#pastry chef virgil

[tagsecretsanta]

From @janetm74

From @janetm74 to @thedryswan

Scott Tracy/Jane Carter and Virgil Tracy/Zoey Kwark

Prompt chosen: Disastrous Double Date

Note: There is no canon name for Professor Kwark so I have chosen to use the name that is most often used fanon, thanks to The Dry Swan - Zoey

~

Getting time off as the Commander of iR and the CEO of TI was difficult at the best of times. Getting time off with his brother, Virgil, as the second most used operative on rescues, was even more difficult.

Throw in two girlfriends, one of which was a pilot and the other the owner of her own successful aeronautics company, who also had very busy and demanding schedules, and getting such time off together was almost impossible.

Thank goodness John was such a great multitasker. Somehow he had managed to not only arrange for Scott and Virgil to have time off but to ensure it coincided with Jane and Zoey too.

John had gone one step further. He’d arranged a double date for them. There had been much good-natured ribbing over this, but it was water off a duck’s back. And when the two brothers saw where John had booked they soon were thanking John and cuffing their younger brothers for the ribbing.

Borgo Santandrea was stunning, both in location and in looks. The hotel was built into a cliff face, a beautiful white building atop supports dug directly out of the cliff and surrounded by scrubland and trees with the cliff continuing to tower over it while also having a private beach and a direct path down into the crystal blue waters.

John had booked them a suite for the night, with some spa treatments if they wanted to partake of them and dinner in the Marinella Restaurant, on the balcony with views over the Tyrrhenian Sea and the gulf of Salerno.

It also helped that this was one area that International Rescue had not attended for any rescues, despite it being near quite an active earthquake zone and near several inactive volcanos and one semi-active one.

They flew out in Tracy One, timing their arrival to coincide with breakfast, which started with them mixing with the chefs while they cooked whatever the guests desired. There were crepes, French toast, pastries, omelettes, charcuterie and cheeses as well as salads, oils and tiny piles of salts.

They chose a wide selection of miniature pastries and the local Roman Breakfast Cakes, and took them to the beach bar along with small cups of cappuccino. The sweet cakes were delicious.

Afterwards they strolled along the white sands and kicked up the surf for quite a while before returning to the hotel for spa treatments and rest. While Jane and Zoey relaxed with full-body massages Scott and Virgil propped at the bar, helping themselves to the complimentary Biscotteria with freshly made lemonade that used the locally grown Amalfi lemons.

It didn’t take Virgil long to migrate to the piano and soon Scott was drifting to the soft sounds of gentle jazz. Jane slipping into the seat beside him barely woke him, but he pulled her close and buried his face in her hair. It smelt so good. Zoey sat on the other side of Scott, and a waiter brought over more lemonade and a selection from the Biscotteria.

The afternoon passed so pleasantly that none of them wanted to move upstairs and get ready for dinner, but eventually the four made their way up to the suite John had booked for them.

The suite was luxurious even by their standards, with its own private garden and infinity pool with views over the sea, and Scott made a mental note to recommend this place to Gordon. He was sure Penny would love it here too.

Scott and Virgil’s suits were Liverano & Liverano, an Italian bespoke tailor that had been going for 500 years. Their suits were designed with them in mind, Scott’s being the darkest blue fabric and Virgil’s a green a few shades lighter than Scott’s. While Virgil favoured the traditional white shirt and a matching bow tie and waistcoat, Scott had decided to eschew tradition for a pale blue silk polo neck.

They elicited gasps of admiration from Jane and Zoey. Those gasps were reciprocated when Scott and Virgil saw the outfits that the girls were wearing.

Jane had dressed in blue to complement Scott. She wore an ankle-length pale blue georgette dress with a slight cowl neckline, fitted throughout and with a side slit that reached almost to the top of her thigh. It was sleeveless and whispered slightly as she moved, and the skirt swished over a pair of dangerously high gold strappy sandals. A fine gold lace shawl covered her bare arms.

Zoey had gone with a yukata. The traditional dress was a dark green close to Virgil’s suit, with the typical white and pale green hydrangea and minute sprays of pale pink cherry blossoms. The outfit was completed with a sash of the palest green and wooden sandals. Her short, bobbed hair was held back with a green band to match the base layer.

It was one of the few times Scott and Virgil didn’t mind wearing suits. They held out their elbows and their girlfriends took the proffered support and they made their way downstairs to the restaurant.

They were shown to their balcony seats. The sun was low on the horizon, painting the sky with hues of gold and pinks, reflecting off their drinks. The food was superb. There was some light music playing.

Scott leaned over and kissed Jane soundly. So soundly it felt like the Earth moved. And then he snorted. What a cheesy thing to think. He turned to say that to Jane when the Earth moved again.

Literally.

‘Scott! Virgil!’

‘John?’

‘We’re picking up tremors in your area. Are you guys alright?’

‘We’re…’

But Scott couldn’t finish what he was saying as this time the Earth moved so violently that people were screaming and he was scrabbling to stay on his feet. Scott took one look at Virgil and they hurried both girls and the other diners into the hotel for safety.

And then, with a roar of noise so loud they couldn’t hear John screaming from their watches, the cliff behind the hotel came rushing down on them.

John kept trying Scott and Virgil while sounding the emergency alarm. Gordon and Alan raced into the lounge closely followed by Kayo and Penny, who was visiting while iR were two operatives down.

‘John? What it is?’

‘It’s Scott and Virgil. There’s been an earthquake and a landslide over the hotel and I can’t raise them!’

They didn’t waste any time getting into Two and flying out. As they flew Gordon asked John if there was any news, but there wasn’t, there hadn’t been any contact.

From base to Italy was around 11,600 miles. Even at Two’s top airspeed it would still take them an hour and half to get there. It was the longest journey of their lives. Gordon was hard put not to push Two harder. Virgil might have been able to coax more out of his ‘bird, but Gordon didn’t have the confidence to do so and guarantee Two would stay safe.

They were twenty minutes out when they finally got some good news.

Getting people off the balcony didn’t prove to be too difficult once the floor buckled, and everyone rushed into the main restaurant. As people milled around Scott realised that the majority didn’t have a clue and he knew there was very little time. So, supported by Virgil, he climbed onto a table and bellowed.

‘STOP!’

Miraculously everyone stopped and looked at him.

‘Under the tables, NOW! You – get your staff out of the kitchen, it’s going to be too dangerous in there.’

Scott had one of those voices that people just listened to, and everyone hurried to do as they had been told. It wasn’t a moment too soon as seconds later the hotel was hit by rocks, and the four of them, hugging around the base of a large round table, watched as boulders of all sizes decimated the balcony they had been on less than a minute earlier.

It wasn’t long before the rocks and the earth quaking tore the place apart, and pretty soon the restaurant was buried.

Virgil wasn’t sure how long he’d been unconscious but he was the first to wake up. He could barely move, but at least there was an air bubble that they could breathe in, even if there was lots of dust in the air.

He blinked dust out of his eyes while he took stock. The large tabletop had saved their lives, there was no doubt about that, the lump he could feel on the back of his head was testimony to that.

Zoey groaned in his arms and he looked her over as best as he could in the limited space. There was a small trickle of blood down the side of her head but that was all he could see. Beside her was Jane, still unconscious and with her head on Zoey’s shoulder.

Of Scott there was no sign. Virgil attempted to twist so he could find his brother, but they were packed in tight, with rubble all around them. Of course, Scott would have been on the outside, making sure everyone was safe. Virgil took a closer look at Jane and could see Scott’s hand on her shoulder.

Virgil set to wriggling his arm free in the hope that he could still contact John. It took some time, but eventually he pulled it out with a minimum of skin loss. His shirt and suit were ruined anyway but his watch was theoretically earthquake proof. But there was nothing. He gave it a shake and suddenly there was a grainy picture of John.

Even though John’s holo wasn’t as clear as usual Virgil could see the relief on his brother’s face. As he smiled Zoey decided to wake up, blinking in confusion before laying her head back on Virgil’s shoulder.

‘Virgil! Are you all ok?’

‘Stuck but I’m ok. Zoey’s just waking up, Jane’s still out of it. I don’t know about Scott, I can only see his hand on Jane’s shoulder. I can’t move enough to check further than that.’

‘The guys are on their way, Virgil. They’ll be there in around 20 minutes. Sit tight.’

‘FAB, John.’

Virgil chuckled quietly at John’s parting words. That was a Gordon-worthy pun if ever he’d heard one.

‘Hey, Virgil?’

‘Zoey! How are you feeling?’

‘Like I just got trampled all over.’

‘You took a knock to the head, hun. Probably got a bit of concussion.’

‘Oh. Well, that explains a lot. Jane? Scott?’

‘Jane’s leaning on your other shoulder. I’m not sure about Scott.’

‘Rescue on its way?’

‘Yeah. The boys will be here soon.’

‘Oh good. Coz this date started so well but now it’s a disaster.’

‘Literally!’

They both laughed, grimacing when the dust caught their throats and they ended up coughing. The movements jostled Jane awake, much to their relief.

‘Can you girls stay awake?’

‘Uh huh.’

‘I – I think so. Virgil? Where’s Scott?’

‘I haven’t been able to rouse him. Jane, his hand is still on your shoulder. Can you feel him around you?’

Jane felt for the hand and slid her fingers up to the wrist. She sighed when she found a pulse before moving her hand to be holding Scott’s loosely. She gave his fingers a light squeeze but got no response.

‘I got a pulse but no reaction. He’s still out of it.’

‘That’s great. Keep squeezing his hand periodically. Judging from the amount of debris around us that whole cliff must have collapsed on top of the hotel. John?’

‘I’m here, Virgil.’

‘We’re pretty packed in here. I’m gonna see if there’s anyone else conscious and if we can start clearing a way out. Let us know if there are any more aftershocks.’

‘FAB, Virgil. Be careful and please keep the comm open.’

‘Of course.’

John relayed the news that he’d been in contact with Virgil and immediately everyone relaxed a fraction. Only a fraction though. Earthquakes were the worst of the disasters International Rescue attended. None of them liked earthquakes due to the unpredictable nature, but up until now they had never had any of their own caught in one.

By the time Two arrived there was no sign there had ever been a hotel in the cliff face. All there was was a wide path of rubble stretching down into the sea. The previously 300-foot-tall cliff was around half that, with a gap where the hotel was that was almost as wide.

The earthquake had its epicentre at nearby Tovere. Reports had placed it at a 5.7 on the Richter scale, almost double the strength that the area’s previous earthquakes had been, but with the centre in the sparsely populated area above the Amalfi coast the hotel had taken the brunt of the land movement.

Nearby Naples had also felt the quake, but the damage there was far less, and local services along with the local branches of the GDF declaring that they could deal with that damage and those areas around Tovere so International Rescue was free to concentrate on the hotel and the surrounding areas along the coast.

Alan gasped at the devastation, but Gordon was made of sterner stuff and kept his thoughts to himself. He felt Penny’s hand tighten on his shoulder and he smiled grimly at her.

‘John? We’re here. Directions? Is there anywhere safe to land Two?’

‘I have a landing site in mind a little further down the coast at Conca dei Marini. You should land on route SS163. It’s not ideal but there’s little around that is big enough that hasn’t been damaged by the quake.’

‘It’s great, John. Wouldn’t want Virgil to have cause to complain about me scratching his ‘bird.’

‘Alan, Penny, I suggest you take the mole pods. I know that there are usually only two chassis in Module 2 but Brains has packed a spare one for this mission so Kayo you can take the dozer and Gordon, someone needs to stay with Two and keep the infirmary ready.’

‘FAB, John. Alan, Penny, you want to go get your pods configured while I land.’

‘FAB, Gordon.’

As soon as Gordon had landed John showed a map of the surrounding coastline. Borgo Santandrea wasn’t the only place hit by the landslide although it was by far the worst. They were thankful that there was only a couple of places around the hotel that had buildings, the majority of the area was trees all the way down to the coast.

There were a couple of beach coves to the left of the hotel that had buildings, but the landslide seemed to have missed them. But there was the beach club house directly below the hotel and a large restaurant to the right of the hotel.

‘John? Any life signs in the club house and restaurant on the beach below the hotel?’

‘The beach house was closed; I’m reading no life signs there. The restaurant had not long opened but they had only a few customers and it appears they managed to make it to safety as there is radio chatter from the local ambulance saying they have picked them up.’

‘That’s great, John! So we can concentrate on the hotel?’

‘Yeah. Hotel registration and restaurant lists state there were 45 people in the building plus about 80 staff.’

‘Do – do the life signs agree with that number?’

‘Negative. EOS is currently reading 96 life signs, mostly registering around where the restaurant was.’

‘Well, that sucks but at least we have a point to start. Tell Virgil we’re on our way.’

‘FAB, Gordon. I have the local ambulance service on their way They’re sending three ambulances. Good luck.’

Meanwhile, Virgil was making inroads into moving the debris around them. He’d shouted for anyone else awake and received some groans in reply. He’d needed to twist awkwardly but the debris was thankfully not very compacted and with a little effort Virgil managed to get some space to move. It wasn’t easy, and judging from the grunts and swearing from other parts of the restaurant other people were also trying to dig themselves free.

As soon as there was space for Virgil to back out enough Zoey followed suit, and between them they shifted dirt and rocks so that they could get to Scott. As Virgil had feared Scott had placed himself on the outside of their group and a larger boulder had landed on Scott’s upper back and head, pushing him off of Virgil and Zoey. The angle of his shoulder and other arm told Virgil that at least that shoulder had been dislocated. But his pulse was strong, and they dug out an area that would be big enough to lay Scott down carefully.

By the time they had achieved that Jane had become more conscious, and she sat beside her boyfriend while Virgil and Zoey began to make their way to the next nearest table. They had barely reached it when the welcome sounds of a mole pod began to be heard.

Alan took the most direct route down to the restaurant while Penny and Kayo made sure that there were no life signs higher up. By the time Alan had cleared through enough to exit the mole Virgil had reached the other table and Penny and Kayo were just breaking through.

The first thing that Alan did was to give Virgil a quick hug before his older brother directed him to look after Scott while the rest of them set to rescuing everyone else.

Before attempting to move him Alan ran the Medscanner over Scott. As expected there were several yellow alerts for severe bruising and cuts and red alerts for concussion and a skull fracture as well as a fractured shoulder and two breaks in that arm. But his back and neck were in the clear and Alan sighed in relief. He and Jane carefully rolled him onto a hover stretcher and, using the hole the mole had made, the pair took Scott to the surface.

Jane took over Scott’s stretcher, giving the ambulance that had arrived a rundown of his injuries, and they were both whisked away despite Jane’s protests. But then the paramedic wiped blood from her face and Jane realised that she was also hurt.

‘Gordon, Scott and Jane are on their way to the hospital. Virgil’s sending the injured out and they’ll need Two’s infirmary. The three buses are not going to be enough, almost everyone is injured in some way.’

‘FAB, John. I’m ready.’

‘Penny’s heading back to you to help. She’ll bring Zoey with her.’

‘Is Zoey hurt?’

‘Yeah, slight concussion but she’ll be okay.’

‘FAB, John.’

Then began a steady stream of rescuees. It took Gordon, Penny and Zoey to keep up with treating everyone. No one was surprised to see Virgil as the last person in. By that time Virgil stumbled into Two there was standing room only, so Gordon ushered his brother into the cockpit. It took a firm hand to push him into the co-pilot seat but Virgil understood he was in no fit state to fly.

Gordon saw to his head wound while Kayo flew them to the nearby hospital De Luca and Rossano as it was the closest unaffected one. They were inundated with patients and those with lesser injuries were transferred further up the coast to San Leonardo in Naples.

Deciding that keeping Scott, Jane, Zoey and Virgil together would be the best bet, the three lesser injured had already been treated and they were moved into one small Visitor’s Room and they began the wait for news of Scott and how the rescue was going.

John kept one eye on the rescue as the elevator dropped him close to the hospital. They’d worked through the night and in the early dawn light the rescue was wrapping up. Gordon would drop home and pick up Grandma. The GDF and local services were also finishing up the surrounding towns.

Joining Virgil, Zoey and Jane, John kept himself busy with making sure everyone injured was being treated, setting up a fund that made sure of that. He only stopped doing that when the rest of their family joined them.

There were careful hugs all round and they had only just begun to settle down into the chairs when the door opened again and a doctor appeared. Those able to immediately jumped up, and Grandma took the lead.

‘Good morning. I’m Doctor Marino and I’ve been treating Scott.’

‘Good morning, Dr. I’m Dr Tracy, Scott’s Grandmother. How is he?’

‘Well, he has a linear skull fracture, a broken shoulder blade and his humerus is broken in two places – a simple proximal fracture and shaft fracture around the middle part of the bone. None of his injuries require surgery, but we kept him under close observation for a couple of hours just to make sure there was no build-up of intracranial pressure or any blood clots forming. He’s being wheeled into a room and we will continue to monitor both these potential issues for another six hours.’

The doctor beamed as everyone sighed in relief before continuing.

‘The skull fracture will not need further treatment. Scott’s arm has been put into a light-weight plaster cast and tightly strapped to facilitate healing of both arm and shoulder, but with no further complications he’ll be free to go home once the monitoring is done.’

‘Prognosis?’

‘Six to eight weeks for the fractures to heal as is common. Only once they are healed will we know what kind of physio he’ll need.’

‘Thank you, Doctor.’

Sally shook hands with the doctor and a few minutes after they had left a nurse came to show them all to Scott’s room. The man himself was asleep, but despite how quiet everyone was trying to be he woke up, groggy and confused. Wisely they all retreated, leaving Virgil, Zoey and Jane to explain what had happened.

Once Scott understood he was going to be out of action for a minimum of six weeks Scott groaned loudly and began to try to get out of bed, but Jane’s hand on his good shoulder stopped him quicker than words could.

‘Love, this double date may have disastrous, but you’re good, I’m good. Virgil and Zoey are good. And we are all injured and not going anywhere. Maybe, once you’re given the all-clear to fly, we can go home and crash and have a normal double date with a takeaway and crappy movies and rest.’

Scott looked at his lover and his family and sat back in the bed.

‘Takeaway and crappy movie double date? I’m up for that. Virgil? Zoey? You up for that too?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Sounds good.’

Scott kissed Jane’s hand, his eyes twinkling.

‘Only if we can have a Top Gun marathon.’

[bookishcatcafe]

about me

24 yr old gay white male. English major, with a teaching degree.

currently: a barista and loving it.

prior: pastry chef, teacher/substitute teacher.

also:

a writer (poet), playwright, movie enthusiast, did I mention gay?, cat dad, agnostic, baker, kinda a cook, and a utter fan of all things Andrei Tarkovsky, Chet Baker, and the wonderfully talented Glenn Gould (among other stuffs).

favorite anime: cowboy bebop, beastars, forest of piano, hunter x hunter, soul eater, FLCL, DoroheDoro

favorite books: Maurice by em forester, war and peace by Tolstoy, crime and punishment by dostoyevsky, time within time by andrei Tarkovsky, the poems of arseny tarkovsky, divine comedia and La vita nuova by Dante, the sonnets of Petrarch, the poems of Rimbaud, Tennyson, Yeats, Elliot (specifically four quartets and the wasteland), Blake, Virgil, and Whitman to name a few, call me by your name and it’s sequel find me, a single man by Isherwood, ….the list is endless damnit.

fav artists: Glenn Gould, Satie, Chet baker, Rufus wainwright, David Keenan, Bach, Mozart, Beethoven, Chopin, and miles davis

hmm what else…fav food? Breakfast food.

fav show: twin peaks, helluva/hazbin, Portlandia, sex and the city, and the sopranos to name a few

can’t think of anything else atm.

[rosesisupposes]

Do It For Us

Sequel to Do It For Him

word count: 5,881

pairing: Royality, background Analogical

warnings: Some mentions of poverty, forced ending of friendships, Deceit Is A Bit Of A Dick, mention of arranged/forced marriage, but mostly Quite A Lot of Fluff

reader tags: @residentanchor​ @royally-anxious​ @bewarethegrammarpolice​ @jemthebookworm​ @arandompasserby​  @sparkly-rainbow-salt​ @astral-eclipse​​ @thelowlysatsuma​ @adorably-angsty​

And, of course, happy birthday month to Royality Queen @notveryglittery and a million thanks to my beta reader and platonic wife @mariniacipher

I had so much fun with the previous fluff, and then @xxxbladeangelxxx inspired me to give the sunshine gays a sequel <3

Read on ao3

Sun glinted and flashed over the metallic staccato of swords clashing against each other. Grunts of efforts mixed with heavy breathing, as two men squared off in the castle courtyard. One feinted to his right then brought his blade in a flashing arc to his left, but his opponent saw through the ruse and blocked easily before retaliating with a snake-like thrust, laying his blade on the other’s neck. The man knelt, acknowledging defeat.

“I yield.”

“A good match, Ian!”

The kneeling man smiled, shaking sweat-matted hair out of his eyes. “It’s kind of you to say, but we all know you’re just so gods-cursed fast, Sir Roman. All we can hope for is to hold our own.” The standing knight grinned, auburn hair only just barely dark at the edges from exertion. “That’s what training’s for, is it not? Learning how to beat me.”

Roman was stretching and chatting with other knights and soldiers in the training yard when he caught sight of a silent audience member to the early morning exercises.

He slipped over to the corner to greet his Prince, grabbing a damp towel on the way to wipe his face.

“Patton, dearest, what wakes you so early?”

The young heir to the throne grinned up impishly at the knight-captain of his guard. “A little birdie told me you practiced shirtless.”

None of his bravado and bluster was enough to prepare Roman for this. A blush immediately spread across his cheeks as his gaze dropped. He was the man primarily responsible for the kingdom’s heir, and he’d run his mother’s farm for years before beginning the rigorous knight training of the past decade and a half. Every inch of his body had been toned in service to the crown and the prince in front of him. And said prince was gazing besottedly at his muscled chest with a warmth that had nothing to do with lust. Or rather, almost nothing.

Pulling them both around the corner, out of view of the soldiers, Roman leaned down to kiss Patton softly. Patton smiled up into the kiss, feeling the heat of Roman’s continuing blush. He broke apart, letting the sensation linger, when suddenly he squeaked as Roman lifted him and spun him around.

“Who knew our sweet prince was so shallow?” he asked with a lopsided grin.

“Only my gaze is shallow: my love is deep,” the prince responded, giggling as he regained his footing. He kissed Roman’s cheek and delighted in the pink tinge that resumed there.

“Dear one, as much as I love to see you, I am starving. I’m on my way to the kitchens unless you need my protection now?”

Patton’s smile dropped for a moment before returning. “No, sweet. I would never keep you from your meals. I will be in my room.”

Growing up as a single child in a royal family meant a young Patton had to be rather creative when it came to making friends. An impressively strong sweet tooth combined with an ability to easily slip past his etiquette teacher led him to toddle down to the kitchens almost every other day. Puppy eyes earned him cookies from the maids and chefs unable to resist. It was after a successful mission, when he was sitting in his favorite alcove, munching on macarons, that he spotted another boy his age.

“Hey! Hello! Who are you?” he piped up happily, waving with his free hand. The other balanced his haul of violet cookies in his now-stained tunic.

The boy froze, eyes wide as he realized the comment had been indeed aimed at him.

“Me? ‘M no one.”

“Silly, no one is no one!” the little prince said cheerfully. “Do you wanna mac’ron?”

The boy approached shyly. “Yeah, that would be nice. They’re my fav’rite color too.”

Patton handed the dark-haired child one of the tiny sandwiches. Cautiously, the other bit into it.

“Oh! ‘S good!” he exclaimed, mouth full.

“What’s your name?”

“Um, Virgil. Virge.”

“I’m Patton! Hi!”

Virgil nearly dropped the remaining half of the cookie. “The prince?”

“Uh-huh! Here, do you want another?”

“I, uh, no, I can’t, they said I can’t talk to the prince or the king or the duke because I’m too little and shy, I don’t wanna be bad.”

“That’s silly,” the little prince said. He squinted at the other boy. He’d already decided that Virge was his new best friend - for the first time, an adult hand wasn’t immediately pulling him away from him. “Dada is very nice. An’ Lyle is silly. You won’t be bad for talking to them!”

Virgil swallowed, then ate more of the cookie. “You sure?”

“Of course!” Patton responded, beaming. “Do you wanna play with me?”

Every day, Virgil expected he’d see the last of the prince, that playing hide-and-seek with a scullery servant would lose its appeal. But instead, their friendship only grew as the years stretched on.

When they were ten, he’d snuck Patton out of the castle for the first time, checking behind him every second. But they’d made it into the city without detection. They’d played hopscotch with other children in the main square, helped a seamstress hold her fabric still, and found a mother cat giving birth to a litter of kittens. Not even discovering his allergy to the fluffy creatures had dampened the young royal’s spirits, and they’d snuck back into the castle high on success.

When they were fourteen, Patton had found Virgil hiding in the dark corner, trying to calm racing thoughts that wouldn’t shut up. Patton had held his hand, talking quietly, and gotten him to start listing what he could see and feel. Virgil had confessed that he’d never tried those strategies before. Patton had hugged him tight to make up for all the times he hadn’t been there.

Roman had put a shirt on, at last, to go find food after training. Following his nose, he spied jam tarts cooling on the counter and slipped into the kitchen through the back door. Cautiously, he went to take a treat, only to get his hand slapped by a mixing spoon. Virgil’s glare made him smile sheepishly.

“Just one?”

“If you want to explain to the full Noble’s Council why their pastry tray isn’t perfectly arranged, then yes, you may have ‘just one,’” the pastry chef complained. “You know we have regular food down here, too.”

Roman sighed dramatically. “But without pastries, how will I survive? How will I live? I beg of you, take pity on me!”

“Then beg,” Virgil responded flatly. Then he made the mistake of making eye contact with the knight and snorted, falling into true laughter. “I’m making regular jam cookies later, Ro. Come back in the afternoon, I’ll keep some on the side for you. These are just the nice ones, kay?”

Roman grinned. “This is why you’re the coulis-t person I know, Virge.”

Virgil groaned in response. “I never should have taught you proper pastry terms. Talyn has some sliced ham and rolls in the next room, go beg from them, alright? I need to finish decorating.”

The knight gave a small mock of a bow and obeyed.

He and Virgil hadn’t always been so friendly. As a young man arriving to the castle for knight training, he’d haunted the kitchens every waking moment. The idea of a full belly was still exciting to a boy whose farm had struggled with droughts for almost half his life. But his sister and her husband had taken over the farm, and he’d been picked out for his strength to become a fighter.

He’d spent his first month in the castle sneaking into the storerooms at every given opportunity, eating anything he thought he could get away with. The kitchen helper, who was about his age, perhaps a year younger, had caught him first in the middle of the day, despite the lunch rush, then in the dead of night. How had he even been awake?

Roman was self-conscious of his hunger, surrounded by all that wealth, and lashed out at the creepy cookie who kept turning up when he least expected it.

But then, one quiet afternoon, he’d been sure the kitchens would be entirely empty. It was the rest period, so surely the safest time for a quick snack. Walking cautiously, he’d rounded the corner, only to see Virgil, covered in flour and butter stains as he carefully plaited a pie crust into a sheaf of wheat. The serenity of his concentration, the clear ease that came with no kitchen madness around him, and his proud smile as he successfully sealed his pastry forced Roman to see him in a new light. He’d cautiously come forward and complimented a job well done. One would think he’d actually seen a field of wheat, once!

The other man had nearly jumped out of his skin at first, but had then calmed enough to wave off the compliment with a smile. They’d had an actual conversation for the first time ever, and hundreds more soon followed. A strange friendship, perhaps, one that was tested every time Virgil made homemade jam for a treat that Roman wasn’t allowed to eat, but a strong friendship all the same.

Roman often wished he was able to show his love for Patton more openly, so that he could introduce the prince to the friends he’d made in the castle.

As he got into uniform to begin an official day as Patton’s protector, Roman spared a sigh for an old friend he’d yet to find here in the capital city. Growing up in a small farming community on the furthest borders of the kingdom, Roman had known only his siblings and parents until a new family moved into the plot next door. Their house burst with children, but there was one boy his age, one who viewed his very energetic siblings with a world-weary eye, even at seven years old.  But Roman, the youngest by a huge age gap, was lonely, and jumped at even a stick-in-the-mud as a potential playmate.

Their parents saw Logan and Roman’s friendship as oil and water, yelling matches during chores, long arguments that stretched through the harvest. But their clashes only showed how well-matched they were, how their competition forced them both to improve. Logan brought home books from the headwoman’s private library and introduced Roman to classics and plays, if only so they could immediately argue about the proper interpretation. More than one winter’s night found them in one of the barns with Roman leaping around a makeshift stage in an effort to prove how dramas were meant to be seen, not read.

But then, Logan left. The headwoman knew how much his parents struggled through the droughts with so many mouths to feed, and saw Logan’s innate brilliance. She found an opportunity for him to receive room and board in the capital city itself, and he’d be able to receive the best education Solarya had to offer. It was everything he could have wanted - except, he couldn’t bring his friend. Roman couldn’t leave his farm, anyway - his older brother was serving in the army, his sister had married and moved, and there was no one else to help his parents.

“Lo, I promise, someday I’ll come join you! You’ll see!”

“Roman, while I hope you’re correct, do not make promises you may never be able to keep. It is enough to say that we will try to reunite one day.”

They were standing at the gate, waiting for the coach that would take Logan and his few worldly possessions away, when Roman impulsively hugged the other boy. “I’ll miss you, Logan.”

The eleven-year-old stiffened, then hesitantly hugged back. “I… will miss you as well, Roman.”

Logan hadn’t expected the capital to be so overwhelming. Obviously there would be more people, but why was it so loud? Did more people in one space mean everyone needed to shout all the time? Even inside the castle, there was ambient sound everywhere. He didn’t find his first moment of peace until he was shown to the library. And the quiet of the room couldn’t compare to the symphony of excitement in his brain. Who knew there were so many books? So much knowledge to be unlocked! He was about to dive in when the closing door behind him caught his attention.

“Hello there!” a cheerful voice said in a very energetic library whisper. “You must be Logan!”

Turning, he caught sight of a jovial-looking man in the robes of a Royal University scholar. Round glasses balanced atop a long nose above a huge smile. “I’m Dr. Picani, your tutor. Do you how do?”

Logan stared. This man was not at all what he’d pictured as the most-respected professor in the kingdom. And what was that last sentence? He recognized all the words, but not in that order.

“Uh, hello?” he murmured back. “Yes, I’m Logan. I… sorry, you’re my tutor?”

“You betcha!” the happy man replied. “Not yours alone, of course. We’ll be sharing our time with one other student, who should arrive any second. Let’s go to the study room, shall we?”

He led the way to a small room that contained even more books in addition to a huge slate hung on the wall and two tables with a handful of chairs. Logan sat, still a bit dazed.

Barely a moment had passed before a rap sounded on the door. Dr. Picani opened it to reveal a huge soldier with a no-nonsense expression. “Dr. Picani. His Highness for his lessons.”

The professor nodded, and the soldier stepped aside to reveal a boy a bit younger than Logan. He had clean golden curls and wore a silk tunic. Logan was immediately uncomfortable. Sharing a class with a noble? Who’d probably be much smarter and resentful of sharing a class with a less-educated commoner? He looked down at the wood grain of the table, swallowing disappointment with the reality of what had appeared to be all his dreams coming true.

“Hiya!” a voice cut through. “I’m Patton, what’s your name?”

“Uh, Logan,” he replied, looking up once more.

“Nice to meet you Logan! I’ve never seen you in the castle before, are you new?”

“Yes, I just moved to the city.” Logan decided to not mention where he’d come from - better not give this noble any more reason to look down on him, no matter how strangely friendly he appeared to be. “I presume you’ve lived here for many years?”

“Since I was born! Not that I remember it exactly. Or really anything until I was three. Maybe I only moved here then? No but Dad says we’ve always been here so that’s probably right…”

Logan stared at the other young man as he happily chattered away. Was this what all nobles were like? The few who’d ridden through his hometown had barely made eye contact, let alone talked to commoners like normal people.

“Your Highness, maybe we better start the lesson?” Dr. Picani interjected with a smile.

Logan’s eyes grew huge in his face as he stared at the boy next to him. The guard had said it too - was this really the Prince of Solarya? Yes, Logan knew the Prince was named Patton, but it had become a very popular name in short order since the royal family chose it. The heir to the entire kingdom was grinning bashfully up at their shared tutor, practically still bouncing in his seat with anticipation.

The capital city was bizarre. But seeing the eager smiles on both his tutor’s and the prince’s faces, Logan realized he was probably going to have to get used to it.

As he neared his eighteenth birthday, Prince Patton was pulled into a small audience with his father and the vizier. Both men were stern.

“Prince Patton, why have you been neglecting your deportment classes?”

Patton winced - he’d hoped they wouldn’t notice. “Actually, Father, I have been using that time to learn more about my future kingdom and subjects-”

“You mean you’ve been spending excess time with your servants,” Duke Lyle cut in. Patton fell quiet, seeing his father’s frown deepen.

“Patton, you’re the crown prince; one day, you’ll be king. Our entire country’s fate will be in your hands. But the throne is only as strong as the respect our people have for it. If the prince himself doesn’t exercise proper decorum, doesn’t maintain the acceptable boundaries between liege and vassal, then no one will. Order will disintegrate, and every noble house in our realm will be affected. Now that you are coming of age, you must end these distractions, before another day passes.”

“But Father-”

“No buts, Prince Patton. My decision is final. If you cannot treat those who serve us in the proper manner, and insist on treating them as peers, I will be forced to dismiss them entirely.”

Patton felt tears brimming at the edge of his eyes. He was to lose his friends, then, no matter what he did. At the very least, he would not cost them their livelihoods.

“Very well, Father. I will do as you ask.”

Duke Lyle watched, eyes glittering in victory, as Patton left his father’s study and slowly trudged up the tower steps to his room.

Patton’s birthday arrived, and he was officially presented to the realm as the now-adult heir, no longer just the son of the king but now the official Crown Prince and king-to-be. He performed his role in the pageantry well, smiling and appearing solemn in the appropriate moments. He greeted dignitaries who brought well-wishes, he listened to subjects’ petitions as they appealed to his father, and he did his best to follow the deliberations of his father’s council of advisors. But under his polite mask, he was miserable.

Without his friends, he was alone in a world filled with adults who expected him to carry himself with all the dignity of a royal, yet did not listen to a single suggestion he made. Without the ability to visit Logan in the library, or Virgil in the kitchens, Patton’s days started to blend into one another as he was sent from meeting to audience to meal to meeting.

He begged his father to at least let him visit the city. “I won’t forget my position, Your Majesty. But I wish to be visible to them, at least. Please?”

King Thomas weighed his son with his eyes, then relented. “You may, then. But you’ll need a guard with you at all times.”

Patton deflated the slightest bit. “I suppose that would be most proper, wouldn’t it. One of the castle guards, then?”

Duke Lyle piped up, “Your Majesty, now that the Prince is of age, he ought to have a personal contingent of guards, shouldn’t he?”

The king nodded. “Indeed. There are a number of promising knights who might perform the job quite well.”

Patton was able to even smile naturally at both men. Having to keep the common folk at arm’s length wasn’t ideal, but at least he’d be able to talk to them. And having a knight-guardian would mean he’d at least have companion, if not a friend.

“Your Royal Highness,” Duke Lyle spoke up. “It has come to my and His Majesty’s attention that your silver jubilee is approaching.”

“My what?”

“You turn 25 this year, son,” the king answered. “When I was your age, I had been married a year, and you, my first child, had been born. It is time we look into marriage for you.”

“Father, Duke Lyle, I hardly think such a thing is necessary, not when Father is in such good health-”

“This is not just for the purpose of heirs and lineage, your Highness,” the vizier said smoothly. “Through your marriage, we can make an alliance, or settle tensions with noble houses in our realm or our neighbors’.”

Patton twisted hands in his tunic, hoping neither man noticed. How could he bear to marry another, when Roman’s love was all he wanted or sought? But they’d never approve, or allow such a thing.

“For instance,” the duke continued, his tone one of careful detachment, “the great house of Sanders has a son about your age. His parents are actively searching for an eligible match for him. And of course, they would never want to match him with someone entirely outside his preferences, just as we never would for you, Prince.”

“There are also some younger sons in neighboring kingdoms who could potentially make for a good alliance, but securing the support of House Sanders would be my preference,” the king added.

“I, uh, I thank you, your Majesty, your Grace. May I be excused to think on these options?”

“Of course, son. We will resume at another time.”

Patton walked outside quickly. Pushing through the door into the hall, he came face-to-face with Roman, who was smiling at him with that same gorgeous light in his eyes that always set the butterflies in his stomach a-flutter. But now the butterflies were sluggish and frail, disintegrating into a nauseating goo.

“Roman, can you come to my room? We need to talk,” Patton said. His normal smile quivered as he looked around the hall for observers.

“Of course, dearheart,” Roman said warmly, leading the way. He was so graceful in all his movements that Patton’s heart burned just to watch him walk away.

“Roman, my rose, it’s my father, and the vizier. They… want me to marry. A political marriage. One who just so happens to be Duke Lyle’s nephew. The young Baron Remington of House Sanders.”

Roman stiffened, then smiled sadly. “We knew it would come to this, did we not? We dared to love, knowing the impropriety of it, but we dared all the same. Sunshine, I would never interfere with your duty. I will always guard you, with my heart and my life, but if you must needs marry this noble, I will not stand in the way.”

“You wouldn’t resent it?”

“Would I pine and sorrow for my misfortune?” Roman asked, kissing Patton’s hand softly, then holding it against his own cheek. “Of course I will. I’ll curse my ill luck in being born common, cry fie upon the stars for separating us by our lineage. But I could never resent you, dearheart. Nor can I regret having the chance to have known you and loved you these past six years, not when I treasure each adoring glance and each kiss as dearly as I treasure my life. I only ask that you allow me to remain your vassal and guard, to hold you safe when I cannot hold you close.” Patton melted, hearing Roman’s rich, caramel-sweet voice speak such tender words of devotion. He leaned in to kiss the knight’s affectionate words while they lingered on his lips, and in that moment made a decision.

“Roman, I am to be king, am I not?”

“You’re already the king of my affections, but yes, you will be king of Solarya too, in time.”

“And the king’s rule of Solarya is absolute.”

“As it has been since the Sun herself named the first monarch, yes.”

Patton nodded. “If I’m to be the absolute ruler in the future, I can’t let anyone push me around with edicts that go against my heart and conscience.”

Roman caressed his prince’s cheek with a quizzical expression. “What do you mean?”

“I mean I won’t be coerced into marrying for politics when it necessitates a revolt against my affections. I will refuse to marry Baron Sanders.”

Roman felt his heart galloping in his chest as he met Patton’s shining, determined eyes.

“Patton, do you mean…?”

“Yes, my dear knight. Please, if you’ll have me…” He sank to one knee in front of Roman, keeping their hands clasped. “Sir Roman, will you marry me?”

Roman felt tears leaking out the edge of his eyes as he smiled so wide that his cheeks started to ache. “I will follow you to the ends of the earth, Prince Patton. I have been and always will be yours. Yes, I will marry you, dearest sweet.”

Patton found he was tearing up as well Roman pulled him up to stand with him. Brushing his cheek with light fingers, Patton kissed his now-fiancé thoroughly. As the kiss suddenly turned salty from spilled tears, both men started to giggle. Roman felt his breath catch in his chest, watching the afternoon sun catch Patton’s curls as he threw his head back to laugh. The knight pulled his prince back to him, tasting the sound of laughter on his love’s lips.

“Father. I am not going to marry the Baron. I will be marrying my guard, Sir Roman.” The king stared in shock as his son continued, doors still hanging open from him barging into the king’s private study. “I will be also inviting my old friends from within the castle to our wedding. You may rule as you wish while you continue on the throne, but my reign will not be so divided between classes.”

The vizier, in his customary place by the king’s side, found his voice. “Your Highness, this is all highly-”

“‘Highly improper’? Yes, your Grace, I’m sure it is. And I plan to do it all the same.”

“Your Majesty, you must intercede-”

King Thomas turned to face his chief advisor. “Lyle, you know I value your judgment and advice, but it’s true. Patton will determine his own ruling style. I won’t undermine it, through marriage or otherwise.”

The duke tried once more. “Perhaps, then, a small, private ceremony within the castle?”

“No, your Grace. I am not ashamed of my fiancé nor his status. It will be a full state wedding.”

And it was.

The day dawned bright and sparkling. Keepers of the royal dovecote prepared the white feathery creatures for the grand finale. Footmen laid yards and yards of carpet along the aisle and lined up the benches and chairs of the interior ceremony, while even more footmen and maids displayed bouquets down and out of the public audience doors where the rest of the crowd would watch.

In the office that had been taken over as the central location for the wedding planning, Patton knelt to be on eye level with his floral consultant. “Is everything in order?”

“Yup!” Val responded with a grin the displayed a missing front tooth.

“Even the crowns?”

“You don’t get to see them yet!” she responded, sticking out her tongue. “No peeking!”

Patton grinned and kissed her hand. “I’ll leave them in your capable hands then!” Standing, he exchanged a quick hug and kiss on the cheek with Teresa. He’d commissioned them to arrange every single flower for their celebration, with the full power of the royal treasury behind them. Looking around this room, still filled to bursting with lovely blooms and wreathed in a rich bouquet of scents, he knew he’d made the right choice.

He left and went through the kitchens.

There was Virgil, head pastry chef, forehead creased in concentration as he directed the last details of the grand wedding cake, as a helper delicately placed a sugar-spun rose on the top. The chef turned and caught the eye of the prince with a shy grin. Patton mirrored it and flung himself forward to hug the man.

“Thank you for forgiving me, Virgil.”

“Hey, it was royal duty and all that, right? Knowing you wanted us back, and to be part of your wedding - how could I say no? Even if it is to that lunkhead of a knight.”

“Excuse you!” Roman said, entering with an offended gasp.

Virgil smirked and hugged Roman as well. “Oh good, I didn’t want to talk about you behind your back. Always better to call you a simpleton to your face.”

Roman grinned. “I’d expect nothing more from my favorite marzi-pain. You’re going to be free for the ceremony, right?” He slipped his hand into Patton’s, still getting a tingle of excitement from being so open in front of others.

“Yes, I’m just finishing up here. Is L-, uh, is Logan getting pulled away from his books too?”

“We twisted his arm, or rather, Patton asked very kindly and possibly offered to increase the library budget. So yes.”

“Why, is there a reason you’d perhaps like our resident scholar to be present?” Patton asked in his blandest-possible court voice.

Virgil ducked his head in response and said nothing, but Roman and Patton made eye contact as they both noticed the tiny smile playing across their friend’s lips.

A servant popped his head through the kitchen door. “Your Highness! And Knight-Captain! Thank goodness. We’re getting close to the ceremony, we need to get you both ready!”

The fiancés squeezed their linked hands once more before following the servant out, waving to Virgil as they left.

Royal fanfare sounded as a string quartet began to play processional music. King Thomas stood at the altar as  Duke Lyle attempted to conceal his glower in his place at the king’s elbow. They looked with the rest of the audience as people from the city, the guard, and the castle turned in their seats. Two aisles curved on either side of the seating area.

As gentle tones played, young women strode down the carpeted aisles, sprinkling flower petals. One wore light pink and purple under a blonde updo, and the other in blue and white under a matching hairdo in light brunette. Patton and Roman emerged in their wake from separate entrances. Virgil and Logan, in matching slate-grey suits, accompanied each fiancé as they paced deliberately down the aisle. Roman wore a custom dress uniform, a beautiful work in red and white, accented with gold filigree. The seal of the ancient House of Solarya had been reworked into his own flattering colors. His auburn hair was perfectly curled and shone in the sunlight. But it was nothing compared to the blaze of his smile as he neared his beloved Prince.

Patton gripped Virgil’s elbow tight as he strove to keep his steps in time with the music. The prince had kept the pomp of his station for the ceremony itself, but when it came to his own person, his modesty shone through. He did not wear the silken doublet and hose of the royal family, nor the yards-long cloak. He had chosen to leave off even a modest tiara or circlet to show his rank. Instead, he dressed in the finery of his citizens: tailored long jacket and long pants in his signature light blue. In his lapel, a rose as red as cherries in summer was affixed proudly, mirroring the lovely sprig of hydrangea pinned to Roman’s sash.

At last, both journeys down the aisle were complete, as Roman and Patton came face-to-face at the aisle. Taking his hands, Patton smiled so wide his face was practically split in two. The musicians finished on a last sweet note as King Thomas stood forward to officiate.

“Ladies, lords, nonbinary nobility, and all our treasured friends of Solarya,” he spoke, his strong voice projecting out the open public doors to the waiting public beyond. “Thank you, one and all, for joining us on a day of such bliss for our family. Our son and heir, Prince Patton, means today to wed Sir Roman, Knight-Captain of the Castle Guard. We are beyond proud of our son, and bless this union wholeheartedly. They have prepared their own vows.” The king stepped back, bowing their head. Virgil, far too close to the current head of the nation for his comfort, was startled to spot the king wiping away a single happy tear that coursed down the royal cheek.

“Dearest Patton,” Roman began, clearing his throat. “Whether near or far, I am always yours. I was content to be your guardian from all the world. Now, I pledge to be your champion, protecting your person, your throne, and your heart. I will tell you each morning those qualities of yours that I’ve fallen in love with, and I will never run dry as I fall in love more each day. From now until forever, dear sweet. I love you.”

Logan watched his childhood friend glowing with adoration and found his normal distaste with sentiment had entirely vanished. Or perhaps it had curled up in his throat and was the reason he now felt almost close to tears. He surreptitiously sneaked a glance as his fellow groomsman and saw Virgil’s shining eyes grow soft in his face as he watched the gentle kiss Roman planted on his beloved’s hand.

Patton carefully wiped an eye underneath his glasses and took his turn to speak. “My precious Roman. I feel as if I have loved you for a thousand years, and yet I know I will love you for at least a thousand more. Glorious knight, your courage takes my breath away, and your ideals alight a fire in my mind and heart. I pledge to never again be your liege, but your partner, equal in every sense. You will be no royal consort, but my king as I will be yours. From now until forever: I love you.”

At the prince’s pronouncement, Virgil watched Roman’s eyes widen. He risked a look behind to see a similar level of shock in the king’s eyes, and something that looked like speechless indignation in the Duke’s. It seemed Patton hadn’t told any besides his best men of his plan to elevate Roman to full royal status, including his husband-to-be.

But Roman recovered as Patton elegantly bowed to kiss his hand in return, and Teresa, glorious in a coppery gown, stepped forward with a mahogany box. Virgil and Logan walked to meet her as she flipped open the top, revealing two flower crowns nestled in a velvet bed. Tiny red roses and individual blue hydrangea flowerheads created two circlets as the best men removed them and set them upon the grooms’ heads. Long silken ribbons in gold connected the two crowns to each other, allowing room for Roman and Patton to turned to face the crowd. As the audience caught sight, there was a gasp followed by a roar of approval and joy. The binding crowns, as they were called, were part of the age-old Solaryan commoner marriage ceremony. Only the most progressive or least-connected noble houses had adopted the tradition that almost every other citizen of the country practiced. But now the citizens of Solarya watched as their crown prince stood with his husband in the finery they themselves had worn on their wedding days. And the delicate crowns sat where soon would lie the two crowns of their future kings.

King Thomas was barely able to speak through his delighted tears, but managed to squeak out: “Husband and husband!”

Roman took the opportunity to dip his love deep and kiss the prince in full view of the entire kingdom as white doves took flight and celebratory bells began to peal, bright and loud. They’d done it, in spite of all. They’d defied, class, norms, and propriety to declare and affirm their love to all who cared to see. A new age of Solarya dawned on the horizon, as bright as their patron Sun and just as warm.

[teacupfulofstarshine]

👀 am hitting u up for details

logan is a marine biologist and virginia (virgil) is a speech therapist. they are girlfriends who live together in a litol two-story house near the atlantic, and they are Somft Women.

jan (janus) and poppy (patton) are married and they live in a suburban neighborhood purely so jan can fluant her Wife out of Spite. jan is a pastry chef and poppy is a teacher at the local high school; jan likes to show up to pta meetings with a thermos of alcohol and roast the karens. they can't kick her out because she is a member of the school board. sometimes remy tags along in solidarity because he also lives to cause Problems

rosie (roman) is mtf trans and remus is ftm trans. rosie constantly asserts that remus stole her gender in the womb. remus replies that it was his first instance of the cain instinct (although it was far from the last). they live together in an apartment. remus is a lawyer (a very good one) and rosie . . . i don't know what rosie does for a living yet. rosie is aro and remus is ace because i Said So.

[notveryglittery]

too much roman angst on my dash lately so have some fluff, you heathens. (and don’t ask about or add re//mus to this post) (this is all implied platonic but u can read them romo or qpr if u want)

roman and logan watching big hero 6 together like Every weekend bc 1) i mean, it's a great movie don't @ me, but also 2) bonding! time!!! rambling about all the cool inventions, and superheroes, and the combination of san francisco + tokyo, and what if big hero 6 was in the marvel cinematic universe bc technically bh6 is a marvel comic, and then from there, debates about which superhero is better - in all different categories like strength and power and costume and quips, and it's not even a One Day thing, it's the Whole Weekend, from fri afternoon - sun night, the living room is Off Limits unless you are prepared to be pulled into the whirlwind that is logince bh6 time

roman being The Absolute Best at pastry decorating (am i projecting? did i want to be a pastry chef at some point? maybe) and he always lingers in the kitchen while - surprise - virgil goes on baking sprees. it started as a Stress Baking thing for him but now it's genuinely just a "what strange flavors can i put together to make something delicious" and also "patton likes cookies, he works so hard, he deserves cookies, so i'll make him cookies" and also just, virgil and baked goods!! he makes So Much Bread. but anyway - roman having to constantly be swatted off the counters aka virgil's work space. but it's fine he guesses because roman really does make the prettiest frosting flowers and he molds fondant perfectly and by some miracle, he doesn't get edible glitter everywhere (even tho he wants to). and they gossip about cute boys while they dance around the kitchen around each other, never once in the other's way, perfectly in sync

roman has the biggest and best collection of blankets of them all. there are flimsy sheets, and thick quilts, and fluffy ones, and more breathable knitted ones, and basically his room is the place to go if you need to make a blanket/pillow fort. so obviously, he and patton have sleepovers a LOT. like, you'd be hard pressed to find either of them in their rooms, bc one of them is probably sleeping over in the other's. patton brings all of his plushies and by all i mean all, he has so many. he has every one that thomas has ever had growing up, and even random ones that they saw once in a claw machine and he wanted so he asked roman to make it for him. and they paint each other's nails and practice makeup and fall asleep giggling, doing the whole "*whispered* are you asleep" thing until eventually they are asleep bc it has to happen eventually lol

roman is really the Best Actor, we all know this, i will Not be taking criticism at this or any time, but y'know who he will readily agree as the Second Best? it's janus, obviously. and not to humble brag but that's partially because roman gave him those tips that one time - they tease and joke about this all the time. but just, running lines or practicing scenes together. and basically, putting on shows for the others like... All the time, in fact, but it's so endearing to see them so passionate and excited

when roman plans an adventure, he Plans An Adventure, and as such, the others all know what to look forward to when he announces a trip into the Fantasy Realm a whole two days early. so patton makes sure to pack his comfiest sweaters, and virgil brings extra tupperware of homemade granola bars, and logan has his favorite pens and notebooks for documenting the quest, and janus makes an agenda that they can at least try to follow to get the right amount of sleep and meals. and the Adventures are always a blast like without fail, roman manages to make it fun and new every time. and there's always something specifically for each of them to keep them involved and happy and it's wonderful

sometimes, thomas and roman stay up WAY too late coming up with video and story ideas. like, making content is one thing, but when the two of them just go wild on creating characters and plot twists and fantastic new worlds? it's always a miracle when logan and janus finally get them to bed. but thomas makes sure to always remind roman how important he is, and how much he matters to him (and also the others too), and that he is and always will be his hero!!

yes you CAN add to this post but ONLY if it is FLUFF and please no re//mus!!!! 

[lefaystrent]

Odd Jobs

Remus – Chiropractor

           “Listen to all of those pops. It’s like I’m breaking your bones!”

 Logan – Health Inspector

           “This restaurant has defied nearly all codes of health and safety. I’m shutting it down.”

 Deceit – Ghostwriter

           “Everyone’s so desperate to be liked, they’ll pay me for my words to do the lying for them.”

 Patton – Lifeguard

           “What did the ocean say to the beach? Nothing! It just waved!”

 Virgil – Bomb Technician

           “That’s the thing, I’m always scared. Might as well be me rather than someone else.”

 Roman – Pastry Chef

           “Some food you eat, but my food? You experience it.”

 Bonus!

 Remy – High School Band Director

           “So originally I was going to have you gremlins play ‘I Gotta Feeling’ by The Black Eyed Peas, but I heard there was a fight in the cafeteria, someone give me all the tea.”

 Emile – Animator

           “Everyone’s got a story to tell, even little blue alien experiments from foreign planets who just want to find a place where they can belong.”

 Thomas – IT

           “I don’t know what I’m doing. I just restart the computers and hope that fixes things.”

[greenninjagal-blog]

Sentence starters: 14, with Roman & Deceit??

Haha, long time, no write! We’re having a pretty poor time right now so I figured a little bit of Roceit would be in Order! Warning: I did not edit this in the slightest. 

Summary: Roman has always been a little curious, but the pastry chef definitely takes the cake on this one. 

Words: 3007

Quick Taglist:  @chelsvans @dwbh888 @glitchybina @faithfulcat111 @felicianoromano @harrypotternerdprincess @holliberries @jemthebookworm @killerfangirl3  @musical-nerd18 @never-end1ng-suffering @nonasficcollection @silverflame-wc @stricken-with-clairvoyancy @the-sunshine-dims @themagicheartmailman @themultishipperchild @thenaiads @treasureofpriam @vianadraws  

Read on Ao3 || My General Writing List || Prompt Page (it should also be stated that you don’t need to pick from this prompt page if you don’t want to. Just send me an idea and I’ll do my best :D)

The Point of This is....

“Here, Bite Down on this.” 

Roman has had a lot of weird first meetings. As a kid he liked to wander around the town meeting knew people, which, of course, drove his mother up a wall the first ninety or so times that she had glanced away from him for a second and he had disappeared completely on her. Roman was just a curious type of kid. The first time he had been confused by a couple of workers who were fixing an outlet behind one of the counters at his mothers favorite little shop, and he had just wanted to know what they were doing.

They had told him! Which had been cool. Did you know there were wires all in the walls?! He hadn’t even realized that his mom had been frantically looking for him until she had grabbed his arm in a frantic panic and asked if he was alright, and then don’t you dare wander off again! What if something had happened?! Roman! 

It had happened again anyway, the store clerk had been redressing a mannequin and it had been neat! Then window cleaner, then flower arranger from the flower shop, then the busker outside the Irish themed pub he wasn’t allowed to be near, then the sign flipper at the street corner who taught him to spin one of the smaller signs--

The point was that by the time Roman hit middle school he knew most of the “little people” by name, and they of course knew his. Roman knew that a lot of them called him by his full name because his mother used to scream it when he went missing,-- Roman Alexander Prince, if you don’t get back here right this instant-- but he learned a lot of cool things! 

He could arrange flowers, knew when and where the most dense foot traffic was, knew how to flip signs and draw attention. He could Macgyver his way through most electrical circuits, had the sewers under his town fully mentally mapped out, and knew that if you hit the vending machine behind the laundromat just right, you could get a free snickers bar. 

He liked learning knew things. And for the most part? People liked to teach him.

As he got older, he noticed just how heartbreaking that sort of thing was. When he held the ladder steady for the owner of the Mom-and-Pop grocer while the old man replaced the “N” of the sign, the man had casually mentioned that the last person who asked him how he was doing had been a family man who had stopped coming months ago.

Then the more he looked, the more he had seen it: the when he waved to the woman who worked the bakery her whole face had lit up like he had gifted her the world, when he bought the street performer a water they had almost broken down to tears right there on the street, when he had offered the man sitting alone at the park with his head in his hands a chance to pet his dog, the man had called him a “generous kid” and tossed him five dollars before he left considerably happier than he was when he arrived.

The point-- and yes, Roman did have a point-- the point of all of this, was that Roman liked people. He liked learning things, and he liked hearing the stories that people had to share.

He liked telling those stories.

Which would probably explain how he got here: Mindscape, the ever prestigious school for the gifted. Although “gifted” tended to be a relative term. Roman had met a lot more people here, all his age, who eyed him warily like his smile was something to be scared of.

(”It is!” Remus, his twin had cackled from across the table in the dining hall, as if they didn’t have the same exact face.)

Roman and Remus had gotten in together, both on accident: Remus had crafted an application for Roman, sent it in without Roman’s knowledge, and then hacked the School’s Admissions database and marked the application for acceptance. 

Things should have gone really bad, because Remus hadn’t known that the School President, Thomas Sanders, checks each and every application and when he noticed an application had skipped most of acceptance process he started digging.

Things should have gone really bad then. Like really bad. Like Remus ends up in jail and Roman has to change his name and move countries, really bad.

Instead Thomas Sanders, had sent them both acceptance letters, and Remus was required to work in the IT department without pay and take all the computer application classes. Somewhere in the middle of that Remus had struck up some sort of deal with the cyber defense team where the Mindscape’s tech department spent all school year building their best unhackable code, and in the summer Remus got to take anything and everything he learned that year and try to break it. 

Remus had been winning for two years now. Roman had seen the grown men reduced to tears the moment that Remus’s hands had started flying over the keyboard. 

Again, the point to this-- Roman had been at this boarding school for two years now, barreling his way through the journalism and creative writing classes like they were tissue paper walls. He’s met a lot of people his age, and he’s witnessed a lot of weird quirks about them.

Like how that kid in the library who likes to sleep on top of the bookcases, and Roman had witnessed getting swatted with a broom so many times. He was a gymnast and an acrobat and really freaking flexible-- and he had told Roman to fuck off when he had tried to learn anything more than that. 

Or like that artist who ran the yearbook club took pictures of everything. It had been pretty cute the way the puffball had insisted on taking pictures of the cracks on the side walk, the clouds in the sky, the rainbow made from the refraction of the light through the glass windows. They had called it “catching little pieces of happiness in everyday!” Which was much sweeter than Roman had been anticipating. “Oops! Sorry gotta go, kiddo!” They had said and then they had been gone taking more pictures before Roman could ask anything about them.

Or like that guy from his Civics class who had gotten way too competitive about the trivia game they had played in class. It wasn’t just trivia though: Roman had learned later that he apparently Logan Ackroyd, the Logan Ackroyd, who had won the American chess tournament for three year in a row now. Any game that Logan touched, reportedly, he won. Chess, Checkers, Othello, Jenga, even Tic-Tac-Toe, and he treated them each like a life or death situation.

The point is of this is everyone had a weird quirk about them.

Roman knew that, knows that.

Heck, even Roman had a weird quirk, which apparently was wandering the school halls after classes. And now that includes being dragged into one of those classrooms by the hoodie of his sweatshirt and then immediately having a fork of something shoved in his mouth.

“VIRGIL!” Another voice squawks, followed by a telltale click of a camera taking a photo, but okay, Roman is a little too busy choking on a fork to take in everything.

There is a hand on his back, and one on his chest, holding him surprisingly steady, while he basically dies-- and man, he did not think that he’d be dying at seventeen years old. Who knew that his mother would be right all those times she insisted that his habit of walking around aimlessly was gonna be the death of him? 

There are tears in his eyes by the time he manages an inhale, and someone takes the fork back out of his mouth. The hand on his back is rubbing soothing circles and his lungs flutter weakly, like a butterflies wings.

“Dude,” A voice says boredly. Roman squints up at his attacker-- because yes this was an attack and Roman will forever be scarred by it-- and vaguely recognizes the purple patched up hoodie for the library acrobat. “I said “Bite down on this”, not choke and die on the floor.”

Roman coughs to dislodge the last bit of whatever food just got shoved down his throat.

“Please ignore him,” A smooth voice says, a new voice, and one that sounds exactly like silk on Roman’s ears. “Are you okay?”

The new person, the man who is holding Roman, is, in a word, pretty. Actually, no wait, not pretty; he’s gorgeous. He’s beautiful. He’s Michelangelo’s David come to life, an angel straight from heaven, the God Apollo himself taking a quick break from driving his sun chariot to walk among the mortals--

“Virgil, what did you do!” The breathtaking stranger yelps.

“I didn’t do anything!” The acrobat shoots back, although he looks worried, “I just put the fork in his mouth! Oh shit, dude come on, please don’t tell me you’re allergic to something-- Dee what was in that? I can’t go to jail for killing someone! I just got here!”

There’s another click and a giggle and Roman blinks himself to enough awareness to realize that beside the three of them, there’s also that photography artist and the Logan Ackroyd in the room, also what looks like a cake with three slices cut out of it.

“You aren’t going to jail,” Logan says, although he’s playing on a Nintendo Switch and isn’t paying all that much attention to what’s going on.

“It just a cake,” Dee adds, almost desperately and Roman’s knees really do go weak at that. A pretty man? Using that tone to address Roman? Roman’s surprised he’s still conscious at all. “Are you allergic to eggs? What about Wheat? Milk?”

“Deep breath, kiddos!” The person with the camera suggests, and Roman knows immediately that they are 100% aware that his flushed cheeks and lack of breath are not from an allergy. They take another picture and Roman dies a little more on the inside. 

“Please...don’t let... my brother see that,” Roman coughs one more time, “I’m begging.” 

The artist just laughs and takes another picture.

“No allergies?” The god beside him says and Roman finds him looking absolutely anywhere but at him. 

“No allergies,” Roman confirms, “None at all. It’s all good. And you know I should be--”

“What did you think of it?” The acrobat interrupts. And when Roman just blinks he snaps, “The cake, Princey! Tell Dee that the cake was fine and he can stop banging his head on the table now.”

Roman chances a glance at the man holding him up, and yeah, he could see the faint red marks were he had obviously been hitting his head on something. Unfortunately, said man was also looking at Roman, looking for his answer to the question that was just asked of him and Roman has already forgotten what it was again. 

His eyes were different colors, and that totally reminded Roman of that week in the summer when he hung around the ophthalmologist just outside of town. Roman had looked at a lot of eyes, learned a lot about eyes in that time, but really there was something different about those ones. One was a brilliant bright brown, like hickory and the other was glistening gold. He looked like something straight from a fantasy. 

Roman’s fantasy.

“Hey,” The stranger says softly, “Are you okay, darling?”

And that’s the last thing Roman remembers. 

Because he fainted.

Because the gorgeous, beautiful, ethereal stranger called him “darling” and Roman’s weak gay heart promptly shut off.

He comes to again, just a few minutes later-- long enough that his head is throbbing and his lungs hurt a bit and mere idea of moving sounds exhausting. He’s comfortable just fine where he is.

On the floor.

With his head in the perfect strangers lap.

“There you are,” The man gives him a nervous smile that makes Roman’s mouth dry out. “Do you remember where you are?”

“Heaven?”

Roman has many regrets in his life. Like that time he thought that crawling down the manhole would be fun. Or the weekend he spent hanging out in the courthouse, which had turned out to be incredibly boring. Or that time he brought dog treats to the dog park and ended up get ambushed by like seven dogs at once and broke his arm.

But this....answering that, and immediately hearing that all too familiar cackle that can only belong to Remus? Yeah Roman rates that at the top of Roman’s Regrets.

The stranger bites his lip but he’s grinning all the same. “Apologies. When you fainted we, called the emergency contact on your phone.”

“Remus is not my emergency contact,” Roman grumbles and weakly shuffles his limbs to sit up.

Remus wheezes, from where he’s situated with an arm over the artist and the acrobat respectively. “Like-- Hell! I changed that months ago!” Remus grins, “I wasn’t gonna miss a chance to laugh at you while you get carted away in an ambulance! You only die once Ro! I wanna be there for it!”

“I should have consumed you in the womb.”

“Butcha didn’t!”

“The intention was there.” Roman sways, and he really doesn’t like the way the floor shifts like waves of an ocean.

“Pussy,” Remus tosses out, just for the sake of having the last word. He pulls his arms back from around the other two and fusses with the little artist’s hair. “Alright, brats! That’s my cue to drag my dumbass gay twin away before he faints again. But this was fun! Lets do it again! This time Dee can even let Roman actually fall and crack his head on the floor instead of catching him!”

Roman’s ears burn, and he peeks at Dee with a morbid mortification, “You caught me?”

“Well I was already, holding you up so it wasn’t as much as caught you as you...ah,” there’s a twitch of his lips, “as you fell for me.”

The noise Roman makes is not in any way, shape, or form flattering. 

Remus cackles again.

There’s a click and a giggle, “Sorry kiddo! That was just too good to pass up!” The artist bounces slightly. “You both should definitely come back though! We’d love to have the company!”

“No, we wouldn’t,” the acrobat interjects, and lets out a heavy breath when he’s elbowed by his friend. 

“Yes, we would!” The artist says. “And next time you can even have some of Dee’s pastries!”

“That’s not necessary,” The stranger says quickly, “They aren’t that good--”

“Will you stop lying!” the acrobat says, “You literally got into this prestigious ass school for your pastries, dumbass. They’re good. Accept it already! Geez!”

The stranger rubs his neck and then his cheek, before turning back to Roman. “Perhaps you can be the judge of that then? Darling?” 

Yeah, Roman’s knees are weak again, but he’s stubborn enough that he keeps standing. “I think I’d like that. Although, I can’t say I’m any kind of pastry expert.” 

“We all have our faults, I presume.”

Roman’s heart beats a little faster. “And admittedly I will be a little bit bias.”

“A little bit?”

“Only a smidge,” Roman reports, “I’ve heard that good company can affect the taste of food.”

“You intend to be in good company?”

“If it’s yours I’m sure it will be.”

“Who knew there was a smooth talker under that blush of yours?”

“If you think this was smooth you should see--

Remus claps his hands loudly enough to make the acrobat flinch and Logan in the corner curse in Korean. “Okay yes we get it: You both are gayyyyyy!” Remus exclaims, drawing it out just enough that Roman feels a bit of the Cain Instinct(tm) in him rise up. “But if neither of you are going to start undressing to give the rest of us a show, then we need to go!”

“Remus!” 

“I’m just saying!” Remus shrugs and then hooks an arm around Roman’s neck and pulls him towards the door, “Its not fair to the rest of us, if you keep being a tease!”

“I hope you step on a lego and fall into a pit of sharks.”

Remus messes with his hair, which seems to be his thing right now.

The others in the room call out their goodbyes, and Remus drags Roman away before he can get more than a sloppy wave. Its still embarrassing.

Actually everything that happened was embarrassing, from top to bottom, and there was absolutely no moment were it wasn’t completely mortifying. Not only did he choke on a piece of cake he didn’t even get to taste, but he gay panicked, and then gay fainted, and every second of it was recorded via camera snapshots. And late at night, when Roman is turning it over in his head and screaming into a pillow, he barely notices his phone flashing.

He’s already miserable, because they probably just invited him back to be nice, and he didn’t even know their names. And Remus was still laughing at him for everything, and everything just really sucked. He opens up his phone to check the message, ignoring the way the his screen burns his eyes.

There’s a text message. 

An actual text message.

Stole your number hope you dont mind

Roman can’t breath. The phone in his hand vibrates again.

Oh and your heart. I stole that too. this is a ransom demand.

$40,000 in cash. Or a date to the coffee shop in town.

pls?

this is Dee Ekans btw

The baker?

oh fuck pls tell me this is the right number

roman?

And Roman rolls over and presses his face into a pillow and screams. 

But really the point of all this is that Roman got the number of the cute guy. And maybe a date.

[fantasticfangirl21]

The Silver Spider: Patton Heart

Triggers: Abuse, neglect, running away, fire

Patton Heart:

Powers: nada

Meeting virgil/Logan: due to his job at the bakery patton has had run ins with Logan and virgil, their first date was at the bakery actually because Virgil lovesss the sweets they have there, (virgils got a major sweet tooth because i mean hello he got no sweets when he was living in a torture chamber) anyway so Logan on the other hand does not have much of a sweet tooth butttt is addicted to chocolate and that particular bakery fills their chocolates with jam *cough* crafters jam *cough* and so knowing this Logan chose that as their first date spot dangit i just went into the plot again, jezzz focus, anyway so yeah after that that was the only bakery that Logan and virgil went to, it also served coffee so they pretty much went Daily it was also a five min walk from Logans apartment so he and virgil would frequently go before school which was a ten min walk from the bakery (everything conveniently close because i wanted to cut on travel time lol)

Fire incident: Pattons apartment burned down due to a fire, he was saved by silver spider and the next day when Logan and virgil went for coffee (knowing his house had burned down) they offered for patton to live with them in the guest room, Logan also reasoned that their apartment was closer to pattons work than his was anyway, after some convincing he accepted so yay they then started living together yay!

Family: ABUSIVEEEE, Patton was an only child, he was raised to be a perfect only child in a perfect family, his parents made him believe that he can never not smile, sorry that’s a double negative, anyway if patton ever cried he would get beat pretty much, he could never be anything but happy ever, and he had to be a perfect child and always listen, not listening resulted in beatings, any emotion other than happy did too, so he’s basically brainwashed to think he is only happy, ive already written angst fanfic short about that and- yeah its when Logan and virgil first put the pieces together, basically due to their kindness at some point he cries in front of them but like he smiles while he’s crying and apologizes and when he’s finally done crying he asked them how they would punish him for being weak and- yeah Logan and virgil freaked out because he thought they would hurt him anyway continuing on!

Job: he works at a pastry shop, he has worked there for around two years, right out of high school, he left home and worked to raise money for college because he had run away, his parents didn’t want him to leave... ever so he had to run away from them, he wants to go into culinary arts and be a chef (virgil/Logan help him with finances later because they are good boyfriends)

Weaknesses/Fears: Loud noises (brings back traumatic memories) letting people down (he is like a hardcore people pleaser after his horrible parents)

Masterpost

[darth-does-stuff]

mothers day time pals 

time to procrastinate on my school work B)

ok so dee

the guy goes all out cause he loves his mother

im talking breakfast in bed, doing all of the chores, making dinner, and generally just making this the most luxurious day for his mom

also his moms name is Aurora cause i like it

dee’s mom always tries her best for dee, so dee decided to do a switchy switch

dee uses this day as an excuse to spoil his mother lmao

aurora is very thankful and very amused

just sees this dee zooming through the house, the most concentrated look on his face

also dee bleps when concentrated/focused i dont make the rules

logan

this day is,,,complicated for him

even on the weekend, his parents arent really at home as their work calls them in usually

his mother tries to stay home, but she has to go to work most of the time

so, when she is able to get home, logan tries to do nice things for her, but also just spend quality time with her cause he doesnt get to do that normally

so its a very chill atmosphere when she is able to stay home

(lo’s mom’s name is Harper Lee Cain cause i love it and his dad’s name is Peter Cain) 

when she isnt able to stay home, lo is honestly kinda sad

not for himself, tho thats part of the reason, but because the day is supposed to be all about harper, but she doesnt get it cause she has work

and he sees all of his friends having fun with their mom and its kinda hard for him

sometimes his friends invite them to hang out because everybody's mom loves everyone in the crew, even if they are chaotic, so thats nice

so,,,he has very mixed emotions about this day, to say the least

geez im only 2 people in and its already a long post im scared for how many tags imma have to put smh

Pat

he and his siblings (and his older sister if she is able to make it back home) always collaborate together to make it the best day for their mom

 (ok imma make a separate post for everybody's names for siblings and parents cause god there is a lot)

its like what dee does, but way more chaotic cause there are little kids and not everything is gonna go to plan lmao

their dad also helps and makes it more chaotic 

like, streamers, balloons, pastries, confetti e v e r y w h e r e, it looks like a birthday party threw up on the Aella household

10/10 very fun, v random, v nonsensical, and its great

Virgil

its actually pretty chill there

he, his dad, and his brother all collaborate ofc, but they know that she doesnt like surprises 

so like, some brownies, gifts, a card, they make dinner, and thats about it

just very chill in general

their mom appreciates it

Ro and Re

oh

oh god

they go over the top

like

very over the top

take pats and multiply it by 100 and your almost there

confetti ankle high, a baby babbling on confused in their crib, a giant card, more confetti, gifts galore, streamers, more confetti, a cake like 3 tiers

their mother is,,,so so tired

but also very grateful and amused lmao

while the twins and their dad just grin, very proud of themselves

*chef’s kiss*

[imaginapalminthemorning]

Study Me How to Please the Eye Indeed, Ch. 2

Ch. 1 here

Warnings: cursing

Introductions Pt. 2

Jesus, that kid is a lot, Janus grumbled as he readjusted himself on the tiny bed. Five minutes and he’s trying to get me to spill my whole life story.

It wasn’t even that great a story. Just your typical troubled child— bullied, outcast, problems with authority— the usual. Why did he care? And what’s so wrong with using a nickname? Lots of people go by nicknames. Why’d he have to call him out on that of all things?

Janus wondered if Remus’s story was much different. He certainly looked like a troubled kid. Leather jacket, ripped jeans, piercings everywhere. And that stupid mustache. He looked like he belonged in a strip club. Or a porno. What the hell was he doing here?

Oh, who am I to judge someone based on their appearance? Janus groaned and shoved his face into his pillow. I certainly wouldn’t know anything about that.

Don’t fall into old habits, Dee. You’re here to make a new start, remember? Clean slate. No mistakes. No judgment.

No lying.

Hell, that’s probably why he’s here too. A new start. Rude and annoying huh? Does he get that a lot? Hah. I fucking wonder why. Well, he won’t get that from me. We’ll keep each other in check. He’s sure to call me out on my bullshit; I’ll make sure to let him. Together we can start fresh.

But for now, I need to fucking sleep.

                                   *            *            *            *            *

It was well past dark when Janus heard the door open. Remus sauntered in and slammed the door behind him, causing Janus to flinch slightly. His head was still pounding, but he tried not to look too irritated.

“You were out late,” Janus said in as calm a tone as he could muster.

“Sorry, mom,” Remus mocked. He flopped down on his bed and let out a long sigh. He didn’t seem to be in the best of moods either. Janus decided not to push the issue, and went back to the book he was reading.

Remus watched Janus read for a while. “Did you get some sleep?” He finally asked.

“Some,” Janus replied.

“That’s good.” Remus turned his gaze back to the ceiling. Funny, he’d been so talkative earlier. What happened out there?

“What have you been up to?” Janus tried casually.

“Wandering the campus. Found the science building. It’s big.”

“Is that where your classes are gonna be?”

“Yep. Chem major,” Remus continued to speak to the ceiling. Janus wondered if this was payback for being so defensive earlier.

“What about you? What are you majoring in?”

“Philosophy.”

“Oh dope. That’s tough shit. You must be pretty smart.”

“I could say the same thing about a chemistry major.”

“Yeah well, I really just wanna learn how to make a bomb,” he paused a moment, but then turned and smiled at Janus. “Kidding.”

“Funny,” Janus said flatly. This guy is so weird.

“Hey, have you had dinner yet?” Remus suddenly popped up and sat cross-legged on the bed. He bounced slightly, causing the old wire frame to creak underneath him.

Janus was caught a bit off-guard by the sudden change in demeanor. “N-No, not yet.”

“Catch.”

Remus reached into his coat pocket, pulled out a small package, and tossed it to Janus. Janus turned it over in his hands, and found it to be a package of pop tarts— strawberry flavored.

“They have a whole stand of free snacks in the cafeteria. I took a bunch of ‘em,” Remus stated as he began unwrapping his own morsel.

“Healthy,” Janus said snidely, eyeing the sugar content.

“If you don’t want it, give it back,” Remus mumbled, half of the pop tart already in his mouth.

Janus very much would have given it back, if it weren’t for his growling stomach. As well as not sleeping, he also hadn’t eaten anything since that morning. And considering how late it was, the pop tart was probably his best option.

“Thanks,” he mumbled as he unwrapped the frosted pastry.

“Welcome,” Remus smiled, “figured you probably hadn’t eaten much. I’ll make sure to get something ‘healthier’ next time.”

“You got this specifically for me?”

“Of course not. I got it for me. But then I thought you might want some too, so I went back,” having practically inhaled his pastry, Remus tossed the wrapper and began work on a second one.

“That was... very thoughtful. Thank you,” Janus repeated.

“What can I say, I’m just a thoughtful guy,” Remus finished his second pack and laid back down on the bed, satisfied.

“And here I thought you were just another guy with dicks for brains.”

Remus shot a glance at Janus, surprised, but Janus just gave him an impish smile.

“Kidding.”

Remus’s face broke into a wide grin. He looked almost proud.

“I like you, Dee. I think we’re gonna get along just fine.”

Janus smiled as he took a bite out of his pop tart.

“Me too.”

******

“Hey Pat, you dropped this.”

“Oh, Lollihops!” Patton plucked the stuffed frog from Roman’s hands, and carefully set it down on his pillow next to the other two.

“So you like frogs, huh?” Roman commented.

“Yeah! I know it’s weird, a grown man with stuffed animals, but I just couldn’t leave home without em! They’re like my babies!” Patton smiled at the little trio. Lollihops, Croakington and Sir Hopsalot had stuck by Patton his whole life, even when everything around him was constantly changing. He wasn’t about to let them go anytime soon.

“They’re cute,” Roman said encouragingly, and gave Lollihops a little pat on the head. “Nothing wrong with a few little cuddly companions. As long as they make you happy right?”

“Yes, yes, exactly! Thank you!” Patton beamed with excitement. It felt so good to be validated, especially by someone like Roman. He figured Roman would think he was weird, or childish; after all, he seemed so strong, and mature, and confident,

and pretty,

but he also seemed really nice and compassionate. It was clear Roman was way out of Patton’s league, but he didn’t seem to mind. Patton counted his lucky stars that he got such a good roommate.

As he did, Patton noticed a ringed notebook sitting on the desk next to his bed. It wasn’t one of his; it was red and sparkly, and had a small drawing in the lower corner— a dragon wearing a little witches hat, etched in black ink.

“Hey Roman, is this yours?” Patton asked as he picked up the small notebook off the desk. Not thinking, he opened it up and started reading a page.

Roman turned and jumped when he saw Patton reading. “Oh, that’s nothing,” he said as he snatched the book out of Patton’s hands. “Just a journal.”

“S-sorry, I didn’t mean to pry,” Patton said sheepishly. Come on, Pat, you should know better. That’s private!

But what he had seen had made him curious. He had to ask, “Do you write poems?”

Roman eyed Patton cautiously, still clutching the journal. He seemed to be deciding what to tell him.

“They’re... song lyrics, actually.”

“Really?” Patton’s jaw dropped, “That’s so cool! Do you sing?”

“Sort of,” Roman shifted in place, looking both flattered and embarrassed. “I’m better at guitar, though.”

“You play guitar?!” Patton’s eyes shone in excitement. “Wow! I wish I was talented like that. I can play Chopsticks on the piano but that’s about it. And you write your own songs?”

“Well...” Roman’s lack of enthusiasm was quite perplexing. What was he so embarrassed about? Patton wondered.

“I try to write songs,” Roman explained, “I haven’t finished any of them. None of them are very good anyway.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, they’re just... I don’t know, I just...”

Patton watched Roman fumble with the notebook as he fumbled over his words. Perhaps he wasn’t as confident as he looked. He needed some encouragement.

“Do you mind if I read some? I don’t want to overstep my boundaries, I get that it’s private, but...” Patton trailed off and waited for an answer.

Roman thought about it another moment, but finally relented and handed over the journal.

Patton opened it back up to the page he had seen, and read quietly. He read another page. And another. Each one was covered in beautiful phrases about love and loss, happiness and anger, risk and regret. Patton read and read, amazed at the talent and heart that was being poured out onto every page.

“These... are really good, Roman,” Patton spoke softly with wonder, “Why did you think they weren’t good?”

“I don’t know. They all sound so... cliché. Everybody writes love songs, you know? I wanna write something new, y’know, something nobody’s done before. I just always start out with an idea, but then... I start hating it halfway through. That’s why I never finish anything.”

Patton finally closed the notebook and handed it back to Roman. “Well, I think people write about love so much because there’s so many ways to talk about it. It’s not so much what you write about, it’s how you write it, right?” He gave Roman the warmest smile he could possibly manage, “And I think you write beautifully.”

Roman’s cheeks burned red, and he looked down at the little notebook. “You’re not just saying that?”

“Of course not!” Patton dared to place a hand on Roman’s shoulder. He didn’t shy away. “I think you’re a very talented individual, Roman, and I look forward to getting to know what you’re all about!”

Roman smiled, “Thanks Pat. I... I can call you Pat, right?”

Patton smiled back, “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

******

The diner was small and cramped, but in a cozy kind of way. Logan and Virgil had settled on it after assessing the state of their wallets, and were now sat at the counter, watching the chefs bustle about in the kitchen. The smell of eggs, bacon, pies, pancakes, and maple syrup hung in the air. Oldies crackled over the speakers, almost drowned out by the mumble and bumble of conversation from the other patrons. Logan’s deep voice added to the sound, as he continued to ramble about this and that. He wasn’t paying much attention to what he was saying; he was focused more on Virgil’s reaction. The boy next to him sat hunched over, eyes averted, fidgeting with his fork. He looked like he was trying very hard not to look too uncomfortable.

Logan’s heart sank. He had been so excited when Virgil agreed to accompany him; the prospects of making a new friend were slim for Logan. It was his own fault, he knew. He just couldn’t seem to relate to others— his interests never matched those around him. Even now, the boy in the dark sweatshirt and shaggy black haircut couldn’t be less interested in what he had to say. However, Logan would have to share a room with him for the next four months at least, so this was not a relationship he could afford to lose. He decided to accept defeat before the situation got any worse.

“I’m talking your ear off, aren’t I?” Logan tried to sound pleasant and positive, and not disappointed at all.

Virgil perked up immediately. “No no, you’re fine. Sorry,” he said, almost instinctively.

Logan cocked his head, confused. “Why are you apologizing?”

“Oh, I just,” Virgil stuttered, “Sorry, I’m not— you know, sorry for not, contributing to the... the conversation... much...” his voice trailed off to a whisper as a soft pink spread across his pale cheeks.

Logan was taken aback. He had not expected an apology. What’s more, Virgil seemed embarrassed. Why would he be embarrassed?

“That’s nothing to apologize for,” Logan said earnestly, “I should be the one apologizing, I’m yammering away and not letting you get a word in.”

“Oh, that’s ok. I’m... not really a big talker,” Virgil dared a glance over at Logan, “If you couldn’t tell already.”

“Well, I tend to talk a little too much,” Logan smiled back, “If you couldn’t tell already. Just let me know if I start to annoy you. I won’t be offended at all.”

“Do people say that a lot?”

“What?”

“That you annoy them?”

Yes, thought Logan. All the time. Not in so many words, but in their actions, their reactions, and their subtle body language. A quiet sigh, a resigned look, a shallow excuse to end the conversation; no one ever mentioned it, but it was oh so clear to Logan— nobody seemed to care. No one had ever really listened. No one had tried to understand. No one had ever, ever said the words—

“You don’t annoy me,” Virgil’s voice cut through Logan’s thoughts and struck him at his core. He had set down his fork, and was staring intently at Logan with his dark eyes.

“I’m sorry if I made it seem that way. I’m just, not very good in social situations. I have a hard time talking, making eye contact and all that. But that doesn’t mean I’m not interested.” He looked down for a brief moment, and then back up again, “The truth is, I was really nervous to do this. I mean, I don’t know you. But you seem like a nice guy, and I mean, I’m gonna have to get to know you eventually, right? And if you don’t mind me being so quiet, I don’t mind just listening to you.” His cheeks flared pink again and he muttered quietly, “I really like listening to you.”

“...Oh.” Logan was struck speechless. Who was this boy, who spoke so softly, but so sincerely? Where had he learned to be so heartfelt with such simple words? Could he really be telling the truth? Logan searched his face for some semblance of deceit, but he found none. Only concern creeping up behind his eyes.

“Uh... are you ok?” Virgil asked cautiously.

“Yes!” Logan said a little too excitedly, “Yes. I just... don’t hear that very often. Thank you.”

Virgil smiled for the first time since the two had met. “No problem,” he said quietly.

As if following a cue, the waitress arrived with their orders, and the two boys turned their attention to eggs and hash browns. However, Logan’s mind continued to play the words over and over: You don’t annoy me. I like listening to you. You don’t annoy me. I like listening to you. You don’t annoy me...

Maybe, just maybe, this would be a friendship to last.

[alejoskies]

Sul Sul tumblr simmers!

So I recently downloaded a mod to have Zodiac Signs traits (never understood why they removed this feature if it was there since Sims 1 ���😡) and I decided to create Sims for each sign. Each one of them have monochrome (1 color) looks, according to their last name.

(The traits marked with * are mod traits/aspirations)

♈🐏 Ariana Red - No Regrets* Aspiration - Aries*, Outgoing, Active

♉🐂 Teo Green - Pastry Chef* Aspiration - Taurus*, Foodie, Green Thumb

♊👯 Gem & Ini Yellow (Twins) - Friend of the World Aspiration (Gem) & Master of Mischief Aspiration (Ini) - Gemini*, Dog Lover (Gem), Scandalous* (Gem), Cat Lover (Ina), Mean (Ina)

♋🦀 Luna Aqua (Spellcaster 🧝🏻‍♀️) - Succesful Parent Aspiration - Cancer, Gloomy, Family Oriented

♌🦁 Leon Gold - Famous Celebrity Aspiration - Leo, Self Assured, Self Absorbed

♍🕊 Virgil White - Friend of the Animals Aspiration - Virgo, Perfectionist, Squeamish

♎⚖ Balance Pink - Master Painter Aspiration - Libra, Art Lover, Pretty Girl*

♏🦂 Scorpion Black (Vampire, Vampire Dark Form 🧛🏻‍♀️) - Dastardly Aspiration - Scorpio, Evil, Romantic

♐🏹 Sergio Orange - Joke Star Aspiration - Sagittarius, Outdoors Lover, Non-Commital

♑🐐 Capri Brown - Fabolously Wealthy Aspiration - Capricorn, Ambitious, Handy

♒🏺 Aquaria Purple (Human Disguise, Alien 👽) - Computer Whiz Aspiration - Aquarius, Vegetarian, Genius

♓🐟Aphrodite Blue (Human Form, Mermaid 🧜🏻‍♀️) - Ariel* Aspiration - Pisces, Music Lover, Creative

Reblog/like if you like them, and let me know what you think & if you feel related to your sign! 😁🥰💚

[ds-ts-smut-fics]

Sweet On You [Chapter Three]

Giggling and bouncing a little on his feet like a puppy, Patton grins, holding a small tin close. It was so adorable how Virgil had sent him the address to the restaurant the day before, asking that Patton didn’t look up what it was, just to surprise him. 

Standing now in front of a small, picturesque diner, out of the way from most of the traffic and busy shops, Patton can't help but coo. "It's so cute!" 

Thinking of something, he slips his phone out after a small juggle of objects, sending a text.

Patton:

Hey, baby! How should I find you? Are you here yet?

Anxiety: 

I’m inside. I’m at the booth in the corner. 

Humming softly, he tucks his phone away, opening the door and making his way to the indicated booth. "Hiya, darling! Oh! Um… Anxiety?" 

Pausing in his motion to offer a hand and tug his date into a hug, his eyes flick over the features of the young Hearst scion before the smile returns even if a bit more nervous. "I'm Patton… You're expecting me, right?"

Anxiety grabs his hand and pulls him into a tight hug. He- She? He? -doesn’t seem to realize Patton recognizes him. “Hi. I’m Virgil.” 

Humming, he returns the tight embrace. "Hello, Virgil! He/him pronouns, yes, kiddo?"

He nods, blushing a little. He slides into the booth. “Yeah. Should I have mentioned, um, that I’m trans before we met up?” 

"It did throw me off a little? Only because I wanted to make sure I wasn't approaching a random person and making them uncomfortable, though!" Giggling, he sits and slides over the tin. "For you, baby!" 

Virgil perks up, opening the tin. 

Leaning over and pointing things out, Patton giggles happily. "Chocolate chip cookies, chocolate marshmallow swirl fudge, some salted caramels and brownies with walnuts and chocolate chunks! All homemade fresh just for you!"

Virgil smiles, clasping his hands together. “Thanks, Patton! This looks great.” He looks up at him shyly. 

Blushing a little with pride, Patton hums. "Thanks, kiddo! I'm training as a pastry chef at La Princessa, so I hope they came out good enough…"

“We can try them after we eat? They look great.” Virgil shuts it back up, and then reaches over, taking Patton’s hand. 

Nodding, Patton grins, squeezing Virgil's hand and lifting it to press a gentle kiss his knuckles. "Of course! Got a plan on what you'd like to eat?" 

“How about you order for me?” Virgil smiles cheekily.

Laughing, Patton opens the menu, and grins, remembering Virgil saying he's a vegetarian. "How about the veggie cheeseburger, I'm thinking you're a cheddar person… fries and a diet soda."

“That’s a good pick,” he says. “I’ve had it before, it’s good.” 

They order their food once the waiter comes around, Virgil putting in two milkshake orders. 

Patton blushes, tracing a small pattern on the table. "So, I'm guessing this is kinda under the radar for you, kiddo?"

Virgil’s eyes widen, and then he blushes. “Oh… I was hoping you didn’t recognize me. I guess that was stupid, though.”

Patton gently squeezes his hand. "You are fairly well known, darling… I don't mind it, though?" Smiling softly at him, he giggles self consciously. "I just hope to be able to do well by you?"

Virgil looks him over, smirking confidently. “I’m sure you’ll do fine.” 

Laughing, he grins wide. "Thanks, baby girl! I mean, baby boy! Oopsie!" The mistake making him blush and groan as he drops his face into his hands.

Virgil bites his lip, and then bursts into laughter. His face red from embarrassment, but looking genuinely amused. 

Looking up, Patton offers a small smile, "Sorry, baby…"

“It’s fine,” he promises. He looks down at their hands. “Honestly, other than my friend, you’re the only one who’s, like, bothered to correct yourself. It doesn’t bother me if you mess up sometimes.” 

"I try to get it right…. pronouns are important, baby boy.” 

They pull their hands away as the server comes with their food and milkshakes. 

“So… what do you like to do for fun, hmm?” Patton asks. “Tell me what interests the lovely Virgil."

Virgil hums, sipping on his drink. “Well, I’m in school for creative writing. I don’t go to class much, though.” 

"Not as interesting as you'd thought, or not good teachers?" Tipping his head, he smiles, eating some fries.

He shrugs. “It’s just boring. I didn’t really want to go in the first place.” 

"You'd rather just write, then? Or is there another dream you'd like to pursue?" 

He shifts uncomfortably, taking a long sip of his milkshake before answering. “I don’t know. I’m in college because my parents told me I had to go. I’m not sure what I want to do yet.” 

Offering his hand again, Patton smiles. "That's okay, baby… you don't have to know yet! I only figured out that I wanted to cook things. I've been doing pastry for years, but I'm actually going to school for it now!" 

Virgil forces a little smile, running his thumb over Patton’s palm. “Thanks. What classes are you taking?” 

“Well, a lot of courses on food preparation and history of different cuisine. It's a bit hard to explain… Basically, we study the history and tradition and then how to make it! Then there's classes on english, math, and business, it's a fun combination!"

He nods. “That sounds a lot cooler than all my classes. The only ones I really enjoy are the business and finance classes.” 

As the waiter takes their plates, Patton orders some more fries before turning to Virgil with a soft hum, taking the smaller hand in his again.

"So maybe you'd like to go into business, baby? Make your own or invest in another's dream!" Lifting Virgil's hand, he smiles, kissing the palm.

Virgil can’t help but smile at the kiss. “Well, I’m supposed to inherit my parents’ business when they die. They want me to start up my own smaller one before that, though, for practice. I kind of want to make a publishing firm.” 

"Combining the two interests! I like it! Perhaps you should send an email to your advisor and see if there's a way to work the class schedule to make this more possible…" Gesturing happily as he talks, he kisses Virgil's hand again. "Oh, I'm so happy for you, baby boy!"

Virgil laughs. “It’s not that big of a deal, you dork!” He takes his hand back, rummaging around in a bag he brought. “Here. I have something for you.” 

Giggling, Patton grins before pulling in a little.  "Sorry… I get excited easily?" 

Virgil waves his hand dismissively. “It’s cute.” He pulls out an envelope, holding it nervously. “This might be hasty… But, well… I guess I have a good feeling. So here.” He thrusts the envelope in Patton’s direction, not meeting his eyes. 

Taking it, he tips his head in curiosity, eyes going wide as he gasps. Inside is a credit card and a small wad of cash. "Oh! Thank you, baby! I promise to treat you right and not betray this trust!" Kissing both palms, he grins, plans of dinners and quiet dates out dancing in his mind.

“So…” He blushes, squeezing Patton’s hands. “Is it official, then?”

Nodding, he grins. "I think it is, my baby boy! How about giving daddy a kiss to seal the deal, love?"

Virgil leans over, resting a hand on the side of Patton’s neck and giving him a soft, sweet kiss on the lips. The strawberry milkshake he was drinking is still on his tongue. 

Humming as it mixes with the chocolate, he slides a hand down the back of Virgil's head to hold him in place for a deeper kiss. "Mmm… delicious, baby boy~!"

Virgil pulls back as his back started aching from the awkward angle, blushing and rubbing his thighs together. 

Grinning, Patton nudges his plate closer. "Go ahead and eat more, baby, I think you might need your energy tonight~!"

Virgil grins back, happily finishing the fries. “So are you coming over tonight, then?” 

"If you'd like me to, I'd enjoy it a great deal, baby boy… that's a big thing for you, and for me. Being affectionate and loving with each other and caring for your needs!" Stroking Virgil's hand when he's finished, he grins and gives a small wink. "Repeated care if necessary!"

Virgil was grinning so wide it hurt. He pulled out his phone and typed for a minute. 

Anxious Kitten: 

I know your dorm sucks but i’m gonna need the apartment empty tonight. I sent u money for dinner

Astronomical Dork: 

That's fair. Date going well with your potential daddy? 

Anxious Kitten: 

So well. 

Virgil shoves his phone back into his pocket so he can focus on Patton. They finish up their food and Virgil covers the check and the tip, before pulling Patton out of the restaurant. 

“I’ll text you my address,” he says, taking Patton’s hand. “You’ll meet me there?”

Using the soft hold to swing Virgil into a tight hug, Patton grins. "I wouldn't miss it for all the world, baby boy!" 

Virgil hugs him back tight, staying there for a minute with his face buried in Patton’s neck. He was already so… comfortable. 

Nuzzling Virgil gently, Patton smiles. "Like being in my arms, baby? You feel so lovely there…"

“I love it,” he whispers. He forces himself to pull away, though, kissing Patton softly. “Come on. Let’s go back to my place.” 

Humming, Patton nods, "Let's, baby~ Did you have a ride?"

Virgil nods towards one of the cars, the nicest-looking one in the whole parking lot. “Yep. See you there.” 

"Lovely!" He kisses Virgil softly before walking towards a well kept but much older, light blue beetle, calling back, "I'll see you there soon, baby!" 

*** 

Virgil gets home- maybe breaking a speed limit law or two -and immediately sets down the tin before he rushes around the apartment, trying to get everything as clean as possible. 

He was already a pretty sloppy person, but now that he doesn’t have his parents reprimanding him every time he didn’t clean up after himself, his apartment was constantly a tornado. He was fine with it- but he wasn’t so sure Patton would be. He spent the next few minutes scooping up pizza boxes and dirty laundry and trying to shove everything back into its place. 

Whistling softly as he drives, Patton has a small, sappy smile on his face as he thinks about his new relationship. He's just so cute! Oh my goodness… I can't screw this up!! He seems, so okay with how bouncy and fidgety I am! Please, whoever, make this speed at which we're moving be a good sign? Stopping on a whim, he gets a flower for Virgil, having them wrap it in purple paper before continuing on to Virgil's address.

Soon pulling into the parking lot, he runs a hand through his hair and hides the sunflower behind him as he walks up and rings the buzzer for the apartment. Virgil lets him up, waiting at the door. 

Smiling, he presents the flower and offers Virgil a hug, "Hiya, sunshine!"

Virgil’s face turns bright red. He takes the flower with a big smile, staring down. “Th-thanks, Patton. Uh- Here, come in.” 

Virgil didn’t have a vase to put the flower in, so he found the tallest coffee mug he had and filled it with water. 

"I'm going to have to buy you a vase, aren't I, baby? Good surprise, then?" Toeing off his shoes, he follows Virgil, sliding his arms around him in another hug once the flower and mug are set down. 

Virgil leaned back against him, wrapping his arms over Patton’s. He laughed. “What, you don’t think that looks good?” The mug reached up to half of the sunflower, making it slouch over, the words “I’m a writer; I hate people” wrapped around the mug. 

"It does, but I think you'd like to use your mug sometimes?" Nuzzling Virgil, he grins happily. 

“I have other mugs.” He turned around in Patton’s arms, leaning back against the counter as he pulled Patton in for a kiss. 

Humming into the kiss, Patton presses Virgil into the counter more and tips his head to deepen it, hands settling on his hips as his eyes slide shut with a hum. Virgil draped his arms over Patton’s shoulders as he kissed him, his heart beating hard in his chest and his head feeling fuzzy. 

His fingers sliding around to caress Virgil's ass, he moans softly. Virgil bucks his hips into his touch, letting out a soft noise of surprise. 

Squeezing gently, he grins against Virgil's lips. "Too much, baby boy?"

“Not even close,” he mumbled. He was so turned on. 

"Mmm… good~!" Squeezing and rubbing more, he cups his ass and lifts Virgil a bit to sit on the counter. "Spread those sexy legs for daddy, baby boy~"

Virgil leaned back, moving the sunflower out of the way and spreading his legs with a grin. 

Sliding his hands up the spread legs, he hums softly, rubbing the soft thighs as he steps in closer. "Such a good boy~!"

Virgil wrapped his legs around Patton’s waist, pulling him closer and trapping him there. 

Chuckling, he nuzzles Virgil. "Needy, baby boy?" Virgil nodded, lightly grinding against Patton’s front. Moaning, Patton grinds back against him. "O-oh~! Keep doing that and I'll be getting the condom from my wallet to take you right here, baby… bed~?"

Virgil scooted forward and held onto Patton for him to pick him up. “Upstairs, first door on the left.” 

Easily lifting Virgil, Patton nuzzles his neck as he follows the directions, "Want to see your face as I mold you to me, baby~!" 

Virgil kissed along his neck, sucking and biting little marks as Patton walked. 

Gasping, Patton growls softly, pressing him against the wall at the top of the stairs and squeezing his ass, "Mmm~"

“Daddy,” Virgil groaned. “Daddy, need you.” 

Standing again, he claims Virgil's lips eagerly as he continues to the bedroom, "How do you want daddy, my sweet boy~?" 

Virgil settled back against the soft pillows and plush blankets, spreading his legs. “However you want me, daddy.”

Stroking up Virgil's body, Patton hums, sliding their clothes off slowly, "I think I want a taste of you and then sink inside you and see how loud you can scream for me, baby~!"

Virgil groaned, bucking his hips. “God, yes, please.”

As he strips them, he sets the condom aside, settling between the spread legs with a grin as he kisses down his chest. "Going to be such a sweet treat for daddy to eat, baby~?"

“Yes,” Virgil whined. “Please, please, get on with it!”

Giggling, he holds Virgil's legs open wider, sliding a pillow under his hips before lapping over his clit and slit lightly. "Mmm… good things take time, baby! Got to do this right~!"

Virgil shuddered, rubbing himself against Patton’s mouth. Licking inside, he hums softly, nibbling on his clit and holding him still. 

He whined. “Ah, daddy, Pat-” He moaned. 

"Going to cum for me, baby boy?" Stroking over the damp slit, he hums softly. 

 “Getting so close,” Virgil pants, gripping the sheets. 

Sliding his fingers inside, Pat rubs at the sensitive clit, licking deep inside along with them. "Cum~!"

Virgil came with a shout, his back arching.

Grinning, Patton kisses and licks him through the high as he slides a lubed finger over Virgil's hole. "So good for me, baby boy~!"  

Virgil pulled Patton up, giving him a hard kiss on the mouth. Kissing back with a moan, he lets Virgil taste himself on his lips, stroking over his hips and holding him close. Virgil grabs Patton by the arms and flips them over, grinding down over his cock and kissing down Patton’s neck. 

Gasping, Patton thrusts up. "Fuuuck~! C-condom, baby boy!" Pointing, he moans out as he grabs the slim hips.

Virgil scrambled to pull Patton’s wallet out of his pants, pulling out a condom and shoving it into Patton’s hands while gripping Patton’s shoulders and grinding down. 

Chuckling, Patton unwraps the condom and slides it on, grinding back. "Ride me, baby~!"

Virgil sunk himself down onto Patton’s cock, maybe a little too fast, groaning and pressing his forehead against Patton’s shoulder. Holding Virgil's hips, he hums, giving him a moment to recover before thrusting up into him with a moan. Virgil meets his thrusts, mewling and tipping his head back as pleasure races through his body. 

Kissing up the arched neck, Patton moans against his skin, fucking up into him hard. "Oh, oh fuuuck~! Too good, baby!"

“Daddy,” he panted, “harder!” Virgil was getting closer and closer, head fuzzy with pleasure as Patton brought him down hard on his cock, over and over again. 

Grinning at Virgil's reactions, he flips them, raising one of Virgil's legs to wrap around his waist so that he can slide in deeper and harder. "As you wish~!"

Virgil whimpered and came after a few minutes of this. Following soon after, Patton moans out, holding Virgil close and kissing him deeply. Virgil kissed him back, and then collapsed onto his chest, breathing heavily and looking him over with lidded eyes. 

Grinning, Patton catches him and rubs over his back. "Good, baby?"

“So good,” he sighed, realizing that was the best sex he’s had in a while. “Are you spending the night?” Thinking over his schedule just to make sure, Patton nods, stroking up the soft chest. "I had hoped to… give you all the cuddles and affection you deserve."

Blushing, Virgil rolled over to lay on the mattress, cuddling into Patton’s side. “Shh. Go to sleep.” 

Wrapping around Virgil with a grin after disposing of the condom carefully, Patton tugs blankets up around them. "After you, baby!"

Leaning over and giving Patton a soft kiss on the cheek, Virgil begins purring, “I made the right choice.” 

Rubbing softly behind his ears, Patton captures soft lips gently. "We both did, dearest…"

Virgil settles back against him, yawning and closing his eyes with a loud purr, quickly falling asleep. 

Humming, Patton gently pets him and yawns, slowly following Virgil into sleep after one last kiss to his forehead. "Goodnight, Virgil… My sweet baby boy."

Tag list:

@useless-gay-baby @nsfsanders @sinfulstorytime @felicianoromano @xpouii @chocolocosstuff @dn-fan21 @peachybee-alex

[broadwaytheanimatedseries]

more Single Dads AU!

Torres Family:

Remy and Valerie - Twins. They've always been close but independent, so when Valerie decided to move in with Remy to help him with the kids he was greatful but his pride was a bit wounded. He got over it though, especially since the boys love their aunt Valerie so much. Remy is a barista working his way through community college and Valerie is an actress in the local theatre.

Roman and Remus - they fight a lot and do everything they can to make themselves as different as possible from each other, as they are sick of constantly being mistaken for one another. This makes being in the school theatre together difficult, but at least they normally get cast as opposing roles so they never have to pretend to get along. Remus is also in the wrestling and football teams as a healthier way to express his more aggressive tendencies, while Roman is the student body president and part of the yearbook committee, so they don't see each other much at school outside of theatre.

Picani Family:

Dot and Larry - old married couple and adorable grandparents. Dot is an elementary school teacher and Larry is a Pastry Chef and the local Caffe is one of his regular customers.

Emile - therapist and single dad, isn't sure he's got the hang of this dad thing yet but both his parents and his kids keep telling him he's doing a great job so maybe he shouldn't worry so much.

Logan and Patton - debate team and cheer squad captains, respectively. Patton is head of the yearbook committee and Logan is student body vice president, so they have very different relationships to Roman. Patton also has a complicated relationship with Remus but doesn't let that get in the way of his cheerleading. They are close and while they have their fair share of arguments they are always there for each other.

Prieto Family:

Magenta - the older sibling and legal guardian. They are non binary and work as a barista in the local caffe in addition to college and taking care of their little brother.

Darwin - is in charge of makeup and costumes for the theatre department and started the creative writing club. He's a straight A student, which is the straightest thing about him, and a magnificent liar.

Myles Family:

Seth - owner of the local caffe and single dad who is trying to deal with his son's teenage angst and rebellion. Loves his son very much and will fight you if you talk shit about him.

Toby - Goth loner who doesn't like authority or rules very much but only attacks when provoked, and generally is nice and kind to people who aren't being dicks. The only extra curricular he takes is chess club.

Sanders Family:

Thomas - Drama Teacher and Single Dad, moved into town five years ago and adopted his son son 2 years ago. All the kids in his drama class jokingly call him dad at this point and he thinks it's great.

Virgil - joined the theatre department in eighth grade and with started the chess club that, to his surprise actually got more members than he thought it would. At the beginning of the current school year he decided to join the debate team as well and has quickly become a prominent member.

Nate Snell: No Known Family

[teacupfulofstarshine]

the crossroad of our destinies book two: fire

CW: mentions of fantasy ableism, character death of minor background OCs, cursing, mentions of war crimes, atla-canon-typical fantasy violence, mild angst, injury, brief blood mention, mentions of murder

word count: 9708

book one: earth // read it on ao3! 

“So you really can’t bend at all?” Roman asks. 

Virgil stiffens, rolling his shoulders back to try and relax the tension gathering there. He knew this question would come up sooner or later, and he has spent an inordinate amount of time preparing his response. “I don’t bend.” 

It’s not a lie. Virgil would lie outright, but Roman had tried that a couple of weeks ago only to have Logan immediately bust him. (As if he needed another reason to be the most terrifying twelve-year-old Virgil has ever met: his earth bending makes him a human lie detector.) Instead, Virgil answers with technical truths. They’re not the answers Roman is looking for, but they’re not going to earn a “Falsehood!” from Logan, either. 

“What’s it like?” Roman leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees and resting his chin on his hands. “Not being able to bend? I know that every type of bending feels different, but I don’t know what it would feel like to not bend at all.” 

“It’s not so bad, not bending,” Virgil says. “I mean, bending might make my life easier, but it also might make my life more difficult.” 

“Have you ever seen it? Water bending, I mean?” 

A beat of silence. “Yeah. Yeah, I have.” 

“What does it look like?” 

“It’s . . .” Virgil searches for words that won’t betray his secret. “Have you ever seen dancers?” 

“I’m an ex-Fire Nation prince, Virgil. Of course I’ve seen dancers.” 

“But have you seen ribbon dancers? The way the silk arcs through the air, rippling and elegant, controlled and powerful . . . that’s what water bending looks like. To me, anyway. Snow and ice bending are different, and of course healing is different, but water bending . . .” Virgil’s throat chokes up. “It’s beautiful.” 

Roman is quiet, subdued. “I know my father. I know what he did to the water benders of the Southern Pole. I . . . I’m sorry.” 

“They killed my father,” Virgil says softly. “My mother died giving birth to me, and my father . . . he died protecting me. They killed him instead of me.” Roman gently places a hand on Virgil’s knee, all traces of joking gone, and Virgil whines softly.

“I am so sorry,” Roman murmurs, “that my father has destroyed your life.” 

“It’s not your fault,” Virgil says. Before starting this journey, he never could have pictured himself saying something like that to a fire bender, much less a former prince. But Roman isn’t just some prince, some foreign enemy. He’s Virgil’s friend. “You didn’t kill my father, and you didn’t give the orders to the general that did. It isn’t your fault, Roman. You’re not responsible for your dad and his tomfuckery.” 

Roman snorts a little at the swear. A whip of air smacks Virgil’s arm. “Virgil!” Patton says, scandalized. “Watch your language!” Virgil just laughs, and Roman laughs with him.

*~*~*~*~*

Virgil is hesitant to enter Fire Nation territory, even if it’s just the outlying colonies. Roman assures him that nothing will go wrong, that they’ll be safe, but he isn’t quite sure if he believes him. “My father rarely visits the outlying colonies,” he tells Virgil. “My people are suffering under such a harsh regime. They will not aid him.” 

They still force him to stay with Remy and Thomas in the woods when they venture into town for supplies. “I know the Fire Nation better than any of you!” Roman protests.

“And the Fire Nation knows you,” Logan tells him firmly. “Stay with my brother and Remy. If something goes wrong, you’ll have to protect them and get Thomas out of here.” 

“Nothing is going to happen to you,” Thomas says firmly, gripping Logan’s shoulders. Logan reaches up and covers his brother’s hand with his own. “Promise me, Logan.”

“That is not a promise I can realistically make, Thomas. I cannot control the actions of others,” Logan says. “But I can promise you that I will do my best to avoid unnecessary confrontations and keep a low profile.” 

“You duelled Roman into the ground, like, two and a half weeks after you met him,” Thomas laughs. “I don’t think subtlety is in your nature.” Logan scoffs at him, but he doesn’t push Thomas’s hand out of his hair when he ruffles it. 

Patton ties a strip of fabric around his forehead, obscuring his air bender arrow tattoo. When they first met him, he was bald, but now that he’s been on the run with them for so long, his hair has grown back in. It’s a tousled mess of coppery curls, and they match the bright copper freckles splattered across his nose. 

“Do you think you’re going to keep your hair or shave it off again?” Roman asks. Patton reaches up to touch his hair. 

“It’s strange to get used to,” he says. “I’m used to feeling the wind on the skin of my head. It’s so weird! But I kinda like the way it looks. Do you think it looks weird?” 

“I think it looks nice,” Roman says. 

“I think you look fantastic,” Logan says dryly. 

“Thank you, Lo!”

“Roman, however, looks like a drowned platypus-bear.”

“Hey!” Roman squawks. “Why does Patton get to look good?” 

“Roman,” Logan says, slow and patient like he’s talking to a toddler, “I can’t see either of you. I”m fucking blind.” Roman throws a fireball at him, which Logan easily dodges, laughing. Patton flicks a hand up to extinguish the fireball before Roman can set the forest ablaze. 

*~*~*~*~*

The Fire Nation is loud. 

It’s much louder than Virgil’s village ever was. The air is sharp and sweet, smelling like spices and sweet incense and wood ash. Virgil sticks close to Logan as Patton bounces happily in front of them. He reaches down and takes Logan’s hand in his. 

It’s so small.

“I do not need you to hold my hand,” Logan says testily. 

“This isn’t for you,” Virgil hisses, gripping Logan’s hand tightly. “This is for me.” Logan turns to him, face scrunched up in confusion and annoyance, before exhaling softly.

“You’re telling the truth.” He keeps holding Virgil’s hand as they follow Patton through the bazaar, and Virgil exhales in relief. 

*~*~*~*~*

Roman squeals in excitement when they bring back the little pastries he had requested. “I love them!” he squeals. “They’re my favorites, I -” His eyes go misty as he unwraps the parcel. “On our birthday, Remus would always get to pick out the cake. I was happy as long as the chef made a tower of these.” 

He takes a bite, and the tears spill down his cheeks. “They’re just like I remember.” Before any of them can offer any sort of consolation, Roman is wiping at his eyes and offering his pastries to them. 

“We can’t take them,” Patton says gently. “They’re your special piece of home.” 

Roman shakes his head and pushes the parcel towards them. “Please, I insist. I want to share with my friends.” Virgil is the one to break the strange, motionless silence, breaking off a corner. The pastry is layered with a thick, syrupy honey that leaves sticky residue on his fingers. When he pops it into his mouth, a sweet spice explodes across his tongue. There’s a slight, residual burn that tingles through his mouth as he swallows. 

“I know, right?” Roman says, reading something in Virgil’s facial expression. Virgil nods, licking the honey off his fingers. His obvious enjoyment is enough to encourage the rest of the group to start snacking on pieces of the treats.

*~*~*~*~*

Roman keeps every letter that Dragon brings him tucked against his chest. Under his shirt is a leather pouch that he attaches to his chest by tying it with strings, and inside he keeps the scrolls that he receives. “Remus and Dolos probably can’t keep my letters,” he tells Virgil. “They’ll have to burn them to make sure that no one else sees them.” 

“Why?”

“If the crew finds out that the exiled prince is sending messages to them, they’re in danger. Remus is already toeing the line by keeping Dolos aboard the ship. Discovering that they’re in contact with me endangers our lives and theirs.” 

Virgil wants to ask why Roman bothers putting so much care and effort into the crafting of his letters if he knows they’re going to get ruined. He spends so much time staring off into space, thinking of the perfect words, and then he sketches out elaborate doodles. Remus’s are always weird and kind of deranged, but Remus sends them back in kind. 

Dolos’s letters all have intricate, elaborate borders of twining flowers on them, and more than once Virgil has caught Roman doodling sparrow-snakes onto the letters for his love. “He loves them,” Roman tells him. “I promised him a pet sparrow-snake as a wedding present.” 

“Why would you do that?” Virgil asks, pulling one of his knives from his sleeve and examining the blade’s edge for imperfections. 

“Because it would make Dolos happy,” Roman says, looking up with an uncharacteristically fond expression. “I love Dolos. I want him to be happy. But I also want him to be alive, so . . . so I have to sacrifice his happiness and mine to keep him that way.” 

Virgil sets his knife down and reaches out to touch Roman’s shoulder. “I know that you love him,” he says softly. “And I know that he means so much to you that you would kill to keep him safe. You’d do anything for him.”

“Not anything,” Roman says. 

“What, then? What wouldn’t you do?” 

“I wouldn’t sacrifice you,” Roman says, eyes burning and serious. “I wouldn’t sell you and the others out to my father, even if it meant he would take me back. I love Remus and Dolos, I do, but you guys are . . . you’re my friends.” The way he says that word, friends, has a heavy finality about it. It carries a gravity that Virgil didn’t expect. “I wouldn’t be worthy of Dolos if I sold my friend out. And anyway, I like you guys too much to let you die.” 

“How touching,” Virgil says dryly, smacking Roman’s head with the flat of his blade. The only part of Roman that’s damaged is his pride. 

That doesn’t stop him from squawking in rage and chasing Virgil all across their campsite. 

*~*~*~*~*

Dragon lands on Roman’s outstretched forearm with ease, even though Remy is still coasting through the air. Roman coos to the bird, stroking his back as he reaches up and nips at Roman’s hair and ear. 

“Doesn’t that hurt?” Thomas asks, eyeing the bird suspiciously. 

“Not that bad,” Roman says. “When he nibbles my hair, it only feels like a light tugging, and he never bites my ear hard enough to hurt or bleed. It’s like a pinching feeling. I’m fine with it. Besides, he’s a good little birdy! Isn’t that right, Dragon? You’re a good little messenger birdy!” 

Dragon wraps his massive talons around the reinforced sleeve of Roman’s jacket and coos. Roman unties the scroll from his leg and spreads it out on the back of the saddle. Virgil carefully drops little weights on the corners to keep it spread out without blowing away. “What’s the intel?”

The intel, as it turns out, is a map of the Fire Nation, with a few small islands marked in red and black. “These are all sacred fire bending sites,” Roman muses, slowly tracing his fingers over the map. “And this is the code Re and i used when we were children. We used to write secret messages to each other.”

“What does it say?”

“He’s marking which islands are safe.”

“None of them are safe, because they’re in the middle of the Fire Nation,” Virgil mutters. Roman glares at him. “What? It’s not a comment on you personally, Princey. I know you love the Fire nation, I know it’s home for you. But it’s currently under the thumb of your tyrannical father, who’s a notorious jackass that wants all of us dead.” 

Roman lets his fingers skim over the ocean. One of the islands, the only unmarked one, is surrounded by drawings of monsters. There is writing above the island drawing, the only neatly-printed script on the entire map. It looks like Dolos’s handwriting. Roman smiles. 

“What does it say?” 

“It says ‘Here there be Dragons.’ It’s an old Fire Nation children’s story - that island is, supposedly, where the last of the dragons was slain. The water is so rough and choppy that there’s not a single chance of a ship being pulled into that island.” 

“And we’re supposed to be able to get to it?” 

“By air, we could,” Roman says. “Remy could fly us in. There are pretty regular storms, but if we go on the heels of one we’ll make it before the next one hits. No Fire Nation battle cruiser is getting to that island - but we will. We can. It’s the safest place in the whole Fire Nation, probably. It would be a good base of operations, at least for a little while.” He splays his fingers over the island. 

“You miss home,” Logan says gently. “You want to be back on Fire Nation soil more than anything.”

“Not anything,” Roman says. “Not more than your safety. If I thought it wasn’t safe, I wouldn’t suggest it. But as far as I know, it is safe, and . . . and if we’re there, it’s mostly rock. There’s no chance of us setting fire to a forest and attracting unwanted attention.” 

“That sounds like it’ll work,” Patton calls, turning his head around just enough to glimpse them without taking his eyes off the sky. “I’m on board with it.” 

“I trust Roman,” Virgil says. “If he thinks that island is safe . . . I’m with him.” 

Thomas studies his face. Virgil maintains a calm expression, despite his nerves. “Alright, then. Fire Nation it is.” 

“Yip yip!” Patton calls. Remy swishes his tail irritably, but he turns anyway.

*~*~*~*~*

It gets hard to find water in the Fire Nation. 

It has to be there, obviously, because sustaining life without water is impossible. But when compared to the flowing rivers of the Earth Kingdom forests and the ever-present oceans and ice of the South Pole, the Fire Nation is practically a desert. 

Still, Virgil finds that their group is drawn to the water almost instinctively. Realistically, it’s because Remy needs to drink and to keep himself clean, and while they can all make do with a little waterskins, he needs a large body of water. Virgil still finds it like fate or destiny to be able to find so many little places to connect with his element, given where they are. 

The river nearby is smaller than any he’s seen before, full of large, mossy rocks that he can easily fall and hurt himself on. He carefully removes his shoes and steps into the water. It takes a minute to find a spot where he can achieve a normal bending stance, but once he does, he inhales. 

“Vee?”

Virgil nearly falls as he whirls around, seeing Logan standing in front of him. “Is - that is Vee, isn’t it?” 

“Y - yeah, Lo, it’s me,” he calls. “You weren’t sure?” 

“You’re standing in the river,” Logan says. “The water fucks with my earth bending, so it obscures my vision a little bit. I knew someone was there, but I didn’t know who it was . . .”

“It’s me,” Virgil says. 

“Why are you out here in the middle of the river?” 

“I miss home,” Virgil says. “We don’t have rivers like this, but we have water everywhere. We’re surrounded by ice and ocean and . . . and there’s just water, no matter where you look. And that’s why I’m here.” 

“I understand,” Logan says, sitting at the edge of the river. “There is earth all around me, but all earth feels different. This is nothing like the earth that I knew at home. It’s full of ash and volcanic overflow, which makes for rich soil that nourishes plant life well. But I miss the rocks of my home village.” His voice is quiet. “I do not think my home village exists anymore.” 

“Why not?” 

“They knew that the Avatar had been born into an earth bending family. They travelled through the Earth Kingdom, searching for the Avatar . . . Thomas and I ran in the middle of the night. I could not let him leave alone. As we ran, I smelled the smoke, but Thomas . . . he must have seen the village go up in flames.” 

Virgil hadn’t even considered that as a possibility. “Is he . . . okay?” 

“I assume so,” Logan says softly. “He never tells me otherwise. Then again, I doubt he would say anything to me if he was. He doesn’t like to worry me, which is stupid, because he’s my brother. I’m always worried about him. Especially when he goes and hides shit from me.” 

“You curse a lot for a twelve year old,” Virgil tells him. Logan throws a rock at him. 

*~*~*~*~*

The island is beautiful, Virgil thinks. It’s all tall, imposing mountains with scraggly trees clinging to the cliffs and shining black-sand beaches. As Remy descends, Virgil spies a glimpse of a gleaming golden building hidden in the mountains. “What’s that?” he asks Roman. 

“It’s a Fire Nation temple,” Roman tells him. His eyes are wide and shiny as he stares at the island, even as the waves crash down onto the beach. “Fire Sages would study there, calling on the spirits and seeking their advice. This temple’s been abandoned for who knows how long, since it’s virtually inaccessible these days.” 

“Is that where we’re going to study?” Thomas asks, leaning over the side of the saddle. 

“We can study anywhere on the island,” Roman responds, “but yeah, we probably will spend a fair amount of time there. It’s a traditional place to train in fire bending.” 

Remy touches down on the beach, and almost immediately a dark, choppy wave crashes down over his tail. The flying bison snorts loudly, irritated, and lurches forward off the beach. “Easy there, boy,” Patton soothes, reaching to pat at his head. 

“Where are we going to camp?” Logan asks. 

“We’re on the beach right now,” Thomas says, “but I don’t think we can stay here. The ocean is too unpredictable, not to mention ships could spot us. I think it’s best if we move inland, try to camp out somewhere in there.” 

“That sounds good,” Roman says. He jumps off of Remy’s back and sinks to his knees, digging his hands into the black sand. “Oh, I’ve missed this . . .”

“What is it?”

“Volcanic sand. It’s formed from lava, there’s no feeling like it!” Roman happily begins to roll around in the sand, laughing like a little kid. Virgil watches him indulgently for a couple minutes before he starts harassing him to lead them inland.

*~*~*~*~*

They set up camp at the base of one of the large mountains. Logan and Thomas earth bend some shelter structures out of the rock, and Logan hollows out a campfire pit. Roman goes and finds good firewood, easily bending a campfire to life. Virgil settles down next to Logan as Roman begins to talk about fire bending to Thomas. 

“You know how to do this,” he says. “Not consciously, of course, but you’re the Avatar. You were a fire bender in some of your previous lives. The memory of bending is somewhere inside you. We just have to unlock it.” 

“And how do we do that?” Thomas asks. 

“We start with the bending stances,” Roman says, “and we work our way up from there. A word of caution - I can only teach you some of fire bending.”

“What do you mean?” 

“I can’t bend lightning.” 

“Fire benders can bend lightning?!” Thomas gasps. 

“Not all of us,” Roman says, rubbing the back of his neck. “Remus and I had training in lightning bending, since we’re princes, but neither of us mastered it. To the best of my knowledge, anyway . . .” 

“That’s really cool, though,” Thomas says. 

“You know what’s really cool?” Roman says. “Redirecting lightning. If bending lightning is rare, redirecting lightning is crazy rare. It’s not really a fire bending technique, I don’t think, cause Uncle Emile’s the one who pioneered it. He told me he used water bending techniques to develop it.” 

That perks Virgil’s interest. “Water bending?” 

Roman nods, explaining the way his uncle had developed the redirection technique in between instructing Thomas and adjusting his bending stances. Virgil listens, quietly taking mental notes in case he can use any of these stances in his own bending practices. 

*~*~*~*~*

The ocean is so different to the one at the South Pole. 

Virgil creeps away at night, after they’re all asleep. Patton is snuggled up to Remy, tugging the flying bison’s tail over himself like a blanket. Logan and Thomas are pressed close together, Logan’s quiet breaths obscured by Thomas’s snores. Roman is sprawled out on his stomach like a starfish, face totally obscured by his growing mop of wild curls. It’s warm enough in the Fire Nation that no one feels the need to huddle up to him for warmth, letting him spread out the way he apparently normally does. 

As he makes his way to the ocean, Virgil hums to himself, an old lullaby that he remembers from his childhood. It’s an old tale about spirits and balance and the moon, and it comforts him. The Fire Nation island is dark, but the moon overhead is bright and full. Virgil can feel it pulling on him as he creeps ever closer to the ocean. He steps out from the shadow of the sparse forest lining the coast onto the black sand of the beach just as a massive wave breaks against the shore. The water is black as pitch, and the moon gleams overhead like a jewel, reflecting beautifully on the water. 

“Hello,” Virgil whispers. The black sand is unlike anything he’s ever felt; it glides smoothly over the skin of his bare feet, slipping between his toes as he digs them in for balance. He understands why Roman missed a beach like this. 

Virgil knows that he isn’t strong enough to bend the ocean. Water is one thing, but the ocean is under the control of the spirit La, and Virgil doesn’t want to mess with spirits. For once, he isn’t out here to practice his bending. 

“Tui, Spirit of the Moon,” he says softly, “you gave me the gift of water bending, and taught me to wield it for defense. From your example, I take my lead. I thank and honor you.” Reaching into the small bag tied at his hip, he pulls out a piece of fruit he’d saved from their dinner, one of the two finest. “I offer you this sacrifice in thanks and adoration.” A wave rolls in, and he carefully sets the fruit down on a large, broad leaf. It’s carried out to sea, like a tiny boat, and Virgil quickly loses sight of it. He doesn’t bother to try and keep track of it; he has another sacrifice to make. 

“La, Spirit of the Ocean, you gave me the gift of the water I bend, and taught me to wield it for healing. From your example, I take my lead. I thank and honor you.” He produces the second piece of fruit he’d saved. “I offer you this sacrifice in thanks and adoration.” Another wave rolls in, and Virgil watches another leaf-boat disappear into the ocean. 

He’s done this spirit sacrifice every full moon that he can remember. Even on this journey, he’s done it, setting the sacrifices of the nicest parts of dinner he can save into the nearest body of water. He hopes that the rivers will carry his sacrifices out to La.

Traditionally, the spirit prayers are meant to be said in the plural. Virgil’s father had told him stories of the past, when all the water benders of the tribe would gather and sacrifice and pray together, thanking Tui and La for their gifts. Once the Fire Nation raids had begun, they had stopped. 

Virgil makes a point to do it every single full moon. Bending is a precious gift, and deserves to be treated as such. He steps closer to the ocean, bending down to dip his fingers into the waves. The water is chilly, but it’s nothing compared to the burning cold of his home ocean. He lifts his hand to his mouth and gently licks his fingers, grinning. 

He’s missed the taste of salt water. 

*~*~*~*~*

It takes Thomas almost a week to be able to produce fire. 

At first, all he can produce are puffs of dark smoke and the occasional spark. Roman seems ecstatic with this progress. “It’s good!” 

“It’s not fire,” Thomas says dejectedly. “It’s not anything.” 

“Most firebenders start out with smoke,” Roman says. “At least it’s dark! That’s a good sign! Dark smoke is always better than pale smoke. Remus’s smoke was pale for the first two months that we practiced.” 

“So . . . I’m not a failure?” 

“Of course you are not a failure,” Logan says, smacking his brother’s shoulder. “Do not say stupid things. It is beneath you.” 

Virgil snorts, laying out his array of knives. They gleam in the strong Fire Nation sunlight, and the edges are freshly sharpened. “You’re the fuckin’ Avatar, Thomas. You’re not a failure.” 

“Yeah!” Roman says, trying to be helpful. “Hey, at least you can bend!” 

“Roman!” Patton hisses. Logan glares at him disapprovingly, and Thomas frowns. Virgil is confused for a second, until he sees Patton glance at him sympathetically. 

Oh. 

They think Roman was making a dig at him, because they think that he can’t bend. 

Roman looks at him in confusion, and then immediately claps his hands over his mouth. “Oh - shit - fuck, Virgil, I didn’t - I wasn’t trying to - I’m so sorry -”

“Don’t apologize,” Virgil says, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s all good.”

“It’s not all good, though,” Roman says. “I never meant to imply that you’re not as important as us just because you can’t bend, I -”

“It’s all good, Ro, I mean that,” Virgil says. “I don’t bend, but that doesn’t mean I’m defenseless. I have all of these to keep me safe, and that’s not the only trick I have up my sleeve.” 

“What do you have up your sleeve?” Logan asks him. “Besides many, many knives, anyway.” 

“Water bending can be used for healing,” Virgil says. “There are plenty of scrolls about it in my home village. Different types of bending use different energy pathways, and if you know where those pathways flow, you can cut them off.” 

“You can take away someone’s bending?” Roman whispers. 

“Not permanently,” Virgil says, picking up one of his knives and fiddling with it so that he doesn’t have to look at anyone. “It’s only temporary. It leaves them weak and semi-paralyzed, and unable to bend, but they recover after half an hour or so. I try not to use it unless I have to, cause I know how much benders rely on their abilities.” 

“That’s a pretty powerful skill,” Thomas says quietly. 

“I guess. But you’re the Avatar, so you’d know all about power, wouldn’t you?” 

Thomas nods, but there’s still something strange in his eyes. 

Virgil goes for a walk by the ocean. When he comes back, the strangeness is gone. 

*~*~*~*~*

“Why am I the one who has to go get firewood?” Virgil complains. 

“Because I did it last time, and Patton did it the time before that, and Thomas and Roman are off doing fire bending practice somewhere,” Logan says. “It’s your turn.” 

“I can go,” Patton offers. “It’s not that big of a deal!” 

“No, Logan is right,” Virgil sighs, rolling to his feet. “It’s my turn to go get the firewood, so I’ll go get it. It’s not really that big of an imposition.” He pats his tunic, boots, sleeves down to make sure that he’s fully stocked with knives in case something happens. “I’ll meet you all back here, alright?” 

He tightens the straps of his boots and heads off inland in search of firewood. 

The island is very pretty, Virgil will give it that. The forest is almost non-existent this far inland, but there are plenty of small, woody plants and shrubs that he can gather wood from. He has an armful tucked against his side when he hears the noise. It’s a pained cry, and for a moment he thinks it’s Roman or Thomas. 

Quickly, he shakes his head to clear it and refocus. Thomas and Roman are training closer to the shoreline today, so they wouldn’t be this far inland. And the cry he’d heard . . . it wasn’t quite human. 

The cry echoes again, but there’s something different about it. Virgil ties the firewood together and throws it over his shoulder, scrambling off towards the cry. “I’m coming!” 

He realizes that this is kind of a stupid move. He realizes that he could be running straight into danger. What if it’s a trap? What if he gets himself killed? Despite his fear, there’s something in him pulling him forward. The cry sounds real, and it sounds pained. Who or whatever is making it needs help, and Virgil will not stand idly by and let someone suffer because of his fear. 

He makes his way to a cliff, and he can hear whoever’s crying on the other side. The cliff is tall, but not unscalable. Virgil’s used to climbing glaciers back home, and while ice is slippery and more perilous than rock, he can rely on his bending to keep himself steady. Here, he’s climbing with no support. 

Virgil pulls off his boots and knots the laces together, slinging them around his shoulders. Going barefoot will ensure that he has a better grip on the cliff as he climbs. The sun gleams sharply on the dark rocks, and Virgil goes slowly to make sure he doesn’t accidentally grab a sharp rock and slice his hands open. He hasn’t had to climb like this in quite a while, but he enjoys it, despite the reason for his climb. 

When he finally pushes himself up to the top of the cliff, he gasps. He’s found a small valley, hidden in the large, dark mountains, and tucked inside is a building. It’s built almost into the shadow of the mountain from dark brick, with a dark red tiled roof and gleaming golden accents. This must be the Fire Nation temple he’d spotted when they flew in, he realizes. 

The cry echoes again, and Virgil realizes that it’s coming from the temple. He quickly pulls his boots off from around his neck and tugs them on, knotting the laces securely. The cliff slopes much more smoothly on this side, like the curve of a bowl. Virgil backs up and then leaps over the side, pulling water out of the waterskin hanging at his side with his hand. He bends it and freezes it beneath him, creating a flat board that he can surf down the hill on. 

Virgil makes it to the bottom of the hill in record time, leaping off and bending his ice board back to regular water, which he quickly bends back into his waterskin. The temple hadn’t looked huge from the top of the cliff, but up close and in person it’s enormous. It’s clearly suffered from neglect; the door hangs ajar from the hinges, the gold is flaking off of the roof and the statues, some of which are missing arms and legs and noses and ears and even heads. Still, the temple is undeniably beautiful. 

A pitiful whimper sounds from the temple, and Virgil exhales softly. “I’m coming,” he says softly. “I’m coming.” 

The temple is dark inside, but Virgil can see rows of torches on the walls. He assumes they’re meant to be lit with fire bending, probably meant to be eternally burning, but he’ll have to make do. He carries flints with him in his shoulder bag, and he quickly pulls a torch off the wall and lights it. As he progresses slowly through the temple, he lights the other torches, and they cast a warm, ambient glow over the whole room. There are pictures decorating the entire length of the hallway, telling stories of the Fire Nation. They tell how the dragons taught the people of the Fire Nation to bend, to harness the warmth and strength of fire. 

Looking at these pictures, Virgil can’t fear fire bending. It looks peaceful; there’s strength and power there, but there’s also love and light and warmth. 

The hallway narrows and narrows and narrows, and then it widens abruptly into a large central chamber. This is the most intricately decorated room Virgil has ever seen - the walls, the roof, the floor, the pillars, everything is absolutely covered in decoration, but he can’t focus on any of it.

All he can focus on is the dragon in the middle of the room. 

It’s enormous , a long, serpentine body winding around the columns. It’s a brilliant red, scales flecked with gold, and a row of orange gold-tipped spines running down its back. Its wings are spread out over the floor, and its head has golden horns and spines and whiskers. The dragon lets out another pitiful cry, and as Virgil inches closer he sees it - a massive wound in the dragon’s side. 

It looks like an old wound, one that hasn’t healed properly. Even from afar, Virgil can tell that it might be infected, and the dragon’s breathing is heavy and labored. He creeps closer, and the dragon’s head snaps around to stare at him. Its eyes are a bright, unnatural blue, with slitted golden pupils, and when it stares at him it feels like it’s staring directly into his soul.

WHY HAVE YOU COME, CHILD? Virgil nearly drops the torch to cower and cover his ears. The voice is only in his head, and the dragon’s mouth does not move to speak, but he can feel it resonate against his sternum. HAVE YOU COME TO KILL ME, FINALLY?

“N - no,” Virgil manages, voice catching in his throat. “I heard you crying out.”

I AM IN PAIN. I HAVE BEEN IN PAIN FOR QUITE SOME TIME. I FEAR I AM NOT LONG FOR THIS WORLD.

“I - I might be able to help you,” Virgil says. 

WILL YOU KILL ME, CHILD? PUT ME OUT OF MY MISERY?

“No,” Virgil says. “I - no ! I will not kill you! I want to try and heal you.” 

YOU THINK THAT YOU CAN DO THIS, CHILD?

“I’ve never tried to heal a creature this big or a wound this serious,” Virgil admits honestly. “But I’m going to try. I won’t just let you suffer without trying.” 

THAT IS ADMIRABLE.

“Can I come a little closer?” Virgil asks. The dragon rests its large head on its forepaws.

YOU MAY.

Virgil slowly climbs over the coils of the dragon’s body, settling himself down cross-legged next to the massive wound on the dragon’s side. It looks like an old burn wound, and the dragon’s flank rises and falls shallowly as it breathes. He gently lays a hand next to the dragon’s wound. 

“Oh . . . what happened?” 

IT WAS DRAGONS WHO TAUGHT THE FIRE NATION TO BEND. WE GAVE THEM THE GIFT OF FIRE. THE FIRE LORD TURNED IT ON US. HE SLEW ALL THE DRAGONS THAT I KNEW. I AM THE ONLY ONE LEFT. I AM THE LAST OF MY KIND. 

Virgil presses his free hand over his mouth. “That’s . . . that’s so horrible . . .”

I AM NOT THE ONLY ONE WHO HAS HAD THEIR LIFE DESTROYED, I SENSE.

Virgil winces. “My . . . my dad. They killed him because they thought he was the last water bender of our tribe. He died lying to protect me.” 

I AM SORRY, CHILD. THAT IS A FATE NO ONE SHOULD SUFFER.

Virgil exhales shakily. “No one should suffer your fate, either. I will do my best to heal you.” He pops the cap off of his waterskin and bends the water around his hands like a protective covering. The water begins to glow as he places his hands just above the dragon’s wound, letting his water bending give him information. What it tells him isn’t good; the wound is old, and it’s infected as he’d thought, and he suspects that the dragon has some form of blood poisoning. 

He’s never tried to heal something this big, or this serious. But he promised he would try, and try he will. He’s lucky that the full moon was the other night; that’s when water benders are at the height of their power. With luck, he’ll be strong enough for this task.

IF IT IS TOO MUCH FOR YOU, CHILD, DO NOT PUSH YOURSELF. I HAVE SURVIVED THIS LONG. I WILL ENDURE.

“No,” Virgil says, narrowing his eyes and clenching his jaw. “I’m not giving up. I have to try.” He presses his hands against the wound, and the water begins to glow even brighter. He focuses on the flow of energy moving throughout the dragon’s massive body, pulling out the infection surrounding the wound and trying to push healing energy into the dragon in its place. 

The water quickly becomes murky and infected as he heals. Virgil takes breaks to dispose of the tainted water and fetch some more clean water from the stream outside. The more he works, the shakier he gets, and he’s worried that he won’t have the energy to finish healing the dragon. 

DO NOT HURT YOURSELF, LITTLE ONE, the dragon rumbles. ALREADY I FEEL MYSELF IMPROVING. YOUR KINDNESS HAS DONE SO MUCH FOR ME.

“I - I can keep goin’,” Virgil slurs. “Almost done . . . one more should do it . . .”

He presses his hands against the wound one last time. It’s shrunk down considerably, all the infection pulled out and purified and disposed of. He’s working on the final part of the healing now, re-growing the torn and burnt muscle and skin and making sure the dragon’s scales grow in properly. 

Finally, he pulls his hands away, and the wound on the dragon’s side is no more. It stands up, shaking itself out; all of the scales rattle as they realign, and the dragon roars. THANK YOU, LITTLE ONE. YOU HAVE HELPED ME IMMENSELY. The dragon begins to glow bright blue, and Virgil’s exhausted brain manages to connect the dots: the dragon is a spirit. He’s just healed a spirit. 

YOU HAVE EARNED MY GRATITUDE THIS DAY, the dragon spirit tells him. REST NOW, LITTLE ONE. KNOW THAT THE SPIRITS ARE WITH YOU, AND ONE DAY YOUR GOOD DEED WILL COME BACK TO YOU TENFOLD.

Virgil’s vision blacks out and blurs around the edges. The last thing he sees as he falls backwards is the dragon spirit’s head coming forward to catch his body.

*~*~*~*~*

“- isn’t he waking up?!”

“What if he’s dead?” 

“He is not dead, I can hear his heartbeat. It is strong and steady. He will survive.” 

“But what if he doesn’t wake up?!” 

“Geez, Roman,” Virgil groans, lifting a hand to his head. “I never knew you cared.”

“Virgil!” He winces at the shout. “Oh, shit, sorry -” A hand presses against his forehead, warm, and when Virgil opens his eyes (only halfway), Roman is leaning over him, eyes bright with worry. 

“What . . . happened?” 

“You were taking forever to come back from firewood, so we went looking for you! We thought you had been ambushed and captured!” Patton explains, twisting his hands with worry. “We found you at the foot of a cliff, there was a rock next to you! We think there was some kind of rock fall that caught you unaware, you must have hit your head! We don’t know how long you were unconscious!” 

“How long has it been?” 

“We found you a few hours ago,” Thomas says. “It’s evening now.” Virgil slowly sits up, wincing when his head pounds. Logan is sitting beside him, and he offers him a waterskin. Virgil takes it and quickly gulps down a few chilly swallows.

“I thought you were dead,” he says softly. “I could feel your heartbeat, I could hear you breathing, I knew you weren’t, but when we found you, I - I was terrified, and I . . . I thought you were - I -” 

Virgil gently touches Logan’s shoulder. It’s easy to forget that he’s only twelve and a half, with the mature aura he generally projects, but sometimes it’s painfully obvious that he’s just a child, thrust into a war against his will. Logan will lose what’s left of his childhood to this conflict, and Virgil will be damned if he forces Logan to grow up any faster than he already is. 

“I’m sorry, Logan,” he says. Logan turns his face towards Virgil, and his eyes are wet. He hasn’t let any tears fall, but his hand is shaking when he places it over Virgil’s. “I didn’t mean to scare you, I - I didn’t mean to make you think you’d lost someone else. I’m okay.” 

Logan is silent for a moment. “You’re not lying,” he whispers. “I’m still mad at you, though.” 

“That’s fine,” Virgil says. “I’m sorry that I made you mad.” 

“Smart answer,” Logan says, but there’s a hint of a smile on his face. He sniffles once, loudly, wiping at his eyes. “You saw nothing. I was not crying.” 

“Of course not,” Virgil teases, gently ruffling Logan’s hair. He squawks loudly, but he makes no attempt to dodge Virgil’s hands. Virgil assumes he’s been forgiven. 

*~*~*~*~*

The stars seem a little brighter that night. Virgil is on his back, hands beneath his head, staring up at the stars, when Roman flops down next to him. “What’cha doin’?” 

“Looking at the constellations,” Virgil tells him. “They’re nothing like the ones back home, so I’m making up my own.” 

“Do you wanna hear about ours?” Roman offers. He seems uncharacteristically shy, but Virgil just smiles at him. 

“Sure, Ro. I’d love to hear about Fire Nation constellations.” Suddenly, the stars alight in Roman’s eyes. He lays next to Virgil and starts to trace lines between the stars, telling stories about the pictures he’s creating. At some point, the rest of their group shows up and settles in around them. Thomas lays down next to Virgil, Logan slots up against his brother’s side, and Patton stretches out beside Roman. 

It’s good. It’s . . . peaceful.

*~*~*~*~*

The first time Thomas produces a flame on purpose, they all stop and stare. 

Roman has arranged the kindling around the firepit, but he’s refusing to light it. “You’re going to light the fire,” he tells Thomas. The Avatar shakes his head. 

“Ro, I’ve never made more than plumes of smoke and the occasional spark. I can’t light it.” 

“You’re going to have to,” Roman says, “because I won’t. We can’t cook dinner without the fire, so you’re gonna have to figure something out and fast. The sun’s setting.” Thomas huffs. 

“Roman, you’re being ridiculous.” 

“You’re the Avatar. The fire is in your veins the way it’s in mine. You just have to convince it to come out.” Roman crosses his arms and raises an eyebrow impassively at Thomas. Even though he’s only met the man in passing, Virgil is reminded of Roman’s Uncle Emile. 

Thomas drops into a fire bending stance and thrusts his hand forward. A puff of dark smoke appears, but no fire. He growls in frustration and throws his hand forward again, and again, then his foot, then another hand. He’s copying Roman’s bending stances, but no fire appears. 

“You have to try harder than that.” 

“I’m trying the hardest I can!” 

“If that was true, you would have lit the fire five minutes ago.” Roman’s eyes are hard as steel. “Do better.” 

“How?!” Thomas pants, wiping the sweat off his forehead. 

“Just do it.” 

Thomas screams and thrusts his hand forward in frustration. A massive jet of fire roars forward, licking up the sides of the pit and engulfing all of the kindling. Within seconds, it’s reduced to ash. Before anyone else can react, Patton bends a vortex around the fire and siphons out all the air, extinguishing the fire. Thomas stares at the pit in shock, breathing heavily. 

“You did a good job,” Roman says, and his eyes are warm again. 

“What was that?!” 

“Fire benders often have to be pushed to a strong emotional extreme to create their first flame. Once you do it, though, it gets easier. We’ll work on being able to call your fire more reliably, and then we’ll work on tempering your control.” Roman touches Thomas’s shoulder and smiles. “I’m proud of you, Thomas.” 

Thomas smiles. Roman sweeps fresh kindling into the firepit. “Again.” 

Virgil backs up several feet. 

*~*~*~*~*

It takes about ten days for Thomas to be able to call his fire reliably. Roman needles him through the first few attempts, poking and prodding until Thomas screams in frustration and incinerates whatever’s closest to him. Eventually, however, he gains the ability to bend flames without fifteen minutes of Roman’s prompting. 

“You did well,” Roman tells him. “Now, we work on training that fire. Producing it is one thing, but controlling it is another. For that, we go inland.” 

“What? Why?” 

“There’s a Fire Nation temple on this island,” Roman says. “It’s not, like, strictly necessary to go there, but I always found that being connected to the tradition of fire benders before me helped sharpen my focus.” 

“Sounds cool,” Thomas says. Virgil thinks back to the temple where he’d found and healed the dragon. He’s glad they won’t be walking in on that fiasco. “Are we the only ones going?” 

“I want to go!” Patton says eagerly. “I’ve never seen a Fire Nation temple before!” 

“I would also like to visit an example of Fire Nation architecture,” Logan offers. “I am sure it will be fascinating.” 

They turn to face Virgil. “Vee? You coming?” Virgil’s already seen the Fire Nation temple, but he’s not too proud to admit that it was beautiful. He wonders if there are other secrets that the temple holds, secrets that will only reveal themselves in the presence of a fire bender. 

Plus, he’s not exactly keen on everyone else going off on an adventure without him. 

“Yeah, of course I am.” Roman grins. 

*~*~*~*~*

The cliff is much easier to scale the second time around. Before any of them can attempt to problem solve, Logan steps forward. Within a minute, he’s earth bended a set of stairs leading up the gleaming cliffside. “Will these suffice?” 

“Nicely done, Rocky!” Roman says, ruffling Logan’s hair. Logan hides his pleased smile, but Virgil catches a glimpse as he heads up the stairs. 

The temple is just as beautiful the second time around. Logan and Thomas bend a chute in the cliff, allowing them all to slide down to the entrance of the temple. “It’s beautiful,” Roman breathes. “It’s been neglected . . . forgotten about . . . but it’s still beautiful.” He reaches out towards the front door, carefully places his hand on the intricate wooden panelling. “There was one of these in the palace, but it wasn’t so intricately decorated. My father didn’t believe in taking care of temples like this, in honoring tradition. He only believes in power.” His voice is shaking. 

“We know not all fire benders are like that,” Virgil says softly. “We know you’re different.” 

Roman takes a deep breath. “Let’s go inside.” 

Once they step inside, Patton frowns. “It’s pitch black in here!” 

“Oh, no,” Logan deadpans. “How terrible, to not be able to see anything. How frightening.” Patton winces guiltily before Logan snorts and socks him in the arm. “Kidding. I do not take offense.” 

“Don’t worry about that,” Roman says. Virgil can barely see his silhouette in the dark, but then a flame arcs through the air, following the path of Roman’s foot as he bends. The flame dances along the rows of torches, illuminating the hallway. “Shall we?” 

Roman trails his fingertips over the murals carved into the walls as they walk. He’s vibrating like a little kid, but there’s something solemn and reverent in the way he touches things. “These murals tell the history of my people,” he whispers. He doesn’t need to, but Virgil feels the atmosphere of the temple the way he’s sure Roman does. It feels like a place for whispering. “They tell how the dragons taught us to fire bend. I wish I could see one . . .”

Virgil thinks of the last time he was here, and prays that they don’t see another dragon. 

When they enter the central chamber, it is empty and darkened. Roman steps into the center, humming softly to himself, before glancing upward. “I think I can open it . . .”

“Open what?” 

“All Fire Nation temples have a hatch in the ceiling that opens to let the sunlight in. That’s the source of our bending powers, is the spirit of the sun. There’s an intricate set of bending steps you have to do to open the hatch, it’s considered sacred. Fire Sages are usually the only ones who can do it, but they teach it to royalty as well.” Roman frowns. 

“What is it?” 

“Typically, you need two fire benders to open the hatch . . .” 

“I can help,” Thomas offers. 

“No, you’re not skilled enough outside of the Avatar state to do it. I can try and do it on my own, but I’m not super optimistic.” 

“You have to try!” Patton cheers. Someone snorts derisively from the darkness of the temple. Roman narrows his eyes, shifting to an attack stance. Virgil lets a knife drop into his hand; Patton and Logan shift into bending stances; Logan steps in front of Thomas, who settles into an earth bending stance of his own. 

Something crackles as white lines begin to trace in the dark. Roman’s face shifts from caution to shock. “Get down!” he shouts, moments before a lightning bolt sails over his head and slams into the wall. It fizzles out harmlessly against the stone, and Roman shifts back to a bending stance. “Show yourself!” Virgil’s blood runs cold. Another fire bender. They’ve been found.  

Another lightning bolt shoots out of the darkness, heading towards Roman. He doesn’t move, and Virgil is about to shove him out of the way when the lightning bolt strikes the stone right in front of Roman. Virgil frowns; Roman said lightning bending was rare, something only skilled fire benders could do. Whoever’s bending in the dark has missed them, not once but twice. Either they’re a terrible shot, or . . . 

They’re missing on purpose. 

Roman takes a step towards the darkness, and then another. “Show yourself,” he repeats, voice just a little softer. 

“Bad idea,” Virgil warns, voice low. Something shifts in the darkness, snarling, and then a dark blur throws itself onto Roman. It tackles him to the ground, knocking him flat on his back. Roman lets out a winded noise as he rolls with his attacker, trying to pin them down. Virgil slips a throwing knife into his hand, pinning it between his index and middle fingers, but he can’t get a clear shot on Roman’s attacker to throw it. 

Finally, they stop moving. Roman is on his back, his attacker perched proudly on his stomach. Virgil is ready to attack, but freezes when he sees that Roman isn’t staring up at his attacker with fear or anger or concern. His face is soft, and open, and looks almost . . . hopeful. Virgil’s eyes slide to Roman’s attacker, and he does a double take. 

Roman is being pinned to the ground by . . . himself?

A few more seconds clears his vision; the boy pinning Roman looks very similar to his friend, but there are differences. He has a white streak of hair in his bangs, the wispy beginnings of a mustache, a gap between his front teeth. There’s something slightly unhinged glinting in his eyes as he grins. 

“Remus?” Roman breathes. The name rings a bell. Remus. Roman’s twin brother. The one who told them about this island.  

“The one and only!” Remus crows. He hops up off of Roman, eyes settling on Virgil and the others. He bows exaggeratedly, crossing one foot behind the other, grinning up at them with something just shy of mania. Roman rolls to his feet and yanks Remus into a hug. 

“Rem!” Roman’s fist grips Remus’s shirt so tightly that his knuckles are turning white, and Remus holds his brother just as tightly. “You’re okay! After I left, I was so worried Father would do something to you, are you - are you okay?!” 

“I’m okay,” Remus says softly. “I’m okay, Ro, and Deedee is too. He’s safe.” 

“Is he here too?!” Roman gasps hopefully. Remus shakes his head. 

“He’s not strong enough to leave the ship’s quarters. Father did a number on him. But he’s alive, and he misses you. A lot.”

“I miss him too,” Roman says, eyes watering. He pulls back from the hug just enough to study Remus’s face. “Your hair - what happened?” 

“Lightning mishap.” 

“You can bend lightning now?! You absolute fucker!” Roman laughs, dragging Remus back into his arms. “I can’t believe you figured it out first!” Remus grins, hugging his twin. “How did you get here? We flew in, but -”

“I took a rowboat.” 

“Are you crazy?! You came in by sea? You could have been killed!” 

“I know! It would have been so exciting!” Remus chirps, bouncing and flapping his hands. “But I knew you were gonna be here, and I missed you!” 

“That was a stupid risk!” 

“Saving the Avatar and his baby brother from Father’s wrath was a stupid risk, too. Must run in the family.” 

Roman punches his brother in the chest. Remus laughs, rolling with the blow and kicking Roman’s feet out from under him. Roman lands flat on his back, laughing breathlessly. Virgil lets his knife slide back into its sheath. Remus still sets him on edge, but Roman looks more at ease than Virgil’s ever seen him (with the possible exception of when his Uncle Emile tumbled out of those bushes). 

It’s nice to see him relax.

*~*~*~*~*

Later, after Remus and Roman have performed and intricate series of dance-like fire bending steps and opened the roof hatch, letting the sun come pouring in, they all sit together. Remus and Roman are pressed close together, literally joined at the hip. 

“I can’t stay much longer,” Remus says regretfully. “I’m going to have to head out today if I’m to make it back to the warship before the sea becomes unnavigable.” 

“Why risk it at all?” Roman asks. 

“We’re checking all the outlying Fire Nation islands for you. Your flying sky beast was spotted by some locals on the shore. I volunteered because I knew it was the most dangerous island to look for. The crew thinks it was a noble gesture, they don’t suspect me.” 

“But if they do,” Roman says, “what will they do to you?”

Remus grins, sharp and unhinged. “I can do worse back to them, tenfold. Trust me. And they won’t find anything out.” 

“Why come yourself?” Virgil asks. “Why not send your Uncle?” 

Remus’s grin fades. “I missed Ro. We’ve never been apart this long, it’s . . . I hate it. It’s like someone ripped my arm and leg out and then beat me over the head with it.” 

“I hate it too,” Roman says. He grips Remus’s hand tightly. “I’m so sorry that I left you.” 

“Hey, if Dee and I coulda escaped with you, we would have,” Remus shrugs. “You know that, right?”

“Yeah.” 

“Someone has to take care of him until you get back. And Dee’s cool, I don’t mind.” Remus turns to regard Thomas, tilting his head to the side. “So how good of an Avatar are you?” 

“I’ve mastered earth bending,” Thomas says. “Roman is teaching me to master fire. Air is next, then water.” Remus winces. “What?” 

“You might wanna hurry that time table up a little. There aren’t any water benders left at the South Pole.” 

“I know,” Virgil says coolly. “I’m from the South Pole.” 

“Father is planning something,” Remus says, gripping Roman’s hand back. “He keeps meeting with dignitaries from the Air Nomads, and I’m not sure why. He told me before I left that he was trying to broker peace, but -”

“But Father has never brokered a peace in his entire life,” Roman finishes. “That’s suspicious.” 

“There’s more. I think once he finishes with whatever he’s doing with the Air Nomads, he’s planning an assault on the Northern Water Tribe.” 

“How is he going to do that?” 

“With the Air Nomads’ help?” 

“My people would never aid in something like that,” Patton spits. Remus shrugs. 

“I’m not accusing you of anything. I’m just saying, you don’t know what Father is capable of the way that Roman and I do. He’s capable of atrocities beyond your comprehension. He took Mother away from us. He took Roman away from me. He’s - he’s taking everyone I’ve ever loved.” 

“He won’t take me,” Roman promises. “We might not physically be with each other, but as soon as the war is over I’ll come home.” 

“You’ll have to kill Father for that to happen,” Remus says. “You’ll have to win the war.” 

“We will.” Roman’s eyes are blazing, and Remus stares into them for a moment before nodding. 

“I believe you.” 

“Good.” Remus stands up. “Don’t accompany me to the shoreline. The ship’s crew are watching through the onboard telescope, and if they see you they’ll storm the island. Wait until after sundown, we’ll be long gone by then. If plans change, I’ll send Dragon.”

“You better be taking care of him. And Dolos.” 

“Please, Roro. I’m not taking care of anyone. Uncle Emile is keeping us all alive.” Roman heaves an exaggerated sigh. 

“I don’t know why I expected better.” He stands up as well, gripping Remus’s shoulders. “Promise me that you’ll be careful?” 

“I’m never careful, brother,” Remus laughs. They pull into another tight hug before Remus is disappearing down the hallway like a shadow. Roman watches him go with a wistful, hungry expression on his face before turning around to stare at Thomas with renewed fire. 

“You heard my brother. We have a lot of work to do.” 

[milomeepit]

been thinkin bout super aus lately so have this

Roman Cheng- Prince Charming

- Roman has the power of charmspeak (being able to persuade and kinda hypnotize people - He also has a stutter unless he’s using charmspeak - He’s kinda round and huggable and strong and loves picking up people in bear hugs - Learned sign language for when his stutter gets really bad - His mom is a pastry chef and he’s an apprentice at her bakery - He highkey lives for the adoration of the citizens and has very nearly blown his cover several times over it

Virgil Todini- Phobophobia - Virgil can bring people’s fears into hyperfocus and make them too anxious to fight - His moms live in Italy and visit every couple of months - He’s doing an arts course online and works in a bookstore - He,,,,, tol. Floppy hair boy - Is an actual gremlin when it comes to tidying and self care but he tries - That said, if one of his friends or teammates hasn’t eaten he will probably shove a sandwich down their throat

Logan Sierra- Mirage - Logan has the power to create illusions for a person - Like, mid-fight, he’ll make someone think they’re in the middle of the arctic, freezing, with lashing wind and rain - L a n k y  trash man - His dad is a real estate agent and his younger brother is in middle school - Logan is doing an engineering course - Highkey blames his dad for his mother ditching them when he was younger - “Roman, no, you can’t go pose in front of that mural, someone might realise you’re- Roman, NO.”

Patton Parker- Pupperteer - Patton has empath powers and can control people’s thoughts, feelings and actions - He’s a short bean and often wears heeled boots to look taller - Would burn down a house for A Good Cup Of Tea - Loves cooking! It’s his stress reliever - Grew up in the foster care system - He wants: snuggles. He receives: struggles. - Lowkey has a really scary temper

Dee Medea- Mr Masquerade - Dee is a shapeshifter. He can hold the form of any living creature for up to three days. The only indication is his eyes being his usual colour. - Heterochromia!!! Blue and gold - His parent is aware of his powers and is (mostly) chill with it - Cue them showing up on his doorstep after seeing him throw a car on the news and smacking him over the head with a magazine - He’s a Nerd(tm) especially for video games

[mind-writing0]

~Chapter 10~

Don’t be afraid to ask if you want me to add you to the taglist!!

The food at the palace was exquisitely indescribable. With its multiple-course meals, the chefs seemed to know exactly what the Selected wanted.

Food was indeed the right motivation to stay. Virgil was practically groaning at the taste of such flavorful delicacies, though no one judged him as they felt the same way. After they were done with lunch, dessert was put out, and Virgil had never experienced finer pastries. These strawberry delights made the ones from home taste like plastic.

"Sir Virgil?" A voice snapped him out of his thoughts. This voice was teasing, playful, and across the room. Virgil looked up to see Prince Roman addressing him directly. He nearly choked on his food, and he made a note to tell his new friend not to do that.

"Yes, Your Majesty?" Virgil finally got out after what felt like forever, as he made a move to use all the unnecessary table appliances at his disposal.

"Are you enjoying the food?" Roman grinned, his features seeming more boyish than usual as a boy of eighteen.

"Oh, um, yes, Your Highness. I have a sister back home who loves sweets, and I'm sure these would make her cry, they're so good," Virgil replied, his heart pounding hard at the realization that everyone in the room was silently watching the conversation with heads turning as if they were attending a tennis match.

Roman raised his eyebrows, "You believe she would cry?"

"Yes."

"Would you care to wager on it? You seem good at making deals," He winked, and King James gave him a dark look, like he understood but didn't appreciate their inside joke.

Virgil hoped that wasn't the case. He rested his hands in his lap and looked down at them awkwardly. "With all due respect, I don't have any money, Your Majesty."

"How about we arrange something different, then? If she does not cry, as I will place my bet, then you owe me a walk across the gardens. You seem to like the outdoors. And what is it that you wish for on your side of the wager, Sir Virgil?" Roman asked.

Virgil's stomach twisted as everyone's eyes fell on him. What could he possibly ask of the man that could give him anything in the entire palace?

"I want to wear jeans for a week," he said, determined to keep a poker face, even when he heard laughter.

"Jeans?" Roman smiled uncertainly. "Alright. Justin," he gestured to a butler near his table. "Would you please pack a basket of pastries to send to the sir's family, and have an attendant stay to be sure if she cries or not? Sir Virgil may also write a letter for his family to go with it, if he wishes."

"Yes, Your Majesty," The butler bowed, and he hurried out of the dining hall. Virgil beamed after him, filled with bliss denial. In about an hour, he would be sending words about his trip to Valerie.

"In fact, you all should write to your families, and tell them about the trip. I'm sure they would love to hear from you." The prince announced, and the other Selected didn't seem so dejected after they were addressed.

After lunch, they all went to the Men's Room to write to their families. Virgil sat next to Lance on a love seat, and Bill took the TV remote selfishly.

Dear Valerie, How did you like the pastries? Aren't they amazing enough to make you cry? The trip here has been great, I think. The plane is cool, and, don't get your hopes up, but I hope you could fly here one day. The food is indescribable, and I'll try to send more. They're sending checks, so make sure you keep at least one of your amazing paintings. And, yes, I have met Prince Roman. Yes, he's handsome and polite. But he's also kind of posh, which I guess I expected. No, I'm not sure if he likes me. He said I was "interesting," whatever that means. He talked to me in front of everyone because he knew I liked the pastries. I think he's mocking me. Whatever. I hope mom's not giving you too hard of a time. I love you, Virgil.

Virgil handed the note to a nearby butler, and he left hurriedly. Soon, everyone else turned in letters. They were left to hang out for the day, and some explored the castle in the company of guards.

A few days later, shortly after a history lesson with Miss Emily, a letter arrived by maid to the Men's Room. Two letters, actually, both of which were addressed to Virgil. He opened the one with writing that was less familiar first:

Dear Virgil, Hello, it's Dylan. It's been a while since I've spoken to you, I know, but I've been very busy with clients. I saw on the Report that you became one of the Selected. Congratulations! I do want to ask, as your brother, that you tell the royal family about me and my successful business? Thank you in advance. -Dylan

Virgil crumpled up the note and shoved it in his suit jacket pocket. If Dylan cared about the importance of family so much, he should have done the right thing in the first place. Virgil opened the second letter:

Dear Virgil, Oh my gosh, the pastries were amazing, please send more!! The palace-person wanted to see if I'd cry for some reason, but I didn't. I'm glad to hear you're having fun, sort of. Things are alright, here at home. People really want to hire Mom and I know, because we're related to you, so there's a lot of money coming in! On another, more important note: has your affection for Prince Roman only grown since your letter? I'm sure it has, despite you probably acting all emo. Have you two danced like in the fairytales? Is he a good kisser? This is all for my research and comparing you to the other selected. I can't wait for the Report tomorrow! Anyway, Mom wants me to get back to painting. I love you, bye! ~Valerie

Virgil smiled at the note, though he blushed a bright pink at the mention of dancing and kissing. It had only been a few days, Roman hadn't asked any of them on a date, and Virgil was far from feeling that way for him!

"What are you blushing at?" Lance asked, grinning as he scooted over to poke Virgil's side. He glanced at the note. "Aw, that's cute! Is that your sister? Yeah, I have a lot of siblings and nieces and nephews writing to me too." He held up several letters that had been delivered to him later that day. 

Virgil was going to reply when a maid came by with yet another letter for him. He unfolded a small, fancy looking cream-colored slip of paper to read:

Looks like you lost this bet. Maybe you'll win the next one. I'll pick you up at your room at six for your first date. —Prince Roman❤

Drawn beside it was a small heart that made Virgil roll his eyes and scoff. Not wanting Lance to see the embarrassing note, Virgil got up and walked back to his room.

He informed his maids that he had lost the bet, which they giggled at, and they helped him get ready. There were several different variations of tuxes in his closet, all made his size due to him filling out such questions on the entree form. He decided on a dark purple suit jacket, close to the black he had to wear earlier. By then it was five, so he picked up one of the books on the expansive shelf and began to read.

At six PM sharp, there was a knock on his room door.

"I believe, Sir Virgil, that the person that knocked on the door is your boyfriend?" Katie smirked from her place at a small table where she was playing a card game with Allura. From the nice gestures a few days ago, Virgil and his maids were almost as friendly with each other as he was with Lance.

"Oh, yes, the many of my dreams." Virgil sighed in a dreamy and completely sarcastic way, and his overall dreading tone caused his maids to laugh again. He checked his hair in the mirror for good measure, his purple streaks nearly as bright as when he first got them done, and he answered the door. 

"The man of your dreams has arrived," Prince Roman announced jokingly, understanding Virgil's forever-sarcastic tone even on the other side of the door. He bowed and held out his suited arm, "Are you ready?"

"Yep," Virgil said, his act of being regal only going so far. He joined Roman in the hall and walked down a bit before Roman spoke up.

"For the sake of appearances, would you please take my arm?" Roman asked. Virgil complied and held the prince's arm as though they were a real royal couple. He was surprised that under the bulky suit, it seemed as though Prince Roman had muscle, unlike himself. Why would someone who worked at a desk all day have muscle?

A few of the Selected had their doors open or were walking down the hall, and they frowned at the sight of the prince and their competition together.

"So, Virgil, your sister Valerie didn't cry?" Roman asked rhetorically, grinning as he led him down another hall.

"No. I can't believe she did that to me, the little rascal! But yeah, she loved them. Thank you." Virgil said, nearly leaning into Roman.

"My pleasure, as I am positive it won your family’s favor."

"You being the Prince won my family's favor." Virgil rolled his eyes. 

Roman's look matched mock surprise. "Oh, really? Well, I'm glad. Do tell me, what is your family like?" 

"Well... there's my mom," Virgil frowned, "She's kind of a jerk, and she gives the worst advice, so... I don't really like her."

"I get that," Roman replied quietly.

"What do you mean?" Virgil asked, "Do you and the Queen not have a good relationship?"

"Oh, no. I love my mother. My father, on the other hand... he can be a little strict." He seemed tense. "Though I guess that's to be expected out of King James. Anyway, who's after your mother?"

"Um... after my mom... well, my dad left when I was little. He and my mom had had two boys, then decided to quit. When my mom became pregnant with Vally, well... he decided to quit. I haven't seen him since. It's not, like, a big deal or anything, though."

"I see," Roman nodded, "I am sorry to hear that. Now, is your brother older or younger?"

"Older," Virgil replied shakily, "I don't really like him either. See, he's a sculptor, and he was providing for us, but... one day he got a lot of money from a Two, and... he got a little high on the fame. You probably know him, too. His name is Dylan Singer."

"Dylan Singer," Roman mouthed, then he nodded. "Yes, a few family friends have his pieces, but I'll be sure to never even look at one, for your sake."

Virgil chuckled nervously, "Yeah, thanks. You know, you don't have to be all... posh and stuff. But, anyway my sister Valerie... she's thirteen, and a really talented painter—"

"I know." Roman grinned his eyes shining as if he held a secret.

"What do you mean?" Virgil asked cautiously.

"Well..." Roman sighed, not looking at Virgil. "I might have gotten a letter from a young girl who claims to be your sister."

"No," Virgil's heart dropped, and his eyes were wide.

"Along with a very beautiful painting." Roman smiled at Virgil's horrified red face.

"No!" Virgil laughed. "Oh my god, no, that's not what I meant when I said she could keep a painting! That's so embarrassing! Please don't kick me out because of her."

Roman gasped in mock offense, "On the contrary, I found it adorable! It would be an honor to meet her. Oh, here we are." They had reached the doors. A guard opened the door to the gardens, where they were met with cool fresh air and a calm night. A TV crew attempted to follow them, but Roman waved them away. They walked to a place of seclusion.

"I mean, I'm really grateful you're keeping me here." Virgil said, "But why? It just seems out of pity or something. What do you really want, anyway?"

Roman stopped. Being taller than the black haired boy, he leaned down a bit to brush a curl behind his ear. "I'll tell you exactly what I want Virgil..."

In hindsight, it was instinct. Instinct and advice from his mother. She had told him to do it if he felt in danger, and this time there were definite signs. The dark, secluded area, sending the camera crew and anyone in sight away. Making a move when Virgil had said no to his flirtations a few days ago... So it was instinct. But that didn't make it right.

In a fight-or-flight move, Virgil jolted his knee up and hit the Prince right in the—

"What the hell?!" Prince Roman shouted, and some guards who had heard the noise came out of the palace. Upon seeing the Prince injured on the ground, while Virgil looked guilty, they reached for their guns. 

"H-hold on, men." Prince Roman stood, grimacing. There was obviously a... a misunderstanding, right, Virgil?"

Virgil stood silently, his eyes welling with tears.

"Virgil, what did you think I was going to do?"

The black-haired boy shook his head, still too overwhelmed to speak. Roman understood the message.

"You thought I'd... you thought I would... in public?! Jesus, Christ, I'm a gentleman!" Roman brushed off his suit, his face flushed red. "Of all the things you've... that's enough. You'll be taking dinner in your room tonight. I... I need some time. Goodnight, Virgil."

Roman walked off furiously, leaving Virgil in yet another filling pool of regret.

Virgil stayed out in the garden for a while. Rocking in the same bench-swing where he'd met Prince Roman. He'd made a horrible mistake, but could he be blamed? Could he make up for it?

Dejected and tear-stained, Virgil walked back to his room. He felt as though all the eyes in the world were on him, though what he wanted most was to disappear.

When he got to his room, a package lay waiting on his bed. It was a large box with a purple bow, and a small note was taped on the top.

Here, I believe these jeans are now yours. In her not it read "my eyes watered, but I didn't cry" so I believe that makes both of us winners. You are... something else, Virgil. Something true, yet not in a pure or angelic way. I really do wish we could work everything out, Virgil. You are undeniably something special. - Prince Roman

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