#sasi fanfiction

[canonically47]

did YOU enjoy that one 2.9k words oneshot of logan spanking remus with the paddle? for. whatever reason??!!

WELL GUESS WHAT!! A SECOND PART HAS HIT AO3!!!!

READ HERE !!!!!! :D

and stay tuned for when they fuck confess. who said fuck. who s- YOU. GET BACK HERE (chases after myself)

THIRD PART HERE !!!

[edupunkn00b]

Roomies, Ch. 6: Casa

Prev - Casa - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 3217 - Rated: T - CW: innuendo (anyone surprised?) - Written for @intrualityweek 2024: Domestic

And just like that, it's time to go home for winter break.

“They’re coming, they’re coming, they’re coming!” Patton rushed back to their table in the dining hall, giddy energy propelling him forward. 

While Re’d had nearly the entire finals week free from exams—”There’s gotta be some upside to spending twelve hours a day in the ceramics room!”—Patton had only finished his last final that morning. Between the crush of exams and picking up extra shifts in the Student Services Center, Patton had been frazzled.

But Re had made good use of all that free time with more than a few ideas for how they could both blow off a little steam.

“They’re coming!” he whispered one last time as he slid down in his chair next to Re. 

“They are?” Re laughed, eyebrows dancing. “Oooh, and you wanna watch? Kinky.”

Patton covered a giggle and bumped Re’s shoulder. “Oh, stop,” he said, still grinning. He turned back to the window and gasped. “They’re looking this way—hide!”

Together, they scrunched low in their seats, partially hidden behind a support beam. Peering just over the window ledge, they watched Ro and Logan approach the snow-covered tree outside the dining hall window. The tree was festooned in sparkly blue and red bows. On the lowest bough hung a small package tied to an enormous gift tag reading “Merry Christmas, RoLo”. There really wasn’t much of a question of whether the couple would stop.

It was merely a question of how long they had to snap a picture.

“Do you have it?” Patton asked, watching Re over his shoulder as he fiddled with his phone’s camera.

“Oh, yeah,” Re nodded as Ro reached for the shiny red package. “Now we just have to wait—”

Suddenly, Logan yanked him back, but Ro’s grip on the gift was strong. Pulling on it brought down the carefully balanced upper branch covered in snow and the pair was dusted in a thick coat of fresh—and cold—powder.

“Got ‘em!” Re cheered, both hands raised in the air. Just in time for Ro and Logan to look their way. Fuming, Ro shook snow from his hair and mimed a throttling motion with both hands. “Uh-oh,” he said, climbing over the back of his chair and grabbing Patton’s hand. “Run, Pattycake!”

Laughing, they ran together through the dining hall and out the back door. “Sorry!” Patton called over his shoulder when they knocked into a table, tipping over a—thankfully—empty water cup.

Re pushed through the door and they dashed out behind a row of snow-covered bushes, hands over their mouths to stifle their laughter. “Did they follow us?” Re whispered, peeking up over the top of the hedge.

“I don’t think so,” Patton whispered back, shaking his head.

“No, we didn’t,” Logan deadpanned behind them.

They turned as one, looking up at a snow-covered Ro and Logan glaring down at them. Ro held a giant mound of snow in his arms. “Payback’s a bitch, little bro,” Roman said, his exaggerated scowl not quite hiding the smile behind his eyes.

“Takes a bitch to know a bitch,” Re laughed as Roman heaved the snow at them. Patton ducked but Re dodged too slowly, taking the brunt of the snow Ro had aimed at them both.

“Man down! Man down!” he cried, still laughing. “I see a light! Oh, it’s so beautiful!” Rolling onto his belly, he winked at Patton through his moans. Sunlight sparkled in the snow crusted over his hair and face. Even his mustache gleamed white on the edges, quickly melting with the heat of each breath. 

Cheeks bright pink from the cold, Re grinned up at him and put a creak in his voice. “Pattycake… Go on without me!” he called dramatically even as he gathered snow and squeezed it into a ball.

“Alas, poor Remus!” Patton stifled his laughter, curling over him to help disguise Re’s work. Re passed him the first snowball then quickly formed another. “The tragedy! Gone before your time!” Patton continued in a wail. “Now?” he whispered when Re finished the second snowball.

“Now,” he whispered back and turned, winding up his arm.

Logan and Ro were ready, two snowballs apiece. Logan threw the first salvo and the powdery snow exploded against Re’s chest. “Abort, abort, abort!” Re laughed, pushing up to his feet and tossing his snowball haphazardly over his shoulder.

He managed to beam Ro in the leg.

Patton flung his snowball in their assailants’ general direction before running back to the dining hall. Re slowed to scoop up another fistful and Ro flung his second snowball. It just barely missed and Re stuck out his tongue at his brother. Logan rearmed them, squeezing a particularly large batch of snow and grinning evilly at them.

“Run!” Patton said and grabbed Re’s hand. Together, they raced back to their dorm, making it to the top of the steps just before Ro and Logan reached them.

“Ha!” Re shouted from the tiny landing. “Home base!” After the second water balloon incident, Logan and Patton had gotten the twins to agree that the dorms were out-of-bounds for their games. Surprisingly, they’d stuck to the rules, even now when nothing but three cement steps prevented Ro and Logan from clobbering them with snow.

“Eventually you’ll have to leave to go to dinner,” Ro said, setting down the snowballs in his hands and beginning to make more.

Crouching down next to him, Logan squeezed Ro’s shoulder through his coat. “Your parents will be here in fewer than six hours,” he reminded him. “And we haven't yet packed,” he added with a smile when Ro stood, arms crossed over his chest as his scowl melted into a pout. “It’s the first snow, we’ll get them back later.”

“Yeah, and we’ll be ready for you when you try!” Re called back.

“Will we?” Patton asked quietly.

Re just laughed. “Nah, but neither will they.”

~

Luckily, most of their dorm had left for their homes before lunch that day, so the laundry room was emptier than usual that afternoon. He and Re had no problem getting through the dirty clothes that had piled up in the back of their closet.

The final washer stuttered to a stop and he and Re worked together to jam one last load of (mostly) Re’s clothes into the dryer.

“Thanks for helping me, Pat,” Re grinned, slamming the dryer shut and pushing it up to High Heat. “My mom said I’d hafta do the whole family’s laundry over Christmas break if I showed up with a bag full of dirty clothes again.” He stuck out his tongue like he might gag. “You saved me from getting stuck folding His Royal Highnessesses’ boxers.”

Shaking his head, Patton laughed. According to Ro’s frequent complaints, Re’s mom doted on him and Patton was pretty sure it had been an idle threat. “It’s really no problem,” he said, touching the glass with the back of his hand to be sure they hadn’t picked one of the laundry room’s duds. It was already warming. “It means I get to hang out a little bit more with my favorite roomie before break. Besides, I got to sneak in my jacket, too.” Ro and Logan had ambushed them on their way to an early dinner at the dining hall, leaving their clothes covered in cold, drippy snow. 

It was going to be a long—and fun—winter. He just had to get through break and then they’d all come back and he and Re could plan their revenge.

Re launched himself up on top of an empty washer and began to fold the pile of clean laundry on the machine next to him. “So how did you get packed up so quick?” he asked, eyeing the stacks of clothes he still had to sort through and pack up before his mom picked them up in her truck. Ro’s car would be a little too snug for all three plus two weeks’ worth of their stuff.

“But, Mamí, you don’t have to drive all the way up. Let RoLo take his car. I’ve got the saddlebags on my motorcycle and—”

Re had winced, phone held out at arms’ distance when Mrs. Reyes’ voice spilled from the speaker describing in vivid detail all the many, many ways he could be hurt riding his motorcycle over icy roads on his way home. Re’d met his eyes with a sheepish smile and Patton covered his laughter.

“She’s got a point,” he mouthed and Re nodded with a happy eyeroll.

“Ai, sí… Bien, Mamí,” Re had finally conceded. “See you at seven. Thank you.”

Patton dragged over a footstool to boost himself up onto the washer on the other side of Re’s clean clothes. He shrugged and pulled a bright green tee from the pile. “I guess I didn’t have as much I needed to pack,” he said, looking down as he lined up the hem. At least it wasn’t a complete lie.

Re hummed, and Patton waited for a joke about wearing skimpy clothes or a secret plan to spend winter break going streaking. But he just continued to fold. 

“Hey, it means I can help you get ready, right?” Patton filled the silence, looking up to give Re a little grin.

Re was watching him, folding jeans on autopilot. The wrinkle between his eyebrows relaxed and he slowly grinned. “Yeah.” He bumped the side of his boot against Patton’s sneaker and nodded. “Your company’s plenty, though… You know that, right?” His face went serious again and he gestured around the laundry room before looking back at him, meeting his gaze. Even the crummy fluorescent lights couldn’t dull the green in Re’s eyes. “You don’t hafta… do anything. You could just hang out with me. Relax.”

“I know.” Patton shrugged again, a warm flicker growing in his belly when Re smiled again. “But I can always do both.”

~ 

“Almost got it…” Straddling his last duffel bag full of clothes and art supplies, Remus grunted, pulling the edges of the bag closer together as Pat worked the zipper up tooth by tooth. After one last tug, he managed to get both sides together and, with a cute little cheer, Pat got the zipper all the way to the end. 

“Oh, yeah! Teamwork!” he laughed, plopping down on the bed next to him.

Remus rocked to the side and bumped his shoulder. “Makes the dream work.” He didn’t pull all the way back and leaned lightly against his side.

But Pat didn’t move away either. Smiling, Remus closed his eyes and relished the warm mix of peach and lavender from Pat’s shampoo and the dryer sheets from the laundry room. It turned out the hardest part of packing for break was getting everything to fit in your bags again. He knew he’d picked up a couple things thrifting with Pat, and maybe he was overpacking, but… 

After a while, Pat shifted, looking around the room and Remus followed his gaze at the mostly-empty closet and the oversized duffel already packed and shoved up against the wall. 

“Lotta stuff,” he chuckled, head tilted until his curls tickled Remus’ arm.

Remus shrugged. “Yeah. Two weeks is a long time.” 

“Yeah,” he agreed, more breath than voice.

Pat had been vague about when he could come by the house to hang out over break. ‘Family stuff.’ It sounded like they might all be traveling to see some father’s brother’s nephew’s cousin out in Podunk as soon as he got back to the neighborhood.

Two weeks was gonna be a long fucking time without him.

“So, uh,” he started and Pat sat up a little straighter, patting the bag next to him. Remus cracked his knuckles, the imagined sensation of wrapping his arm around Pat’s waist and pulling close again almost too strong to ignore. “What time—”

Pat tilted his head, reading Remus’ watch sideways and nodded. “It’s six twenty-five,” he said, then gave him a confused little smile when Remus shook his head. “Wait, ‘what time’ what?“

He grinned, Pat’s smile knocking away some of the icicles in his chest. “What time are your parents picking you up tonight?”

“Oh,” Pat looked away. “Um, they… they probably won’t get here tonight. Um, probably… um a couple days? No later than next week.”

“What?” Remus jumped up and Pat stared up at him, mouth open. “Next week?!” 

“Yeah,” he nodded and looked down at the floor. “They, um, they… they can’t make it any earlier. Some… some f—flight problem.”

“But, Pat, campus is closing. The gym, the library, even the dining hall!” Remus’ chest tightened as he looked around their tiny room, imagining Pat cooped up in there all alone for almost a week. That’s when his eyes fell on the notice slipped under all their doors that morning, reminding them to leave the water dripping in the sink so the pipes wouldn’t freeze when they shut off the furnaces. “You won’t even have fucking heat!” Remus shook his head. “Pattycake, you can’t—”

“Knock, knock!” Mamí’s voice sounded from the other side of the door followed by a light triple knock. “Does somebody need a ride home?” she called.

With a little half-shrug, Pat got up and opened the door. “Mrs. Reyes!” he said, bright but… brittle. “It’s so good to see you!”

“Ay, mí solecito!,” she crooned his old nickname, ruffling the golden hair that inspired it. [ ‘My little sun.’ ] “Have you gotten taller? Absolutely unfair!” she laughed and pulled him into a hug. She was right. He was taller than her now.

Pat hugged her right back, bowing his head and letting his cheek rest on her shoulder. He stayed like that a long time and Remus thought Pat might’ve been hoping he would forget what they’d been talking about. Until he caught the little wobble in Pat’s lips when Mamí was the one to finally pull away.

“Oh, no. Sorry, Re,” he laughed, voice tight as he backed away. “I got first hug.”

“I’ve got plenty more where that one came from,” Mamí said, flinging her arms around Remus’s middle. “Even for this garrochón!” [ giant ] 

Remus dwarfed his mother, the top of her head just reaching the midpoint of his sternum, so she couldn’t see Pat’s smile falter before he busied himself with the bag they’d just finished packing. “You’re early, Mamí,” Remus said, pulling away just enough to see her face.

“Sí, I wanted to see you before you started playing the cabrón around your brother.” Holding his face between her hands, she peered closely into his eyes. “Mijo, you are feeling better now? Verdad?”

“Thanks to Pat, yeah,” he nodded, catching Pat’s eye when he got that confused little kink between his eyebrows. “I told my mom what you did.”

He shrugged, shaking his head. “It wasn’t anything special, I just…”

“Solecito, no.” She turned and reached for him, pulling Pat close so she held each of them, squished like a cookie between them. “You were just what our garrochón needed. Gracías.” 

Pat grinned and looked up at him, cheeks dusted a soft rose as he curled against his mother’s side. He nodded, a spark in his eyes. “I’d do it again.”

“Bueno.” Mamí laughed and kissed Pat’s forehead before turning to Remus and speaking quickly, “Tu corazónito tiene su propio corazón de león. Cuándo es la bo—” [ ‘Your little heart has his own lion’s heart. When is the wed—’ ]

“Ai, Mamí,” Remus interrupted before she could say what he feared she might. He searched Pat’s eyes for recognition but luckily he hadn’t caught more than a few words of what she said. 

“No sabe!” [ ‘He doesn’t know.’ ] he whispered when she pulled him close again.

She hummed, an apology or a rebuttal, Remus couldn’t really tell. Knowing Mamí, probably both. 

Still smiling, but with misty eyes, Pat moved away and retrieved the final packed bag from his bed. Remus pulled back, turning as he jerked his chin toward him. “Mamí, maybe you can help me convince Pat he can’t stay here all alone until his parents pick him up next week.”

“Re, I’ll be fine. I knew they w—couldn’t come tonight and I’m prepared,” he said, setting down the bag. He picked it up again and turned it, lining it up until it was parallel with Remus’ first bag. “I’ve got my electric blanket and—”

“Solecito, no,” Mamí interrupted, gently tugging the bag strap out of his hands. “No, you need to call them now. They’re closing the road.”

“What?” he and Pat cried in unison.

“They’re repaving,” she said. “There’s a big sign out at the highway exit and again at the front gates. The whole campus is closed for break, so they’re repaving. Everything starting tomorrow morning.”

Pat’s normally rosy cheeks paled and he sat down on his bed. “Well… they, um…” He licked his lips, looking between them. “B—but they can’t come tonight,” he said weakly, looking down at his hands.

“So we’ll just have to bring you to them,” Mamí said, smiling. “No problema, I’ll drop you off at home. It wouldn’t be the first time,” she added with a little laugh.

“You can’t! I—” Pat rose, shaking his head. “I mean—I—I don’t have my keys and they’re coming in from out of town. No-one’s home to let me in.”

Remus frowned, watching Pat fidget. Alarms blared in his head—If it were anyone else, he’d swear he was lying. But why would Pat lie about this?

“I’ll be fine,” he said again, a weak smile pressed onto his face. “Really. Come on, I’ll help you with your stuff.” Pat looked up at Mamí, nodding as he walked over and hefted the larger of Remus’ bags. “You’re going to hit the worst of the ferry traffic if you don’t go soon.”

“Mamí?” Remus asked quietly and she met his eyes. She saw something in Pat, too, and she nodded.

“Solecito, come home with us,” she said softly. “You can call your parents from our house and they can let you in whenever they get back.”

“I don’t want to be a bother,” Pat said, shaking his head, voice trembling. “I—I’d—I’d be in the way.”

“Pat, you’re never in the way.” 

“Sí, we have plenty of room, Solecito.”

Shoulders curled and arms wrapped around his belly, Pat didn’t speak, just looked down at the floor and took in a stuttering breath. He looked like he was about to cry. Fuck. Remus hadn’t wanted to scare him, just convince him to be somewhere safe while he waited for his parents to get home from wherever the fuck they thought was more important than where their son was. 

Moving carefully, like Pat was a nervous rabbit he might spook, Remus stepped closer. He held out his pinkie finger and smiled. “You can hate me later but I’m not leaving this room without you, Pattycake.”

Pat stared down at his curled finger for a long moment before looking up with wet eyes. Finally, he nodded and hooked their fingers together. “I could never hate you, Re,” he whispered.

Remus nodded one more time before releasing his pinkie and pulling down an empty bag from Patton’s side of the closet. “Good. Now let’s see how quick we can get you packed up. If we’re fast enough, I bet we can still be ready before RoLo is.”

[imnotgrimimjustagrumpyreaper]

@asocialaroace

Its the same fic I've unfortunately been chipping away at since 2020 and I'm mortified its still not done yet LOL. It's called The Mysterious Disappearance of Roman Grimm.

Since senior year of high-school Janus and Remus have been dating. it wasn't perfect in their shitty little apartment but they loved each other and they were happy...After Remus's proper gallery show gets absolutely panned by critics and then the gallery burns down taking his paintings with it, maybe not so happy anymore. Janus comes home from work one day to find his partner missing. No phone calls, no notes, no texts, no answers.

A year later Remus texts him out of the blue asking to reconnect.

Janus drives back to their old home town Sanderscreek to the house Remus has been sharing with his brother, a surprise to everyone, as they have a history of not getting along.

However, any reconnecting is put on hold when their old friends, now dectectives Patton and Logan turn up at the door to announce that Roman has gone missing. Remus is the prime suspect in what they think might just be a murder.

I've gotten all but the last chapter and the epilogue done. The last chapter is SO close. I JUST want to finish this, its not even that long or that good but its taken me forever. I LOVE this world. I love this world and its characters and their drama SO SO SO much. I love the relationships I built I love everything about this story, I think its still my favorite world I've ever made to play in <3.

[canvas-the-florist]

The Imitation Game

Ship(s): Analogical

Warnings: Major Character Death and Undeath, body horror, blood and injury, unreliable narrator, misunderstandings, and morally ambiguous Emile Picani

Summary: This is a Big Bang fic hosted by @tss-storytime. After the consequences of someone else’s actions, Logan finds himself moving into a new apartment to lie low. Despite knowing nothing about what happened, or what’s supposed to happen next, Logan complies. That is, until he begins to make new friends and new discoveries about who he is. And who he was supposed to be. Meanwhile Virgil is convinced that Patton's new neighbor is absolutely a murderer. And will do anything to prove it. If you like this fic, I'm going to be posting the rest of the story on ao3. Here's the link.

Art was done by @tastic-in-its-finest and you can find it here!

Word Count: (for this chapter) 3k

Chapter One - Lungs

The first feeling, or experience rather, Logan has is unbridled anguish. He doesn’t remember much of it. His body gives him a sharp spike of electricity when he moves his neck, clearly as a result of what occurred. The shaking of their palms when they were made to look someone in the eyes. A fear he couldn’t place the origin of. Logan’s body felt wrong to exist in. It felt wrong to be there at all. His body feels as if it was dismantled and reattached slightly differently. Functional, but not the same. Logan had begun adjusting to the changes far quicker than his muscle memory could. It hurt to stand too long, a pain coming from his spine would trail its way to his legs, and there wasn’t anything he could do about it. Logan was reminded of this fact when one of their knees locked, and he forced himself to fall to the side so he could catch himself. His entire weight supported by one leg and his hands on the edges of the kitchen counter. Logan slowly led himself to sit on his couch, easing himself into a lying position. He took a slow, deep breath.

Breathing is a difficult sensation to get used to. It’s supposed to be constant, quiet, and easy. And yet it’s so integral to survival. Especially for a being with lungs. You have to breathe in oxygen, and out carbon dioxide. A consistent transfer of elements with your body holding the key to change. If you hold your breath, the carbon dioxide holds a heavy space in your lungs, poisoning the rest of your organs. If you breathe too quickly, risk tiring yourself out, and accomplishing nothing by speeding up the endless repetition. Both can lead to fainting or passing out. What a fickle way to live, to survive. 

So imagine Logan’s surprise that everyone around him could do this without thinking. This was normal. And he was not. Now was their chance to be just like the others, with working lungs, a working body, and a working heart. It wasn’t pleasant to feel constant changes within himself in a manner he couldn’t control. Nothing could truly be perfectly measured or predicted or controlled. Logan pressed his left thumb pad against his right index finger, cradling the right hand softly, and felt the small ridges of fingerprints conflict with their paths next to each other. This was one of the new sensations they didn’t mind. He did this while reminding himself to breathe, concerned that his judgment would lapse and he would simply die too early on in his existence. Logan thought about feeling, and if he had enough time to get used to the stimulus he didn’t used to have access to. A sudden flash of pain went past his neck, causing him to suddenly tilt his head to the left. He exhaled loudly, with a shudder, to keep his composure. Logan didn’t know a lot about social conventions but screaming every time he felt an ounce of discomfort definitely did not fit that criteria. However, he was new to the apartment complex, so perhaps that was actually acceptable and he would have to discover that later. 

Logan wanted to get this all under control within the next ten minutes, though he wasn’t accurately able to tell how long he had been laying down when the static that seemed to follow him blocked his vision. Breathing was still difficult. Still present. A reminder that they were failing their objective already. That this wasn’t going to plan. He was going to die on day one. Despite the severity of everything Logan felt (he FELT things now), he wasn’t allowed to give up. That was explicitly against the rules. 

With the overpowered conviction of doing what he was told, Logan laid on the couch silently. A pain in his lungs, a throbbing in his head. Well, technically the pain was coming from his nerves sending signals to his… brain. Logan frowned, almost pulled from the sensation of his lungs being crushed by a hydraulic press by the reminder. His brain. Logan still didn’t fully understand how he worked, even if he knew the components that made him up. They desperately wanted to. Just to know. Logan enjoyed learning. He didn’t know a lot about himself, but he knew that. Logan wanted to learn.

He pressed the palms of his hands against his closed eyes, somehow that specific type of pressure alleviated the pain. There was a knock on his door after a few minutes. It was his first day living in this apartment. Logan was told to expect greetings from neighbors, in some regard. But this felt overwhelming still. 

Logan ignored them.

The next day was filled with duller pain, but still ever present. His neck creaked loudly as he tilted his head from side to side. Logan had to leave the apartment today. This was something he always knew he had to do, but didn’t know if he wanted to. Well, he did know. He absolutely wanted to stay hidden away from the world for the rest of time. But… Logan turned on his phone, to reread the message he had gotten. Emile wanted to see him, and they were going to meet up at a café. His text was… long and hard to parse through. Even though Logan had trouble discerning tone a majority of the time, they got the sense that Emile was more excited about this than Logan would be able to be. After looking at themself in the mirror for entirely too long, washing the dried blood from his neck, and getting dressed, he left the apartment. Logan struggled locking the door, having to try about six times, and just hoped that no one would notice long enough for him to appear normal. 

He was on the second floor, defined by a walled off balcony wrapping around the exterior of the building to connect each apartment to a shared space. Logan was about to reach the stairs down when a man walked into him. Or perhaps it was his fault, it was hard to tell really. Logan stepped back, almost affronted by the contact. The person was tall, with thin and long box braids wrapped in a bun. He had rectangle glasses with rounded edges and a smile on his face. It made Logan instantly uncomfortable looking anywhere near his eyes, so they looked away.

“Howdy!” … What? The man continued. “Sorry for bumping into you, that’s my bad. You’re the one who just moved in right? What’s your name?”

This was possibly worse than everything Logan had ever experienced. He wasn’t entirely sure how high (metaphorically) that bar was, but it was probably significant. Logan didn’t respond for a few awkwardly silent seconds. They coughed, preparing his throat to speak. “I’m… I did just move in, yes. My name is Logan. Logan Clay.” Was he doing this right? How were you supposed to tell? The man was still looking at him like he expected something. Logan went through all they remembered from practicing. Oh! Right… “What’s your name?”

“The name’s Patton Nasir, neighbor!” He reached out his hand, looking… concerned(?) when Logan instinctively flinched away. Patton quickly retracted his hand before Logan even said anything about it, placing it gracefully on his hip. “Well, it’s nice to finally meet you, Logan! I live just next door. 214. So if you need help with anything, I’m always there for you.”

Was this genuine? Was there a way to tell? Logan just nodded. “Thank you, Patton. I’ll be sure to contact you if such a situation arises. I have to go now.”

Patton laughed. Logan just stared slightly to the left of his face, almost simulating true eye contact with his neighbor. “Of course, I didn’t mean to keep you, buddy. I hope you have a good day!”

He waved and walked past Logan, who just stood there as the conversation left the air, reminding themself to breathe. His neck still hurt, as if his splenius capitis would burn whenever he moved his head. Logan shook his head, despite knowing the action only exacerbated the pain. Logan finally got to continue walking to meet Emile, walking down the concrete stairs with a sense of urgency. He made sure to look at the directions on his phone so he wouldn’t get lost. Perhaps he looked at them a little too frequently. It took just about ten minutes and forty three seconds to reach the café. A local establishment with a patio that contained three tables. Two of those three had striped umbrellas over them. 

Emile was sitting at the table holding a disposable cup with a lid, presumably filled with coffee. It was as much of a relief as a great anxiety to finally see him. Logan walked up to the table with a sense of urgency that wasn’t shared with their companion. Emile smiled easily, his scrunched nose lightly displacing his glasses. 

“Hello, Logan! Do you how do?” He greeted.

If this were any other individual, Logan would be concerned at the nonsensical manner he held himself with. But this was Dr. Emile Picani, the only person he truly knew. The only person who knew… Logan. Himself. Logan nodded. “I’m doing adequate, Emile. Should I… order something too?”

“Not if you don’t want to.” Emile responded simply. “Did you have breakfast yet?”

Logan froze. He did a mental check of his body. His neck screaming (metaphorically), his hands still shaking, his stomach… People were supposed to eat regularly. He knew that. Logan was told that, and they knew that they had to do that too. Fuck. “I have not had breakfast yet.”

Somehow, Emile could read his tone, even when Logan himself could not. He frowned. “Logan… have you eaten anything since you left the hospital yesterday?”

“I drank water.” He supplied, as if that was a perfect substitute.

Emile stood up, the metal chair screeched loudly, and suddenly Logan had to resist the urge to drag his nails through the skin of his ears. “Let’s get you some coffee.”

Who was Logan to disobey? Emile ordered for him, and assured him of what he had gotten. Black coffee and a simple sandwich. They sat back down together. Logan drank the bitter drink, but mostly because it was expected of them. Despite the casual setting, the public atmosphere, this was a meeting. Logan knew that. Emile was acting like this because Logan didn’t know how to act yet. He appreciated it immensely. Logan started eating the sandwich, with dry bread and bland ingredients. 

“I’m glad you liked it. You… You used to order this same thing every morning.” Emile looked down, with a smile, but Logan didn’t think he was actually happy. “Anyways! Have you made any new friends yet or unpacked yet?”

Logan swallowed his food, setting his sandwich back down. He felt all the different components of his neck conflict with one another, reminding him of the constant searing pain that had incapacitated him the day before. A pain that wasn’t supposed to be there. “No, I haven’t. I thought… I was supposed to keep a low profile?”

It came out like a question, because he felt as though Emile’s questions contradicted the prior instructions he had given. Keep a low profile. Keep the secrets. Stay hidden. Were they intended to balance those objectives with a social life? Interior design? Logan reminded himself to breathe at a consistent pace. That was a lot of rules to uphold all at once, but he could do it. Emile expected them to, and they wouldn’t want to let him down. Not after all he had done for them. Emile just looked confused, similar to how Logan… felt. Hm.

“Logan, I don’t want to keep you from making new connections!” Emile exclaimed, his voice filled with a worry Logan didn’t understand. “Besides, an empty apartment and a lone hermit is… a little more suspicious than, say, hiding in plain sight like Constantine from Muppets Most Wanted.”

He gave back a blank stare. 

“Yeah… I don’t think you’ve ever seen that movie, even before everything.” Emile admitted. “I just mean: it’s going to be better for everyone if you settle down a little bit more, and nurture new friendships with your neighbors. You need to establish friendships and trust or… Or none of this is going to work. Or at least try! If nothing works out, you’ll still be meeting with me here every week! We can figure stuff out.”

It was reassuring, knowing that he wasn’t alone. Logan didn’t really know much about what to do or what he should be like. But Emile did. He really needed the guidance. “Thank you, Emile. I appreciate that. I will… ‘settle down’, when I am able.”

His friend smiled at him, with a type of pride Logan didn’t feel. He was mostly scared of what was going to happen to him. Emile smiled at him like everything was already going perfectly. It wasn’t exactly lying, but it was optimistic. Even though it was confirmation that the two were in this together, Logan still felt uncomfortable.

Emile left first, having the obligations of a job. He was working part time at a lab while he worked on his psychology degree. Logan… had a job. It was more freelance. They didn’t start until the next day. Logan collected the leftover dishes and trash, walking back inside to put them where they belonged. The plates went on a stack of other dishes also used that day, while the trash went into the nearest trash receptacle. He looked around, as if someone was there to tell him he did a good job. The only person there was a barista with sunglasses on scrolling on vaer phone with minimal interest. Vaey looked up at Logan, raising an eyebrow. Logan felt uncomfortable instantly and decided to leave. 

They spent the rest of the day organizing their new living space. The boxes didn’t contain a whole lot. Emile told him that he would have to go shopping on his own to accommodate anything that was missing. Logan suspected that Emile got him a job for that exact reason. So they could be more self-sufficient. Ironic, that Logan wouldn’t be able to do any of this without him. Logan thought this over while figuring out where to put their skillets and pans. He eventually took a break to eat, something he was determined not to forget again. Logan hadn’t cooked much before so settled for an oatmeal mix that Emile had packed him. They were not a big fan of the flavor. They ate it anyway. Logan had finished washing the two dishes he had used when someone had knocked on the door. His headache, well all of his aches really, were still bothering him profusely. But he was supposed to make connections right? 

Patton was holding a ziploc bag when Logan opened the door. The man was smiling, as if it was his default expression. He held it out to them. “I meant to give these to you yesterday, but… I’m giving them to you now! They’re chocolate chip cookies so I can take them back if you’re gluten free or allergic to chocolate or-”

He was just as nervous as Logan was. It didn’t seem to click until that moment. Logan took the back from his hands and looked up at Patton. “Thank you, for welcoming me to the neighborhood. You seem like a kind person, Patton.”

They didn’t really intend to cut off whatever Patton was talking about, but he didn’t particularly seem to mind. “Of course, thank you for the compliment! We’re going to start a whole chain of ‘thank you’s if we keep this up. I can’t wait to get to know you.”

Patton left after that, but what he had said ringed in Logan’s ears. 

I can’t wait to get to know you.

He repeated this as he got dressed for bed. He repeated it as he brushed his teeth. As he stared into the mirror for too long. As they put their glasses on the box they were using as a nightstand. Logan couldn’t wait to know himself too. They reminded themself to breathe, and continued to do so until it became even again. I can’t wait to get to know you. What a polite, kind thing to say to a stranger. 

Logan took a long deep breath in as he dug his fingers into the back of his neck. He gagged, feeling himself breathe heavier and faster. The skin between his spine and skull shifted to make room for the change. They searched around the blood and nerves, until latching to a specific cord. It resisted his grasp as Logan repressed the urge to flail. Clawing, clawing, clawing. He pulled the cord out slowly, feeling it rake against his organic matter. It collected blood as the end finally surfaced. Logan took a heavy breath, letting himself collapse forwards. A second was needed to catch his breath, to calm themself down. He wiped the blood off the cap protecting the end, before taking it off. Logan then plugged the cord into the glowing box underneath his bed. They felt the jolt of electricity enter their body as the cord began glowing a soft orange that mirrored the box.

Laying on their side, facing away from the box, was the only comfortable way to sleep. Not that they imagined they would do much of that. Despite trying, Logan didn’t feel fully human. Because he wasn’t, not really. Not like Emile, not like Patton. But he did wonder. Would this ever stop hurting? Would he ever stop hurting? Being a human was constantly being in pain. At least, that’s what it seemed like. Logan attempted to halt their thinking as they ignored the heat emanating from their neck, and the frantic breaths drawn for their lungs.

AO3 Link Here!

Taglist: @amateurmasksmith @phoenixtfc @snowynb @hydrastefishere @part-time-zombie @blueberryraccon

[firewolf111]

Request from @aerosolsprite intrulogical

Logan: *working on a project in his room*

Remus: *appearing on Logan's ceiling before landing on the desk in front of him*

Logan: Hello, Remus. Would you be so kind as to get off my desk?

Remus: Nope.

Logan: *sighing* Alright. What do you want, dear?

Remus: Gimme kiss.

Logan: *rolls his eyes before giving him a quick peck on the lips* There. Now, can I have my desk back?

Remus: Nope.

Logan: But I gave you the agreed upon price.

Remus: Wasn't enough.

Logan: You only asked for one kiss.

Remus: Inflation.

Logan: That's not how inflation works. You can't up the price after the transaction. We already made the deal. Changing the pricing after the contract is not allowed.

Remus: Mmmmm....taxes. Hidden fees, like how airports or hotels do it. Transaction fees. Many examples where this is allowed.

Logan: You really need to stop listening to me when I teach things. It's quite inconvenient.

Remus: *grinning* You know you love it. Now gimme another kiss.

...............

Omg. I loved writing this one! Thank you for the request! <3 (I may have to write more of this ship later. This was too much fun)

[zombiesandbells]

SCYTHE ROMAN

You will pay for your

S I N S

Wooo ! My first big bang for @sandersidesbigbang

Go read the awesome fic Sanders Scythes by @blazethecheeto. It's honestly such a good read, really well written and keeps you on your toes!

ID by @glacierruler

[tss-whumper]

I keep thinking about touch-starved whumpee Roman and caretaker Logan. Roman knows Logan doesn't like touch much, but then Logan hugs him after realizing Roman's touch-starved, and...Roman kinda breaks. Logan is steady and precise, and Roman is so so cold and confused and never wants to leave.

Anyway, no pressure to write this! (/gen)

I love how you write Patton & Roman bc it feels accurate to me, lol. Haven't been here in a while, but wanted to see how you were doing. Glad I returned to read some of your awesome fics!

Take care :D (/pos)

aww, thank you so much for all the kind words, anon!! i really appreciate the support. this idea looks amazing, and i'd love to write something with it. i hope this is what you were looking for!

---

Roman was cold.

He wasn't quite sure why. This had been happening for a few weeks now, Roman woke up and was cold. He ate breakfast and was cold. He even was cold while taking his hour-long hot showers. No matter what he did, he always felt like he was freezing from the inside out. It had only just recently gotten to the point where he was shivering every moment of the day, his teeth chattering whenever he was not talking.

And that was why Roman was where he was now: wrapped in a blanket, on the couch, in front of the fireplace. While all of the other sides were wearing tank tops and shorts, Roman was secretly wearing pajama pants underneath a second pair of pajama pants.

Roman was focusing on keeping warm, but the sound of arguing started to emerge from the hallway into the living room, causing the creative side to carefully listen in, as he tended to do.

"Patton, I don't want a hug. Get off me."

Logan was clearly losing his patience with the overly-affectionate side, and Roman watched from the couch as Logan's muscles tensed and his breathing grew more labored. It was not a secret that the logical side generally disliked physical touch, especially when he was not the one initiating it. The only thing he hated more than physical touch was not being listened to.

"Oh, Logan, stop being such a sourpuss!" Patton chided, "I'm just showin' my favorite logical guy some love! Hug me back, and then I'll let you go!"

Logan rolled his eyes, and they flashed with irritation as he reluctantly hugged Patton back. The paternal side squealed and let go of Logan, skipping out of the room to likely do the same surprise bear hug to Virgil that he had subjected Logan to.

Roman huffed softly from his spot on the couch. Once again, Patton hadn't even noticed that he was in the room. Recently, it had been like that more and more. Patton gave all his attention to all the other sides, but when Roman was around, he awkwardly shuffled away. Roman had tried to make amends from what happened in the past few episodes, going so far as to try and protect Patton from Janus, but it never seemed to be enough for him.

But that wasn't the important thing right now. Roman shivered, a bit cold in the room as he stood up and approached Logan.

"Hey, pocket watch, wanna watch musicals with special effects and try to figure out how they do them?" he offered.

Logan offered a small, tired smile.

"Sure, Roman," he said, "That would be lovely."

Together, the two sides went to Roman's room. Though most of the fans saw the clear animosity between Roman and Logan, the two were rather good friends off-camera. When there was nothing at stake for Thomas, they found good company in each other. Logan helped Roman listen to reason when he was being overly idealistic, and Roman helped Logan find hope and inspiration where there seemed to be none at all.

And best of all, they both loved to watch musicals with special effects and try to figure out how they were done. They giggled and kicked their feet and shouted like children when they guessed correctly.

Something about being with Logan made Roman feel as if he could be himself for a change. He didn't have to put on a performance that he was some grand, indestructible prince, simply because there was no point. Logan could always see right through Roman's acts. Logan knew that Roman was not really a prince, that he really was very sensitive. And though that was scary sometimes, it was usually refreshing, not needing to pretend. Especially because it was obvious that Logan knew how it felt to be put on that sort of stifling pedestal.

Roman was the only person who Logan felt safe to be himself around too, though not for the same reason. Logan struggled to be taken seriously by the other sides, often seen as a joke. Though Roman teased Logan, it was clear that Roman did not view Logan as lesser-than or pathetic. Roman listened to and respected Logan's wishes, especially off camera. He made Logan feel...listened to. And almost appreciated at times? It was something Logan was generally unfamiliar with. But with Roman, it tended to be abundant.

"Roman? What's going on?"

Roman blinked, and looked over at Logan. He clutched his blankets closer to himself as he felt a terrible chill come over him.

"N- no- nothing," Roman stammered between his chattering teeth, "I'm just cold is all."

"Cold?" Logan asked sharply, extremely concerned, "It's eighty degrees in here, and you have two blankets on. I'm surprised you aren't overheating."

Roman was not expecting that level of worry from Logan, who was usually so level-headed.

"Um...I dunno," Roman shrugged, "I'm just cold. I don't know what to tell you. It's been like this for a few weeks now. I figured my room just had a draft or something."

Logan felt Roman's forehead. Roman shivered, subconsciously leaning into Logan's gentle and warming touch. Logan's fingers delicately brushed the hair away from Roman's forehead.

"You don't feel feverish or unwell," the logical side mused, "You don't seem to be sick at all. But I can't think of any other reason why you might feel like...this."

Logan paused when he saw how Roman reacted to his touch.

"You're so warm," Roman murmured, an almost delirious smile on his face, "I've never felt anything warmer, not in all my life."

Logan did not think he was particularly toasty. He frowned a bit, and put his other hand on Roman's shoulder. When the creative side practically keened into the touch, Logan realized what the problem was, the pieces of the puzzle coming together in his head in one immediate snap.

"It's touch," he realized, "Roman, when was the last time somebody touched you?"

"Three weeks ago," Roman said, as if he had the time and place memorized, "When Patton petted my head after I did the dishes."

"So you've gone three weeks without being touched..." Logan mused, "And you're cold. And the moment I touch you, you're warm."

Logan decided to try something else. But when he leaned in to hug Roman, the creative side quickly pulled away.

"Logan- please, you don't have to do that," Roman said quickly, "Patton said I need to work on my selfishness and pushiness. I- I don't want you to hug me if you don't want to. I know you don't like touch. I'll be fine. It's just a little cold."

"Roman."

Logan's voice was so sharp that Roman looked up from his rambling in surprise. Sure, he was used to Logan sounding stern, but this was more than that. His violet-blue eyes blazed with an intensity that Roman rarely saw from his friend. Logan was considerably vexed.

"I mean-"

"Roman."

"I didn't mean to-"

"Roman."

"But I just wanted to-"

"Roman!"

Roman ceased.

"I understand what you intended," Logan said, with an awkward chuckle, and warmth seeped into his tone, making him sound almost friendly. "And I know I've expressed that I'm not particularly fond of physical affection. But this is different. You need me, and...honestly, it's not the touch that I dislike. It's the suddenness of being touched without permission. When Patton surprise hugs me, it...makes me nervous. When Remus elbows me out of nowhere, or when Virgil ruffles my hair, it just unnerves me. I like hugging my friends, Roman. I like it when I get to decide when it starts and ends. Does that make any sense?"

Roman couldn't hide the bright grin that formed on his face.

"It makes sense," he reassured, but a shiver ran through his body, causing him to let out a whimper as he hugged himself in an attempt to preserve body heat.

He rushed to put the blankets around himself again, but Logan stopped him gently. And then, he pulled Roman into the softest, gentlest, warmest hug that Roman had ever experienced. The prince's doe-like brown eyes went round as saucers. And then, he hugged Logan back, with the same gentle strength that Logan exhibited.

And they hugged for a good, long time. Until Roman stopped shivering. Then, Logan got to initiate exactly when it was time to pull back. The two sides looked into each others eyes for a long time. And Logan did not for a moment expect to see tears shining in Roman's.

"Roman...what's the matter?" Logan asked, quickly bringing a hand to Roman's cheek to swipe away the glistening tears.

"I don't know- I- I-" Roman whimpered, "I've never felt so warm. This feeling, it's- it's not bad, but I'm just- I'm so overwhelmed..."

He sobbed and sobbed, and Logan pulled him close, allowing Roman to sob into his shoulder. Logan did not show it on his ever-neutral face, but his heart clenched whenever he heard his dear friend's cries. Roman was a crier, whether he was happy, sad, or angry. But despite how common it was to hear and see, Logan still never quite got used to it. Logan just hated to see Roman look so confused and lost. The creative side had never looked more like a child than he did in that moment.

"It's alright, Roman," Logan hushed gently, "It's alright. I've got you. And I want this. I know you're a lot colder than I am. But being here with you, I've never felt so warm either. It appears we have that in common. So relax. Please. I want you here. I...I love you, Roman."

"I..." Roman's breath caught in his throat.

God, how long had it been since somebody said those words to him with such sincerity and sureness?

How long had it been since somebody said them to Logan?

"I love you too," the creative side replied, the words coming out his mouth as easily as water poured through a stream.

There was much more hugging, and staring, and hugging, and staring. The touched-starved prince and the typically emotionally unavailable teacher both felt more alive when they were together. It was such a beautiful feeling they shared, something that could not quite be described or otherwise replicated. All they knew was that together, in that room, surrounded by blankets and all by themselves, Roman and Logan felt trust.

"To think," Roman laughed, in higher spirits already, "The solution was right here this entire time!"

"How absurd of me to be so dense!" Logan cried out, "To have only noticed this now, I'm very ashamed of myself."

"Don't be," Roman reassured, "I couldn't be more grateful for you, Logan."

"And same to you, Roman," Logan said, "If you ever need some warmth from me again, you can always ask. Alright?"

Roman beamed and nodded enthusiastically.

"You got it, teach! he said, "And the second you want it all to stop, I'll pull away. Okay?"

Logan sighed softly, and the smile that grew on his face was so wide and free that it surprised him. To think. Having the choice. It was nice to have a physical relationship that did not feel conditional.

"Okay," he affirmed, adjusting his glasses. "It's a deal."

[dukeyeatsdeodorant]

Remus is touch starved.

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

Remus wasn't used to recieving hugs. Or any kind of affection really. Thats why, when Patton had came up and hugged him earlier that day, he was frozen with shock. He didn't mind the lack of affection before, it wasn't his style and yet here he was, staring at the ceiling, feeling the ghost of Pattons arms still lingering around him, he felt..cold. He didn't like the cold. Remus groaned and gripped his hair, tugging at it, he didn't like the feeling of emptiness he suddenly felt. He wanted more. He longed for it, he wanted to be held, to be cuddled, he wanted to feel the warmth of someone else against him. He wanted to feel the warmth of Patton against him. He wanted to squeeze someone with all his might, to feel the loving touch of someone else. Remus wasn't supposed to be so...mushy. And yet that was all he felt at that moment. The cold, the longing for affection, the loneliness, it was all new to him and he hated it. He hated every last second of this feeling. He dropped his hands from his hair to rub his face, only now realising the tears that were staining his cheeks, he loudly cursed and sat up. He wanted that feeling of warmth and love again. He needed that feeling again.

Remus dragged himself off of his bed and quickly popped into Pattons room, startling the other side when he appeared. "Remus! What are you-" Patton was cut off by Remus tackling him to the ground with a giant bear hug. "Oh!" He yelped in surprise, Remus nuzzled his chest silently. He didn't want to speak, he just wanted to savour the moment. He exhaled in relief, the feeling of warmth rushing over him again. Patton gently smiled and wrapped his arms around him, realising what Remus wanted. "Awe, you liked the hug, didn't you!" Remus didn't respond to him, he just smiled from the feeling of being hugged, the feeling of love and gentle affection that he was longing for minutes prior. Patton accepted the silence, holding Remus close to him, enjoying the rare peaceful state of Remus, yet it was unsettling at the same time.

"Maybe I should hug you more often." Patton whispered, Remus looked up at him slightly, "Yes please." He whispered back at him. "You're like hot oil. You make me feel all warm inside and I can't get enough of it." Patton tilted his head a bit "..Okay?" Remus nodded "Have you ever tried drinking boiling hot oil before? Its delicious." Patton sighed and smiled more "No, I haven't!" Remus nodded and stared at him in silence. Patton stared back, returning the silence. It was silent for another five minutes before Patton asked Remus about his day, Patton didn't like the quiet too much, somehow it felt more disturbing than talking to Remus. They talked for a while until eventually falling asleep, cuddling eachother, feeling relaxed and somewhat peaceful with eachother's presence. It was a calm night that night and Thomas finally got a good nights sleep.

[analoceits]

love bites CH. 1: new blood

A03 LINK

Virgil leaned against the headboard and sighed. The apartment was strangely silent, and not in a pleasant way. It seeped into his bones and rested there, choking his lungs. It was the type of quiet that made him cry as a kid, because he could hear his blood flowing and his heart beating and he could feel how fragile both were..

At least he couldn’t hear either now.

Whatever. That was irrelevant. He was thinking about the quiet, because that meant Logan was gone and it was stressing him out. Logan had warned him, of course - some kind of after school program his professor had offered him that meant he would be staying a little later. Even if he knew why though, it didn’t stop his thoughts from racing.

Virgil had protested when Logan brought it up. Lo, jesus christ, that late? Seriously? C’mon, that is a disaster waiting to happen- what if you get lost? Or, you could get stolen away by some creepy guy, or you could get fucking mugged, or- (Or Bitten.)

But Logan, as comforting as ever, reached a hand up and gently patted his shoulder, stating, the cities crime rate is particularly low. That’s why we both chose to live here, isn’t it? I will be completely alright. To give you extra assurance, I’ll inform you when I leave so you can ‘freak the fuck out’ as you said if I’m not home in thirty or so minutes, ok?

As promised, the text had arrived twenty-seven minutes ago. Logan should be home any minute now. Virgil sighed, laying back against the headboard. Logan’s words were absurdly comforting. It shouldn’t be allowed, really. It’s as if Logan had stolen the voice of an angel somehow, and used it just to speak to Virgil in the softest way.

For the approximately 100th time since the realization had hit Virgil a number of months ago, that thought ran through his head again. Despite every warning and caution against, Virgil had fallen hopelessly, and desperately in love with a mortal.

The thought sent a miserably defeated let delighted sigh through him, before it was cut off by the front door pulling open and promptly slamming shut so hard that it shook the apartment. Virgil shot straight up, fear striking through his ribs, head spinning to the vague direction of the noise, “Logan?” He yelled across the apartment.

There was no answer.

“Logan!” He repeated, the force in his voice stronger this time.

Logan did not answer. Logan always answered.

Virgil was running before he really knew it, his body moving with unnatural stiff perfection, any passing thought of seeming human escaping him as his feet slammed against the floor. He flung around the corner in less than a second and caught his eyes on a figure.

No, not a figure, it was Logan. It was Logan, staring at him with wide, terrified eyes and only then between his terror and relief did Virgil remember there were actually reasons why he had to seem human. A major one being to not terrify his very human roommate

After a brief, embarrassed glance down that resulted in him seeing black, smoking marks in the tile (they were not getting their deposit back now) he looked back up and spoke, still unsure if he was embarrassed or terrified. “Logan, are you ok? Did something happen? You could’ve called me, you know-” Logan raised his hand to cut Virgil off, and Virgil hesitantly obliged.

In what was becoming a pretty concerning pattern - Logan still did not speak.

They both stared at each other in an awkward, tense silence. It’s like they were playing a game of chicken where Virgil was trying to not open his mouth again, and Logan was trying to remember what words were. Virgil barely resisted the urge to reach for him as the silence drew on.

Finally, finally because Virgil might fucking die - die again - if he didn’t hear the nerds voice right then, Logan spoke. “I am alright.” He said, but the words shook as he spoke them, “.. I didn’t know you could run that fast, Virgil.”

Virgil resisted the urge to cringe so hard his fangs would dig into his bottom lip, and instead responded with a very hesitant, “I didn’t know you liked slamming doors all of a sudden, but here we are.” Despite his best efforts, the words held more concern than annoyance.

Logan did actually cringe at that, seemingly having less self control than Virgil which - jesus, when did that happen? - but he managed to force out an answer. “I apologize, it was just stress,” he said and Virgil could see it - he looked strikingly pale. As pale as Virgil had been all those years ago. 

The thought sent a viscous nausea through him.

“So..,” Virgil started, picking over his words carefully, because Logan for the first time was the fragile one of the two of them and Virgil couldn’t stand himself if he broke Logan while he was like this, “you aren’t alright, are you?” He asked in his best soft voice, taking a hesitant step forward.

Despite his attempt at softness, Logan took the words viscerally, entire body tensing as he stepped back. As if Virgil had just torn him open for all to see. “I am fine.” He responded tersely, and Virgil was pretty sure the tension in the room might kill them both.

Virgil hated this, he decided suddenly. Whatever the fuck was happening, he hated it. He hated Logan staring at him like a terrified puppy, and he hated trying to advance on him like he was animal control. “Logan, something is clearly wrong. I’m worried. Please, please just let me help. This once?”

Logan stared at him, thinking over the words seemingly - and then he tried to run. He was running across the floor - and when the fuck did he learn to run that fast - then Virgil was grabbing him by his wrist, cringing with guilt at the way Logan made a pathetic half-shriek in his throat at that.

Virgil held on loosely, knowing it wasn’t a fight in the first place. Humans always felt weak against him now, it took more focus to not hurt them than it did, really. Even if it made him sick to think about, Logan didn’t really have a chance against him. Virgil took a deep breath.

Then Logan tore out of his grasp with a sudden strength Virgil didn’t know he had, pushing Virgil off hard enough to make him stumble before spinning around and starting to scramble with his rooms door. Virgil was frozen for a brief moment. That shouldn’t be possible. How was that possible?

His mind caught up eventually, and suddenly Virgil reached out and pulled Logan away from the door, holding tight to him with a strength that would have usually crushed his ribs. “Logan, Logan, what the utter fuck-” Virgil hissed under his breath, dragging him into the living room.

Logan kicked against him with that scary force again, but he was unfocused - even if he was.. stronger, somehow, he clearly hadn’t learned to use that strength at all. After a few moments, Logan calmed down enough for Virgil to hold him just by his wrists.

The way that Logan pulled against him, trying to use all the force in his body, reminded Virgil viscerally of himself freshly turned.

Fuck, he needed to stop thinking about his turning and being a vampire cause he was pretty sure that was just making things worse, actually. Instead, he needed to focus on the problem in front of him - the shaking fucking mess of his roommate he was trying to subdue.

Virgil choked down his best approximation of a deep breath and tightened his grip around Logan’s wrists as gently as he could until he could feel Logan stopping his attempts at struggle. It felt - mean, really shitty actually, but something was deeply fucking wrong and he was not leaving it. He couldn’t take the risk.

Even if he wasn’t struggling against Virgil, though, Logan was clearly struggling to breath and Virgil knew they weren’t going to have any of the good conversation he wanted while Logan was having a panic attack.

“Hey, bud,” he started tentatively, trying his best to speak to the shaking mass of Logan, “I got you, don’t worry.” He said before adding a few clicks after - he knew humans couldn’t hear them, but it was still instinctual. Even if Logan couldn’t hear them, Virgil would swear he relaxed a little after he did them - maybe Janus was right about his theory that humans could sense them subconsciously.

Slowly, painfully, over a number of minutes Virgil did not bother to count, Logan calmed down. His panicked wheezes turned to shaky but deep breaths and the tenseness slowly leaked out of him. That lost look in his eyes slowly became more aware, gaze focused on the tile. Virgil gave an encouraging smile, “there you go.”

Then, without a singular fucking warning, Logan lunged at him. Virgil didn’t even think to fight back, instead just standing dumbly as he felt what were now obviously baby fangs try to dig into his skin for blood that wasn’t there. Blood that hadn’t been there for years.

Logan choked out a shriek and pulled back sharply, looking at Virgil with overwhelming guilt and terror. “I- Virgil, I’m so sorry, that was unintentional I wouldn’t ever hurt you- I didn’t- Virgil-” his voice broke and he was clearly begging now, as Virgil just stood there, processing the shock.

As soon as he processed it, though, he was moving. He reached out and grabbed Logan, practically dragging him to the couch and throwing him at it. “Stay here,” he hissed, a million thoughts screaming through his head as he ran through the kitchen.

The loudest was in Janus’s voice. You had barely five minutes to live after that bite, if I hadn’t helped.

He was by the fridge and his hands were in the icy cold that he couldn’t even feel anymore and he was grasping around for a feeling of a latch, a secret compartment tucked away in the back of the fridge fucking hell where was it-

His finger caught on something and he pulled on it so hard the compartment door snapped and clattered to the floor with a slam. He did not care, his hands awkwardly grasping for the first thing he could grab. There was a bag of blood in his hands and he was moving, darting  for the living room.

Somewhere between the living room and kitchen he tore the bag. He must’ve, because there was blood pouring onto his fingers and onto the floor and it did not matter for a second, nothing mattered but getting too Logan. 

He dropped to a knee by Logan’s side, and he looked painfully, horrifically pale now. Virgil could see the way he struggled to breath, one hand grasping at his neck, this time not with fear but from the creeping death Virgil knew was approaching him. Virgil reached out, his bloody hands were on his jaw and he was tilting his head back and-

He poured the blood into Logans mouth, practically covering them both in red. Time stumbled back into place as he did, Virgil able to hear the telltale way Logan desperately choked down the blood. Virgil dug his nails into the couch, pulling himself up. It was all he could do to stop himself from physically tackling Logan.

Everything was slower now, every movement drawn out and Virgil took a shaky breath through his dead lungs. He was so indescribably happy he could breath again, that everything was alright, that Logan would be okay. They were okay.

Then his eyes drifted down to the literal blood on his own hands and he was leering again.

Not quickly like moments ago, no- time slowed around him, the whole force of it pressing against as his back just to indulge in his misery, his shame. Because Virgil had just done the worst thing he could do. He was just as bad as he thought he would become.

Technically, he didn’t. Virgil, for all intents and purposes did not turn Logan. No, that process was started for him by someone else. Someone who Virgil was going to slaughter, going to watch them choke and die starved of blood just like the fate they almost damned his Logan too- 

But Virgil had ended the process.

Without even giving Logan a choice. A horrible false choice; a choice between an instant death and a stretched out, painful eternity neither of which he would fully understand, but some semblance of choice. Instead, without asking he poured the blood in his mouth he damned Logan just like he had been damned and-

Logan hugged him. His arms were around Virgil’s torso and he was shaking like a leaf in the wind, gasping into his chest and getting more blood all over the both of them. Virgil stood, his arms by his side dumbly as he processed it and then he hugged him back, holding him in what was practically a death grip.

After a long, tender moment Logan pulled himself up, wriggling out of Virgil's hold embarrassedly. His cheeks were flushed red and he glanced down at the couch with wide eyes. Virgil could not fucking believe Logan had the emotional capacity to be embarrassed over a hug after everything that had just happened.

Virgil eventually fully let Logan go, sitting down beside him on the couch. He took a deep steadying breath and glanced up at Logan with the best reassuring smile he could muster.

Logan gave him a similar, if shakier smile back and Virgil could swear, for just a second, they might actually end up ok. Even if things were gonna be utterly terrible for a while they might, by some fucking miracle, be ok. Of course they would. They were together.

“So..,” Logan awkwardly pawed for the coffee table in front of them, grabbing a notepad and pen with shaky hands. He clicked the pen, turning back to Virgil. “Would the correct terminology be ‘vampirism’?” He asked, pen hovering over paper. Virgil blinked, and then started cackling so hard he was worried he would damage something.

Logan glared at him with withering embarrassment, but Virgil knew it held no heat behind it. He was pretty sure at the moment neither of them knew how to be mad at each other. After a moment, Virgil managed to nod through his cackles.

As soon as Virgil managed to officially calm down - which took a solid minute and a half, by his guess, he looked to Logan and gave him a reassuring smirk, feeling much more calm than just a few minutes ago. Ok. They were gonna be okay. “Sorry. I’m sorry, really, mean it,” he forced out with only a few giggles, “anything else?”

Logan squinted his eyes at him for a long second, still holding onto his annoyance from Virgil's reaction, but he eventually relented, “well, I.. have a list,” Virgil snorted again and Logan pointedly ignored it, “but firstly.. how long have you been 21?” He queried, looking to Virgil with curiosity.

“First thing,” Virgil started, “utterly fuck you for indirectly quoting Twilight at me.” That managed to startle a laugh at Logan, which made Virgil practically preen with delight. “Second thing, I was turned like five years ago-” Logan gave him a surprised look, and Virgil raised a finger before he continued, clarifying.“- when I was 18.”

Logan hummed acknowledgingly, scribbling something down on the notepad and then responding with a curt, “so, if you had aged normally, you would be around 23 at the moment, correct?” Virgil gave a casual nod. He would say he was 23, honestly, but that was a technicality.

“Yup,” he said and then suddenly he was grinning, realizing he got to do something very funny, “which means I’m now the oldest in the apartment. Bitch.” He added and the satisfaction was so much he was a small bit worried he might manage to actually drown in it.

Logan gave him a look with wide, mortified eyes, and then groaned, head in his hands. “Out of all the things that could come out of this..” He said, seemingly half to himself and half to Virgil. Virgil snickered.

“Nah,” Virgil said playfully, “there are a lot of things worse than that, like not seeing the sun ever again - I promise you that, pocket protector,” he spoke without a single thought and then looked back over, cringing seeing the sudden pained look on Logan’s face. Shit. That was the worst thing he could’ve said, wasn’t it? 

Virgil reached out, trying to think of something to say to make it better, but Logan waved him off, eyes focused on some invisible point in the middle distance. “Yeah, there is a lot worse,” he said under his breath, and Virgil wasn’t sure who exactly he was speaking too. “This is going to be horrible, isn’t it?” He asked softly.

“Yeah,” Virgil answered honestly, “it’s going to really suck.” He reached out, starting to gently rub circles into Logans back. This time, he didn’t refuse the touch, instead just slightly leaning in to it. “You’ll survive though,” Virgil said, “I mean, I did and I’m a fucking wreck?”

Logan choked out a laugh at that, rubbing his face off before sitting back up, leaning away from Virgil’s touch again. “I’ll uh, keep that in mind.” He said with a small smile. After a second, he dropped back to a more serious tone, “whats.. next? What do we need to do now?” 

Virgil sighed miserably, because he knew the answer and coincidentally fucking hated it. He hated every part of it with his whole being and how much of a trainwreck it would be. “Very fucking simple,” he said, annoyance already building as he pulled out his phone, and started dialing the number in.

“I have to call fucking Janus.”

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Your Friendly Neighbourhood Cryptid

Roman is determined to prove that his friend Patton's fears of a spider cryptid in the forest was unfounded, so joined by his best friend (and maybe crush) Janus, he ventures into the forest at night. Surprisingly, the night takes a surprising twist.

----

| Ao3 |

Warnings: Spider imagery, slightly creepy, and one slightly suggestive comment right at the end but nothing like, bad.

Pairings: Anaroceit

Word Count: 1336

Notes:

Hello everyone!!

This is a very short little fic for day 2 of @anaroceitweek!! This is for the prompt 'Conspiricy' which makes me think of Cryptids haha, and Cryptid Virgil is very very fun :3

This is a very silly short fic I wrote in one sitting haha - I still really like it though! I hope you do too :3

----

“Why are we out here again?” Janus drawled as he pushed back a tree branch with his gloved hand, climbing over a root in the dark. Roman shone his flashlight down so that they could see where they were walking. The forest behind the suburbs where Roman lived was fairly thick and mostly unmanaged, so there weren’t any proper paths to follow.

“You’re the one who chose to come out here with me,” Roman huffed as he climbed down a little ridge, “You didn’t have to be here.”

“Oh certainly not, but seeing your face when Patton is proven right will be worth it I’m sure,” He said with a shrug and a grin as Roman shot a glare behind him at his best friend/maybe crush. It was hard for Roman to see in the darkness, so he wasn’t entirely sure exactly where Janus was, but he was sure that he’d seen the glare. 

“Well you’ve wasted your time, then, because I’m right,” He said, hopping onto a boulder and then hopping to another one, “There are no weird creepy horrifying spider cryptids out here in this forest.”

“Careful,” Janus said, making Roman stop just before he walked face first into a giant spider web. 

“Oh haha,” Roman said, turning so he could walk around the other side of the tree the web was attached to, “Next you’ll be telling me the spider creature made that.”

“Mhm,” Janus nodded, grinning a little as Roman frowned.

Well… there were certainly a lot of webs in this forest, Roman had never actually come this deep before. He was determined, however, to prove to his friend Patton that there were no scary spider creatures in the forest out to get him. For some reason Janus, who seemed to believe Patton’s theories for whatever reason despite how unfounded they were, had come along as well. 

Roman heard something that sounded like a distant clicking and a woosh, as though something had run past. Turning to look in the direction of the sound, however, gained him nothing, even as he swept his flashlight around the clearing they were in. Other than the number of spiderwebs present, he saw nothing, and dismissed it as some kind of woodland creature, maybe a possum, those were creepy as hell. 

“I wonder what that was,” Janus said, in a tone that Roman thought sounded incredibly condescending and honestly that was just unnecessary. 

Roman shrugged anyway, though, “Probably just a regular, normal forest creature.”

“Mmmhm, if you say so,” Janus shrugged. The clicking sound was back, followed by a soft rumble and another few clicks, Roman whipped around, trying to figure out the source of the sound. 

After a long moment of silence, Roman yelped and reeled back a little as his eyes met another pair in the underbrush - a pair with piercing white pupils and softly glowing purple irises - plus black sclera, as if that wasn’t creepy enough already. 

“What the fuck…” Roman whispered as he noticed a second, third and fourth pair of the same eyes open, he took a step back and ended up grabbing onto Janus’ arm.

“Hello there,” Janus said, only then did Roman realise he was smirking, “You can come out, he won’t hurt you.”

Roman’s eyes widened as he looked from Janus to the eyes. He wouldn’t hurt it?? He was slightly more worried about the other way around, actually. 

In a way that was almost shy, the creature stepped into Roman’s torch beam, making him gasp. 

He was humanoid and tall - taller than both Janus and Roman by a long way. Roman thought he must be at least seven foot tall - he had to have been crouching before. 

His hair was pitch black, but the texture looked to be curled, almost frizzy. In the light of the torch Roman could see that his skin was mostly a light, pastel purple, through which darker veins could be seen, making his skin look almost like marble, though down his arms his skin got darker and darker - until at his fingertips it was pitch black. His limbs too were oddly proportioned, in a way that looked just ‘off’ to Roman, he looked like a person, he was shaped like a person, but his arms and legs were too long and it gave Roman an odd uncanny feeling as he looked at him. Mostly, though, he was just…. Incredibly intrigued. 

“Woah,” Roman said softly, staring wide eyed, “You’re uh… real?”

“Last I checked?” He said, seeming… weirdly nervous as all eight of his eyes blinked. Roman thought he should have probably found it creepy, the cryptid - because that’s the only thing that it could have been (Roman might have been wrong, but he wasn’t about to say that out loud).

“You’re… beautiful,” He said, to the surprise of basically everyone there as he slowly detached from Janus to approach. The spider guy looked shocked as Roman walked up, circling him before stopping to look up at him, “Wow…” He said softly.

“Wh-what?” the creature said, turning his head to track Roman but not fully turning around. Janus was smirking in the background, “Hey - you cut it out, stop smirking at me.”

“I told you he’d like you,” Janus said, sounding very smug. Roman looked back at him. 

“You were in on this?” He asked, glaring at him, “You knew?”

Shrugging, Janus walked over, placing a hand on the spider’s arm, “Well I’d hope so, considering we’re dating.”

“You what??”

“Are you gonna be surprised by everything?” The spider guy asked, tilting his head.

“Well- I- yeah, actually, I am!” He said, eyes wide, the cryptid startled a little bit, “I just found out the spider cryptid in the woods is real and apparently dating my best friend!”

“And beautiful, don’t forget that,” Janus hummed, Roman went bright pink.

“I- Oh my god, I’m sorry-” He said, looking between Janus and the thing, “I didn’t mean to hit on your cryptid boyfriend.”

With a snort, Janus shook his head, even the spider was smiling.

“It’s fine,” He said, “And I’m Virgil, by the way - um, if you really want to hit on me you can.”

“What.”

“I mean, I’m just saying, I don’t mind,” He defended, “I mean - it’s fine if not, I know you humans are weird about monogamy sometimes, but-”

“No no no - that’s not the problem,” Roman said, raising his hands, he was perfectly happy with polyamory, he’d experimented with it before in a relationship and found it appealed to him (though the lack of communication in that particular relationship had put him off a while)

“I’m okay with it too,” Janus said, “If that’s the problem, you are… fine.”

“That’s Janus talk for ‘I like you’,” Virgil translated, making both Janus and Roman turn beet red. 

“So, wait,” Roman said, putting up his hands, “Let me figure this out.”

Both of them nodded. 

“So you,” He gestured to Virgil, “Are a spider cryptid who lives out here in the woods?”

“Mhm,”

“And you,” He gestures to Janus, “Are dating him?”

“Yes,” Janus nodded.

“So…. was this whale thing just a ploy to get me out here?”

“Potentially,” Janus smirked, Roman groaned, “Well - Patton’s fears are very real, of course, and him asking you for help was simply convenient, so I talked to Virgil about it - because normally you wouldn’t have found anything.”

“He told me he had a really cute friend he thought I’d like who was coming out ‘cryptid hunting’ in the forest tonight so I agreed to actually show up.”

“And?” Roman asked.

“And…?”

“And… do you like me?” Roman asked, leaning forward a little, Virgil smirked.

“Yeah,” He said with a shrug, “I believe so, do… you like me? Janus said you would.”

Smirking, Roman nodded, “Yeah, I’m pretty sure I do - but uh… I’ve never dated a cryptid before…”

“Oh trust me, it’s a lot of fun,” Janus grinned, making Virgil blush a deeper, richer purple colour. Roman giggled.

“I’m looking forward to it.”

----

Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 ( if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)

[glacierruler]

You are the Sun and I the Moon

Ao3

Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

Ships: Prinxiety

Genre: Fluff

This was done for @prinxietyweek

My darling Virgil,

You are the sun, and I the moon. Your glare scorches the earth, leaving people trembling in your wake, hoping for a cloud or two for cover. You leave sunburns and wilt crops with your heat. And yet you are glorious and majestic, and no one seems to notice. Except for I, the moon, who can only see your burning light and reflect it ever so much. People revere me, and yet they shan’t know who I am if it weren’t for you and your wondrous light. Light, that helps the plants grow and animals thrive, and if only those around could understand that your smile is filled with radiance as rare as it may be, and oh if only I could see that smile a million times over I would be content; and I would be all the more ecstatic about it if that smile were just for me. The only person in the world who could truly understand you.

Sincerely, Roman

Dear Roman,

You can just tell me you love me y’know? I’m your boyfriend? I love you too you doofus. Also when do you find the time to write these?

Sincerely, Virgil

[canonically47]

new fic is up!!! intrulogical plagues me

READ HERE !!!

[edupunkn00b]

Roomies, Ch. 5: Stitches on Old Scars

Prev - Stitches on Old Scars - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

WC: 4153 - Rated: T - CW: mental health, angst/comfort, see tags - Written for @intrualityweek 2024: Scars

Things start to change when Re returns from Thanksgiving Break.

“Hung like a pelt like some prey you had worn… Remember m—”

For the sixth time that morning, Re’s alarm cut off, snoozed. But Re barely budged, and stayed put where he was, huddled under the cocoon of blankets he’d built for himself on his bed.

Patton had been up since before dawn, bubbling excitement at Re’s return from Thanksgiving break pulling him from the comfort of his bed. He’d already showered and dressed, even changed his outfit twice after checking the day’s weather forecast. Each stir or sigh from Re’s side of the room stole his attention and he’d watch, intently, waiting to see if Re was about to wake or was just moving in his sleep as he did sometimes.

Thanksgiving break alone in the dorms had been long. And even lonelier than Patton had expected. It took every scrap of patience he had not to make a little extra noise and ‘accidentally’ wake Re before his alarm just so he could talk to him.

”Bring it in, Pattonting,” Ro had cheered, arms open wide, when Patton had gone to see the three of them off the Tuesday night before break. Logan was already buckled into the passenger seat, adjusting the air vents and tapping at his phone as he planned their rest stops on the way back to Re and Ro’s house.

Relishing the hug, Patton hid his face against Ro’s shoulder. He supposed Re and Ro’s parents’ place was all three of their homes now. “Enjoy the peace while the gremlin is with me,” Ro said, not quite as quietly as he could have. Patton peeked over Ro’s shoulder just as Re looked away, jaw clenched tight.

”I’m gonna miss you all but I know you’ll be back soon,” he said, still watching Re even as he hugged Ro tighter. He might’ve imagined it, but he thought Re’s face softened just a bit.

”We have a guest room,” Ro said, pulling back to meet his eyes. After much discussion over breakfasts, the brothers had approached their parents about dropping the façcade that Ro and Logan needed separate bedrooms. This trip home would be the first where Logan had officially moved out of the guest room and into Ro’s.

Patton pressed a smile onto his face. “Thanksgiving’s for family,” he said before clearing his throat, hoping it disguised the wobble in his voice.

Re moved a little closer, brow furrowed. “Thanksgiving’s for whoever the fuck we say it is.”

Patton shook his head, dropping his voice. “It’s Logan’s first holiday without… you know.” He stepped back and whispered past his tightening throat, “You all need to focus on him. I’d be a distraction.”

Arms crossed over his chest, Re had frowned. “You’re not a distraction, Pattycake. Besides, it’s kinda fucked up your parents picked this of all weeks to go on a cruise.”

”I told you,” Patton stared at the ground, the lie thick and sour on his tongue. “It was a contest. They couldn’t pick the date.”

Logan lowered the window and called to them, “If we wish to avoid the typical traffic on I-5, we should endeavor to leave now.”

”You are right, mi amour,” Roman purred, giving Patton’s shoulder one more squeeze before hurrying to the driver’s side.

That had left him and Re alone together outside the car. Re had stood next to him, hands jammed in his pockets. “We’ll be back Sunday night,” he murmured. “Probably late. But…” He’d grinned, a little dimmer than usual, but it had been a long day. Really, he'd been looking tired all week and Patton hoped he’d get the chance to sleep a little on the car ride back home.

Despite his exhaustion, Re had smiled and bumped their shoulders together with a little hum. “Breakfast together Monday?”

”You got it, Roomie,” Patton had smiled back. “Looking forward to it.”

After closing the drawer on the tee-shirts he’d folded and refolded twice already while he’d waited for Re to wake, Patton crept closer to his bed. “Re?” he spoke quietly, hoping he caught him before he drifted back to sleep while his alarm snoozed. “It’s after eight.” Toes scrunched against the fluffy throw rug Re had brought from home, Patton bit his lip. “Are you not feeling so good?”

Turned out he was awake. Re let out a heavy sigh from beneath the covers and poked his head out just far enough to reveal his eyes and a swath of wild green hair. His auburn roots were showing. Maybe they could go get more of dye downtown over the weekend.

Re shook his head but looked away before their eyes could meet. “I’m…” Face half-hidden beneath the comforter and weighted blanket, his voice came out quiet and muffled. 

Patton crouched down to better hear him.

“I’m just… just really tired,” he finished at last.

“You fell asleep as soon as you got in last night.” Patton frowned and, all on its own accord, his hand jerked closer to the tuft of hair poking out from the blankets. “Are you sure you're not coming down with something?” Forcing his hand back, he knelt and pressed both hands together in his lap.

Re shifted under the blankets. A shrug, maybe.

“Hang on,” Patton murmured and pushed up to his feet and rushed to the bathroom. After fumbling around a bit under the sink, he finally found what he was looking for, the thermometer that came with their little first aid kit. It probably wasn't super accurate, but it should at least show if he had a fever.

“Here, Re,” he said when he returned to his spot next to Re’s bed. “Lemme check your temperature, okay?”

“You don't hafta…” Re shook his head but watched him closely. 

“Please?” Patton gave him a half-smile. “That way we know what we’re dealing with.”

Re didn’t answer out loud. Instead he nodded and leaned his head a little closer. Patton’s smile grew and he touched the device to his forehead. After a second, it beeped twice and the screen glowed green. He pulled it away, knocking a mess of curls over Re’s eyes. Before he could stop himself, he tucked the hair back, the locks soft and damp against his fingers.

His hand lingered when Re closed his eyes with a low hum and seemed to lean into the touch. Then he looked back at Patton with big, red-rimmed eyes. “No fever,” he murmured, not asking.

“No fever,” Patton confirmed, shaking his head. Re nodded and burrowed deeper under the covers, leaving Patton’s hand hovering in the empty air. He knelt beside Re’s bed for a long moment before patting the blanket. “Do you wanna get a little more rest? I’ll bring you something from the dining hall.” 

Re poked his head out from the blankets again. “You really don’t hafta do that.”

“Will you be mad at me if I do?”

He shook his head, eyes soft. “Of course not, Pat.”

Patton grinned. “Then I’ll be back in half an hour with some goodies for you. A little nutrition will help you get your strength back.”

Re looked at him for a long while, expression flat and drained. Eventually he nodded and gave a weak smile. “Thank you.”

“Anytime, Roomie,” he grinned and smoothed out the blanket. His eyes caught on Re’s meds on the side of his desk and the half-drunk water bottle next to them. “Do you…” he started, reaching for the bottles. 

“Yeah… need to,” Re said, voice low as he sat up a little and accepted them, dumping out a few pills into his hand and swallowing them down with a sip of water. He started to twist the water cap back on but stopped when Patton raised his eyebrows.

Patton smiled again when Re took three good gulps. “Hydrate or die straight,” he chuckled.

“Can’t have that,” Re muttered and settled back into bed when Patton took the bottles from him and set them back on the table.

“I’ll be back,” he promised and, with a little wave, slipped out of the room and rushed down to the dining hall.

~

“Morning, Pat!” Ro gave him a half-hug from behind, curling over his chair to reach him. 

“Oh, good morning!” Patton hugged back as best he could, twisting his head to grin up at Ro and then at Logan. They were late, no doubt also recovering from the trip that had so drained Re. “It’s good to see you!”

Watching them settle into their usual seats across the table, it was easy to forget who was missing that morning.

For a minute at least.

“Re’s taking his time getting coffee, I see,” Ro muttered, scowling at the empty seat next to Patton.

Logan’s gaze lingered on Patton’s half-empty coffee cup before meeting his eyes. Patton shrugged. “Yeah, Re’s sleeping in today.”

“Oh? Is he ill?” Logan frowned and sat back as though Patton was carrying the same germs that had brought down Re.

“I don’t—“ Patton shook his head then tried again. “He doesn’t have a fever, but…”

Ro set down his fork and gave him his full attention. It was not nearly as reassuring as Patton might’ve imagined it would be.

“He said he was feeling… bad. Tired. Like sick, but…” Patton struggled to find words beyond ‘bad feeling’ to describe the way his stomach had twisted when he’d looked into Re’s eyes that morning. “Maybe like… mentally bad, y’know? I know he takes medication but…” Patton’s voice fell away, ashamed that after four months of living together he didn’t even know what Re took. Or why.

“Yeah,” Ro frowned into his coffee. “He… he gets into funks like that sometimes. It’s best to give him some space or he’ll just take your head off.” He pushed back his hair, revealing a tiny white line just above his ear. “I still have a scar from where he threw a book at me when I tried to get him up for school in eighth grade.” 

He kissed Logan’s temple before getting up and sliding into Re’s usual spot at Patton’s side. Ro squeezed his shoulder with a sympathetic smile. “He’ll snap out of it after a few days and be right back to his usual Dr. Frankfurter impressions in no time.”

“Really?” Patton gnawed at the corner of his lip. Re hadn’t seemed like he wanted to be left alone all day. The tiny smile Re had given him when he promised to come back had been fragile and shaky but… real. “I… I think I’m still gonna bring him something, y’know?” He shrugged, wrapping a napkin around the second breakfast burrito he’d snagged. Finally cool enough to handle, it was stuffed with eggs and cheese and mushrooms, plus an extra scoop of those bell peppers Re liked so much. Protein, vitamins. That’s what he needed. “He’ll feel better with something in his belly. Well,” he shrugged. “At least he won’t feel worse.”

“That is admirable of you,” Logan murmured before taking a bite of his own eggs. He chewed then adjusted his eyeglasses. “However, if Roman’s experience with his brother holds true and you need to metaphorically ‘steer clear’ of your room for a while”—He paused and caught Ro’s eye, continuing only after he nodded—”You are more than welcome to figuratively ‘crash’ in our room.” 

For the first time all day, Patton almost laughed. “Thanks, you two. I appreciate it. I’m… I’m gonna play it by ear.” The thought of Re back in their room, alone and huddled under the covers wiped away his smile. “Who knows… maybe he’s changed a bit? He…” The memory of Re giving Philip a gentle pat after he’d returned him filled his mind. “He’s not really the way he was back in high school.” Had he ever been? Patton shook the thought away and finished his coffee.

“If you say so,” Ro muttered before looking up at the wall clock behind Logan. “Ah, shit! I’m late for rehearsal.”

Logan checked his watch, nodding when Roman kissed his cheek and dashed from the table. “Indeed. I regret I must leave as well.” He nodded down at Patton as he stood and gathered his and Roman’s empty trays. “The offer stands, Patton. You are welcome if you need alternative lodging for a few days.”

“Thanks, Logan,” he nodded, tucking the still-warm breakfast burrito in his jacket pocket along with some fruit. The yogurt and extra coffee he could carry out without catching too much attention for taking food from the dining hall. And after a little extra rest, Re could fill up at lunch later in the day. "See you later."

~

By the end of the week, Re wasn’t any better. If anything, Patton thought he was getting worse.

Patton had just returned from dinner, a foil-wrapped packet of chickpea samosas hidden under his jacket on one side and a bottle of juice on the other. His pockets were filled with three applesauce cups, two bananas, and a short stack of macadamia cookies wrapped in a napkin. Re barely moved when he entered their room. “Re?” he whispered. “You awake?”

The room had gotten musty over the week, the scent of musk and sweat heavy in the air. Patton glanced at Re’s towel through the open bathroom door, still neatly folded and hanging from the rod.

Patton was pretty sure Re hadn’t touched it since before he’d left for break.

Tiptoeing in, he crept around Re’s bed and set down the food on his desk. Re had eaten only a bite or two of the sandwich he’d brought him for lunch, and the salad sat untouched next to it, the collection shelf-stable condiments still sealed in their packets. Half the juice was gone, so there was that, but Re had eaten even less of lunch than he had of breakfast that morning.

Patton gathered up the sandwich and the half-empty juice to put in the fridge. Neither would do him any good sitting out like that. It was only when he turned from their minifridge he realized Re was awake, watching him over the top fold of his blanket. “Oh, Re, you’re up,” he smiled and took his spot on the floor next to Re’s bed.

“‘M sorry I didn’t finish… you went to all that trouble and…” His voice was thin and tight, like it took nearly all the effort he had just to speak. “‘M sorry,” he said again and looked away.

”It’s okay, Re,” Patton murmured. “Maybe…” He scooted closer, peering at his friend. “Maybe you just need to work up a little appetite?” he said, voice rising at the end in a question. He offered a hand and broadened his grin. “Wanna go for a little walk around the quad? You can bring the samosas and munch while we—” He stopped when Re shook his head and retreated deeper under the covers.

”I’m a mess, Pat, I… Maybe tomorrow?”

Patton couldn’t tell if he really meant it or if he would beg off a walk tomorrow morning, too. Tomorrow was Saturday, at least, with the dining hall open later for breakfast and Patton wouldn’t have any classes to rush off to after trying to make sure he ate something. “Tomorrow,” he agreed, before holding up his hand. “Pinkie promise?” he asked, only half-joking. “And you have to try to eat something tonight while it’s still warm." He swallowed hard, pushing away Ro's scar and the voice in his head telling him what Re needed was space. "Okay?”

Re nodded solemnly, pulling one hand out from under the covers and hooking their pinkies together. “Promise.”

~

The sky was pitch black and only a sliver of the moon shone through the spindly bare trees out the window when Remus peeled open his eyes. They were so dry he swore he could hear them drag and pop with each blink. Everything ached, his head, his throat, his fucking skin. His limbs were heavy and slow, and it took several tries just to get his arm untangled from the blankets to check his watch.

He’d let the battery die. His phone had died, too, last night just before Pat came home.

Pat’s phone was probably where he usually set it on his own desk, propped up in that cute little night mode, dim clock announcing the time so they’d both be able to see it when they sat up in bed. Remus could see the glow but sitting up? Yeah, sitting wasn’t gonna happen.

He let his eyes click shut again, lids scraping. Probably dehydrated. Pat’d convinced him to have most of his juice last night but a cup and a half of fluid was a far cry from what he usually had and his body was screaming in protest.

He just couldn’t manage to drag his sorry ass outta bed to do something about it.

In the morning. In the morning, he’d get up. He’d get up and do more than dry swallow his pills. He’d take a shower and scrub the crud off his skin. He'd  go for a walk and email all his professors and find a way to pay Pat back for all he’d done and… 

Remus sighed. He’d get up tomorrow. He had to. He’d promised Pat he would.

Pat’s little smile and the soft warmth of his pinkie curled around his flitted through his mind as he drifted back to sleep.

Evergreens whizzed by out the window, miles and miles and miles of an unbroken fuzzy line of deep green and brown spreading out in both directions. Remus sat behind the driver’s seat in Ro’s car, forehead pressed to the cool glass of the window. Next to him was the empty passenger seat behind Logan, and out that window he spied the edge of the road, a narrow gully and a flimsy guardrail the only things separating the road from the cliff overlooking the distant sea. Grey water striped in thin peaks of white stretched out as far as he could see. 

The car ride was hypnotic, and after a while RoLo’s flirty banter faded away with the rhythm of the road, the passing trees, and the tires buzzing over the highway.

A rumble from the grooved sleeper lines jerked him to full alertness and he looked up.

Ro and Logan were gone, front seats vacant. But the car drove on, accelerating as it veered off the road and toward the edge. Remus yanked at his seatbelt, stabbing at the release button, but the catch wouldn’t budge. The door handle was frozen in place and as the car began to tip, a scream ripped up from his throat. He squeezed his eyes shut, bracing for the—

“Re?” Pat’s quiet voice tore him from his dream. The hand on his shoulder was gentle, a welcome coolness under the heavy duvet. Forehead scrunched with worry, Pat leaned over his bed, only half-dressed, jeans pulled on but unbelted. The squares on his unbuttoned plaid shirt reminded Re of the forest in his dream. “I’m sorry… It sounded like you were having a nightmare.”

Re sucked in a shaky breath. Freeing hands twisted in the sheets, he wiped his face with the back of his hand. Both were drenched with sweat. As if he couldn't get any grosser. “Yeah, “ he managed, tasting the rotten copper of own tongue. Whoever said you couldn't smell your own halitosis had never felt like this. He tugged the blankets up over his mouth in the stupid, stupid hope Pat somehow wouldn't notice how bad his breath smelled. “Yeah, I—I was.”

Pat scooted closer and gave him that same sweet smile he’d shared when he’d first offered to bring him breakfast. “Would it help to talk about it?”

Remus shook his head. He didn't even know where to start and the dream was slipping through his fingers with each exhale. “I’m okay.”

Lies.

He closed his eyes, the sadness in Pat’s big blue eyes more than he could bear. “I’m okay,” he repeated. “You should go to breakfast. I… I think I’m gonna get a little more rest.” Maybe Pat would ignore the tremor in his voice. He could ignore it and go have breakfast with RoLo and they could keep him company and they could make him laugh and help him forget his filthy, disgusting loser of a roommate who couldn't even manage to get to the dining hall in days, let alone actually attend one of the classes his parents were paying thousands of dollars a semester for and—

“No.”

Remus’ eyes snapped open. Pat stared back at him, eyes wide with fear, but his rosy lips were pressed together in a sharp, determined line. “What?”

“N—no,” Pat repeated, shaking his head as he held up his little finger. “Ro said you just needed space but you pinky swore you would go for a walk this morning and I'm going to hold you to that promise.” 

“Wha—what?” Remus said again, nearly not caring how dumb he sounded.

“You can hate me later, but I’m not leaving this room without you.” He stood and took one step back before looking down at his open shirt and blushing. “Well, and once I, uh, finish getting dressed.” 

Unsure if he was actually awake or only dreaming, Remus stared as Pat buttoned up and tucked in his shirt. He tightened his belt before squaring his shoulders and holding out his hand for him to take. The rest of Pat’s words slowly sank in, thorny vines spreading over his heart and spiraling up his chest and into his throat. “I could never hate you, Pat,” he muttered. Remus’ arm snaked up to push away the blanket and take his hand. The covers were heavy and he paused, shaking his head. “I just…” 

Soft hands closed over his and pushed the blankets down. A wave of foul, musky air rose up, his own filth threatening to choke them both. To his credit, Pat quickly smoothed away his grimace and his half-smile returned. “Well, good, because the first step for you is a shower.”

With more strength than Remus knew he had, Pat gently pulled him up to his feet. The heat of his touch pressed in fresh awareness as he looked around the room. 

Except for his eyesore of a bed, their room was spotless. Even the windows shone, cleaner than they’d been when they’d first moved in. The laundry bag of clean clothes he’d brought from home sat neatly in the corner of his closet, no longer half-dumped on the floor next to his bed. A small collection of sealed juice bottles and a bowl of fruit sat on top of their minifridge, along with a stack of packaged crackers and cookies. Re's phone, no longer under the bed where he'd dropped when the battery died, now sat charging on his desk.

When had Pat done all this?

His movements must have slowed because Pat’s hands firmed at his back, nudging him closer to the bathroom. “The hot water will feel good,” he promised. “Take as much time as you need. I’ll be right out here.”

”Wait—” Remus turned and reached for Pat’s arm before he could pull away completely. “Will you—” The bed called to him, safe and dark and warm. Soft, nothing sharp in sight. His eyes flicked toward the bathroom. Toilet cleaner, Pat’s razor, scissors. Matches. “Will you… Could you stay in there while I… Just to…” His voice failed and he hung his head, eyes on the floor. Fuck, even his toenails looked gross, untrimmed and curling in. He longed to shed his skin and hair and nails and just start all over again, to tear off the old and emerge wet and new and raw. 

Pat was quiet and Remus risked a glance at his face. Was he shocked? Scared? Disgusted? But Pat wasn’t looking at him, eyes fixed instead where he’d grabbed his arm. 

Remus’ nails were bitten to the quick, cuticles jagged and ripped, with nasty scabs where he’d torn too far into flesh and bled. His hand shook, but Pat’s arm was steady in his grip. He should let go, fuck, he knew he should let go but he just couldn’t force his hand to release him. Pat’s flannel was soft but thin, and the warmth of his arm bled through the material and into Re’s palm. 

Pat’s hand covered his and he closed his eyes, waiting for him to pry his fingers away and leave. Instead, Pat stroked Remus’ hand and slid his grip down, holding his hand between both of his own. “Okay,” he murmured, pink lips curled in a gentle smile. “I’ll stay in there with you. Whatever you need.”

Remus searched his eyes. Did he really just say yes?

He nodded and walked with him to the bathroom. “I’ll get your water started while you get undressed.”

[littlerat2]

Premonitions

Chapter 1: Blood and Ash

WARNINGS: Blood, death, nightmares. I think that's it? But! As always, please lemme know if I should add any others :)

Summary: The start of something horrible.

AO3

Words: 507

Author's Note: Thank you so much to @logan-the-artist for beta reading this fic for me! This is quite short. For that I apologize, however the chapters to come should be longer! I will probably be quite slow updating this, but i promise I will update it eventually. If that ever changes, I will be sure to let y'all know! <3

“I warned you,” Virgil started, shaking his head and blinking back tears. He kneeled beside the bloodsoaked prince, taking his head in his lap. “I said loving me would get you killed.” He tried to bark out a bitter laugh, but it came out more like a sob.

Roman just offered a bloody, but genuine smile. “Wasn’t it worth it, though?” Though his eyelids drooped, and his chest heaved out ragged breaths, he looked like there was nowhere he’d rather be.

“Nothing is worth losing you,” Virgil whispered shakily. He couldn’t do it. He couldn’t look at Roman’s perfect, bloody lips curled in such a sweet smile. He couldn’t watch his cloudy, green eyes drift over his figure. He couldn’t watch Roman die.

He broke down sobbing into Roman’s shoulder as he clutched him close to his chest.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry! I-I’m so sorry.” He pulled back to look at Roman’s face, and Roman took this as an opportunity to wipe his tears away with a shaky hand. His blood colored Virgil’s pale cheek crimson.

“Don’t cry,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not! You-you’re gonna die!” He pressed his forehead to Roman’s. “I told you this was dangerous. I-I knew it was. But I let you get close anyway. God, I-... Roman, I-I’m so sorry,” he wept. His lungs burned, both with the panic of losing Roman, and the ash that quickly got swept up into his lungs. They sat alone in a burnt building. When did they get there? Virgil may have known at some point, but right now he didn’t remember. He didn’t care. All that mattered right now was the man rapidly dying in his arms.

“If I could go back,” Roman heaved. “I’d do everything the same.”

“You’re- you’re dying, Roman! It’s not-”

“I got to meet you,” Roman said with a grin. “I got to love you.” With shaking hands, he pulled Virgil’s body closer to his own. “I love you so much, Virgil. Tell Remus I love him. Patton and Logan too. You’ll be okay. All of you-”

“Stop it, Roman! Stop! You’re- you’re accepting it! You can’t- Just- hold on. I-I can-” Virgil choked on his words, the thick, ash-filled air filling his lungs with every breath.

“You can’t stay here. There’s nothing you can do,” Roman said softly. “Tell my stories. All of them. I don’t- I don’t care what you have to do, just… Get 'em out there.” He smiled, tears rolling down his cheeks. “I love you.”

Virgil watched as the light faded from Roman’s emerald eyes as he exhaled. Clutching the dead man to his chest, he wailed. All color and life draining from his world.

“I love you too,” he sobbed. “I loved you so, so much, Roman. More than you’ll ever know.”

Sniffling, Virgil set the dead man’s head in his lap, brushing aside chestnut strands of hair out of his face. “I’m sorry.”

Then, he woke up. Sun shining on his face, and the still-breathing body of his boyfriend beside him.

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[tss-storytime]

Writer-Artist Matches for 2024 TSS Storytime!

We are excited to announce the writers and artists for this year's TSS Storytime Big Bang!

Writer: @glacierruler, Artist: @thebestworstidea

Writer: @prince-rowan-of-the-forest, Artist: @ax3-e0ns

Writer: @starshineandbooks, Artist: @ax3-e0ns

Writer: @greenninjagal-blog, Artist: @dragonsarecats

Writer: @c-swirlz, Artist: @greymillieattheball

Writer: @canvas-the-florist, Artist: @tastic-in-its-finest

Writer: @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat, Artist: @canvas-the-florist

Writer: @sleepy-nova-tea, Artist: @failing-at-failing

Writer: @thewickedcompanion, Artist: @bitterpoison

Writer dropped

Writer: @typically-untypical, Artist: @failing-at-failing

Writer: @not-sure-what-im-feeling, Artist: @thebestworstidea

Writer: @nandysparadox, Artist: @bitterpoison

Writer: @pandagobrr, Artist: @tastic-in-its-finest

Writer: @thebestworstidea, Artist: @prince-rowan-of-the-forest

Writer: @jack-enbyfold, Artist: @canvas-the-florist

Writer: @annaizscribbling, Artist: @onthevirgeofdestruction

Writer: @logarhythm-bees, Artist: @prince-rowan-of-the-forest

Writer: @wolfprincesszola, Artist: @thebestworstidea

Writer: @shadowling-guistical, Artist: @thegoldenduckie

Writer: @yerkes-dodson-curve, Artist: @failing-at-failing

Writer: @infinitesimal-dna, Artist: @logarhythm-bees

Writer: @katelyn-a-fan, Artist: @incognetomisquito

Writer: @emo-princey, Artist: @thegoldenduckie

Writer: @groovieghostie, Artist: @logarhythm-bees

Stories and art post in August!

[chirp-featherfowl]

dawn of creation

(OHHHHHH MY GOD TUMBLR CRUSHED MY ART AGAIN. CLICK FOR HIGHER QUALITY. HOLY SHIT)

little logan under the cut because of course he wasn't there for it