come to do its damage, Virgil just nodded and turned on the device, bracing himself for electrocution pain. Instead, the cramps was… not as bad? It still hurt like a motherfucker, but it wasn’t as godawful as it could be. He cranked it up a few more dials, and the pain dimmed to a level he couldn’t remember ever feeling.

His eyes widened as he uncurled and sat up, jaw slack. The pain was still there, and he could still tell that his muscles were freaking the fuck out, but the pain was down so much he could almost ignore it.

So Logan just made my life about a thousand times better. How do I let him know?

“What kind of bullshit wizard magic is this?” Nice, REAL kind of you to say after Logan literally changed your life.

Logan just did his proud little smirk of his and drew his shoulders back. “No magic involved, merely science, and,” he adjusted one side of his glasses. “logic.”

Virgil sighed, still light-headed and dizzy, but the amount of relief that flooded his body without the pain was helping him feel so much better.

Logan frowned. “If you’ll excuse me, Thomas requires my help with a business e-mail.”

Virgil looked out through Thomas’ eyes and Sanders what the HELL. “Yeah, you’d better go deal with that.”

Patton waved his hand over the bowl of soup to warm it. “Is there anything else I can get you?”

Virgil fidgeted. “Not to be a stereotype, but I’m currently willing to commit homicide for chocolate.”

In the next moment, Virgil found his lap full of his favorite dark chocolate-sea salt-almond bars.

“I should probably go too, make sure Thomathy gets the tone of the e-mail right,” Patton said regretfully.

Virgil waved him off. “No worries, go do your thing.”

“I’ll keep our brave knight company!” Roman declared.

Patton said goodbye and sank out. Roman and Virgil stared at each other.

Roman broke first. “Soooo, friendo…”

Virgil sighed, putting Roman out of his misery. “I don’t usually feel like being a people, but this TENS unit thing is really helping. I’d be down to play some video games after lunch.”

“Sounds wonderful! I’ll get the game set up!” Roman sank out with his usual flair.

Virgil snorted and shook his head. Thank god for TENS units.

He flushed as he thought to himself, Thank god for famILY.

[onlydreamofmysoul]

The Prince and The Pornstars

Chapter Three

Okay guys! This is a super special chapter because we’re featuring the amazing art by my S.A anon. This is the costume Leo wears in this chapter and I’ve said it a million times but oh my god, this art absolutely blows me away.

Characters by @lumosinlove​

Leo 

“Hey um, Leo? You’re Leo right?”

Leo looked up to see the cute new fluffer standing in the open doorway of his dressing room. “Yeah,” He said, standing and offering his hand, “That’s me.”

Finn smiled and shook his hand. “Celeste sent me - I have your costume for today.”

Leo took the hanger from him, eyeing the leather skirt and very few accessories. “Huh, I don’t see why they’re bothering to give me clothes at all.” He joked with a wink and delighted in the way Finn flushed. Logan had been right - this boy was very innocent. 

“I’m also supposed to ask that you be in the makeup department in twenty minutes.”

Leo smiled, a little charmed by how nervous Finn was. “Cool thank you! Do you mind waiting for a minute? I nearly always have a costume I can’t tie up myself and then I end up stranded.” He chuckled, remembering the intricate ties on a costume he had two months ago and having to slip into Logan’s room to have him tie it up. 

 Finn nodded and shut the door, standing awkwardly. Leo raised an eyebrow. “You can sit down, you know.”

“Oh right, thank you. Um, do you want me to look away.”

Leo laughed again. “Finn sweetheart, you’re working as my fluffer today, I think I’m okay with you seeing my dick.” He paused, smiling to himself as he pulled off his shirt. “Thanks for asking though, that was nice.”

Finn nodded, fiddling with the lace of Leo’s shoes which were still in his hands. “So how does one become a pornstar?” He blurted, then flushed an even deeper red. “Sorry, I don’t know if that’s like something I’m meant to ask or not? I was just curious because like obviously pornstars exist but you generally don’t just bump into one on the street so like… how did you end up here?”

Leo glanced up at him as he pulled on the black fishnets. “A guy I used to date actually. Well he used to do adult movies and I was his date to a work event and I met some agents and well,” He shrugged, “Here I am.”

“Oh.” Finn said. “So you do just bump into them on the street.”

Leo laughed, surprising himself. “Yeah, I suppose you do.” He wiggled into the leather skirt, noting the way Finn looked anywhere in the room except at him. “So how does one become a fluffer?”

It was Finn’s turn to raise his eyebrows. “Apparently you need to be a fluffer here before they let you, you know, actually do any makeup. They really did not prep me for this in school.”

“Well I mean, we have plenty of school boy outfits lying around, so if you want to pop one on I’m sure we can re-educate you.” Leo teased and was pleased to see a real smile appear on Finn’s face. Leo took the shoes from Finn, realising that this costume had needed no assistance.

“Oops, sorry.” Leo said, “I suppose I could manage this one after all.”

Finn watched him lace up the heeled, holographic boots. “That’s alright, it was fun talking to you.”

Leo smiled again, then held his hands out to Finn. “Okay help me up please cause oh my god these are so high.” Finn stood up and took Leo’s hands, carefully pulling the blond boy to his feet. In the heels, Leo towered over Finn. Leo stumbled a little and steadied himself with his palm on Finn’s chest. 

“Oh sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve worn heels this high wow.”

Finn laughed a little, seeming more relaxed now that he wasn’t the only one falling around like an idiot. “You’re okay.” He told Leo, moving his hand away from Leo’s waist where he had caught him and Leo felt a strange sense of loss at the movement. “I haven’t been able to get out two sentences here yet without blushing, so really, I think you’re winning.”

Leo chuckled with him as they both left the room to head down to the makeup department. Anywhere else and Leo would have been acutely aware that he was shirtless and wearing a dog collar but here it was nothing. There were people who worked on all different levels so you saw a nice mix of people in full suits right down to Leo in next to nothing. 

“So do you like working here?” Leo found himself asking, knowing their world must seem so strange to an outsider. Leo remembered the feeling but it was dulled a little now that he was so accustomed to it. 

Finn shrugged. “Am I allowed to like it? I never know what to say I mean like if I say I like my job it insinuates that I like jacking guys off which might make me seem a little creepy.”

Leo laughed properly at that as they turned the corner and he was just looking over to Finn when Leo collided with someone. 

“I’m so sor- Oh hey Lo.”

Logan, still in his jeans and jumper peered up at him. “As if you weren’t tall enough already Nutty.”

Leo rolled his eyes, stooping a bit to press a quick kiss to Logan’s lips. “Fuck off Tremblay, you know you love it.” 

Logan just snorted as he pulled away. “Hey Red.” He paused, staring at Finn’s Finding Nemo t-shirt. “Or maybe I should call ‘Fish’ from now on.”

Finn wrinkled his nose. “Please don’t.”

Leo groaned, tilting his head back as Logan’s eyes lit up. “You’ve done it now Finn,” Leo said “He might not call you anything else for the rest of your life.”

“I could call him ‘poisson’.” Logan interjected. 

“Baby do not call him poisson.”

“Mon poisson rouge.”

Leo sighed and looked at Finn apologetically. “He’s gonna call you a red fish forever now.”

Finn ran his fingers through his hair self consciously even as he smiled. “I suppose there are worse things to be called?”

“Ha!” Logan cried victorious. He kissed Finn on the cheek and then Leo on the lips. “He agrees with me. Mon poisson rouge it is.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Now go away cause we need to get to makeup and you’re making us late.”

“Just tell Celeste you were with me. She loves me.” Logan boasted, walking backwards away from them. 

“Oi, she loves me too!” Leo argued. 

“Both of you are dumb. Obviously we blame me. Celeste may not love me yet but I’m new and people are always nicer when you’re new.”

Logan and Leo stopped and looked at Finn. 

“Damn poisson.” Logan muttered. “You’re good. We might just have to keep you around.”

Leo loved getting his makeup done. Sure, taking it off was a bitch, but he loved the feeling of the brushes and products decorating his face, it was soothing. 

“So, you and Logan are together?” 

Leo went to open his eyes but Celeste tutted disapprovingly so he kept them closed. “Yeah, yeah we are.”

“Oh, cool, that’s cool.”

Leo dared a peek at Finn while Celeste rustled around in her makeup bag sensing there was something the redhead wasn’t saying. “You can ask questions you know.”

Leo’s eyes were closed again, but he knew Finn was blushing. “Is it not weird working together?”

Leo hummed thoughtfully, he and Logan got asked this a lot as soon as people found out what they did for a living. “Like in a jealous way? Because no. I love him and he loves me and we’re both secure enough in our relationship to trust that. I mean what we do here is just a job, it’s hard for a lot of people to understand because our society indoctrinates us to believe people in a relationship belong to one another and while he’s mine and I’m his, we’re also our own.” Leo paused, laughing a little self consciously. “If that makes any sense.”

Celeste moved on to Leo’s lips, so he opened his eyes to see Finn nodding along. “I get that. I think I meant more like - doing scenes together? Is that not weird?”

Leo blinked, pleasantly surprised that Finn didn’t assume that he and Logan were some possessive primal creatures. “Oh, no, we don’t do scenes together.”

Celeste hushed him for a moment as she lined his lips. Finn watched what she was doing carefully and Leo was painfully aware that Finn was now staring at his lips. 

Celeste moved on, dusting his collarbones with glitter and Leo started talking again. “Me and Lo, it’s for us. It’s not something anyone else gets to see.”

Celeste met his eyes and smiled knowingly. Finn just nodded, lips parted a little. Leo felt something he couldn’t fully explain twist in his heart and somewhere in the back of his mind there was this acute feeling he had never had before. There’s something missing. 

“Alright boys, off you go.” Celeste said, running her eyes over her handiwork appreciatively. “You’re due on set in five.”

Finn and Leo strolled side by side down to the set they were using today. This time, it was a room that had been created to look almost exactly like the red room in 50 Shades of Grey. Kasey, Leo’s partner for the day was already there, laughing with Dumo their director. 

Pascal grinned when he saw them walk in. “Leo! And who is this?”

Leo grinned and threw his arm casually over Finn’s shoulder. “This is our new fluffer, surely Celeste told you about him.”

Pascal’s eyes lit up in recognition. “Ah yes of course, Finn oui? Welcome!” 

“Dumo is Celeste’s husband.” Leo muttered as everyone started getting set up. He took his place in a throne-like chair in the middle of the room just as Dumo called two minutes to start. 

Leo looked up at Finn and swallowed. “So um, I kind of need you to uh…”

“Get you started?” Finn finished with a smirk and finally, he wasn’t the one blushing. Leo bit his lip and nodded. 

“Yeah, if that’s okay?”

“Of course it’s okay. So um, what do you want me to do?”

“Just-” Leo reached out and took Finn’s hand, guiding it under the skirt. “Just like this.” 

Finn took initiative this time and took Leo’s cock in his hand, trying to control his face as he realised the sheer size of the boy in front of him. Leo’s cock filled quickly as he stroked him, and Leo noticed Finn watching carefully to see what worked best. When he was fully hard, Finn paused. 

“Is this okay or should I keep going?”

Leo blinked, coming out of the little haze Finn put him in. “No, no that’s fine, thank you.”

Finn smiled and moved away as Kasey walked up, already naked. 

“Okay is everyone ready?” Dumo called, watching everyone nod their assent.  “Yes? Okay good, and action!” 

“I don’t remember giving you permission to sit there.” Kasey growled, walking over and tipping Leo’s chin up with a single finger. 

“I’m sorry Daddy, I’m such a naughty boy.” Leo blinked innocently. “Maybe you should punish me.”

Kasey pulled Leo out of the chair, sat down himself and then tugged Leo on top of him in one smooth movement. Leo had known it was coming but it was still a little dizzying. 

“Look at you all dressed up for Daddy.” Kasey purred, rubbing his hands up Leo’s thighs and cupping his bare ass. “I think I know the perfect punishment.”

“Okay freeze!” Dumo yelled and Kasey and Leo stayed exactly where they were as the camera’s paused. Leo saw Dumo go to Finn out of the corner of his eye and then Finn was walking up to Leo. 

“Hey Leo? I’m going to prep you now if that’s okay?”

Leo laughed at the absurdity of the situation. This was totally normal for him, but the strangeness of the whole thing wasn't lost on him. 

“Yeah Finn, go ahead.”

Kasey grinned up at Leo. “Why do we always have to do the Daddy scenes?”

Leo groaned as he heard Finn popping the cap of the lube. “I know right! It’s always so weird for me cause like damn I haven’t got daddy issues.”

“Okay Leo, I’m gonna start now.” Finn said and Leo nodded, then gasped as Finn pressed a finger inside him. Leo dropped his head on Kasey’s shoulder and tried so hard not to react even though every cell in his body screamed for more. 

For a guy who was new to this, Finn really seemed to know what he was doing. After he had slotted three fingers in comfortably, Leo nodded and Finn was handed a cloth to wipe his hand off before he moved away to go wash up. 

When everyone was back in position, Dumo called action again. 

“I think I know the perfect punishment.” Kasey repeated and then he pulled Leo down right onto his cock. 

Leo gasped in shock, acting as if he had no idea what had been coming. He rode Kasey for a while, and they changed positions a couple of times until they were done. He went straight to the shower, letting the warm water wash over him for a minute and his mind slipped to Finn. Then to Logan. Then to Finn.

He couldn’t stop thinking about the way Finn’s fingers felt inside him. Somehow it made Leo think of Logan. Their technique was in no way similar and Leo had no idea what it was, all he knew is he wanted Logan to feel it too. Or to feel them both. Was that crazy?

He got dressed quickly, towel drying his hair. He had taken off most of his makeup before the shower but some mascara had clung to his lashes and now he looked like a panda so he was carefully wiping away the black smudges when Logan came in.

“Salut mon coeur, c’est juste moi.”

“Hey Lo, I’ll be out in a minute.”

Leo heard Logan flop down on the couch as he turned on the tap to splash water on his face and wipe away the makeup-remover. He heard the door open again and figured it was Logan going to get something from his own room when he heard the murmur of voices. 

He came out of the bathroom to see Finn sitting next to Logan on the couch and something in Leo’s heart stuttered at the sight.

“Hey guys.” He said, smiling weakly. Logan looked at him, a little in concern, but only because he knew Leo so well. Finn grinned, a little awkwardly.

“I was just bringing this up to you,” He said, holding out Leo’s own eyeliner. His skin was sensitive and he only used one brand, so he always brought it himself just to make sure there would be no mix up. 

“Oh,” He heard himself mutter dumbly. “Thanks.”

He took the pencil from Finn, their fingers brushing as they did but Leo moved away quickly, putting the eyeliner in his backpack. Leo slid onto Logan’s lap, noticing the way Finn tensed as if he was just about to get up, but Logan held out his hand, showing them something he had pulled up on his screen.

“Oh my god, have you seen this post by Sidney Crosby?”

Leo half fell in his haste to look at it while Finn froze. “You guys like hockey?”

Logan smirked, leaning over to ruffle Finn’s hair. “Oh mon poisson rouge, you have so much to learn.” He patted the space on the cushions left between himself and Finn and Finn moved to fill it, his thigh pressed right up against Logan’s as he peered into the phone screen.

“We love hockey.”