#that's the perfect time for roman to sink his claws into him again.

[jeysuso]

happy samijey sunday it's 10:41am and i've made myself cry already

[happyk44]

Frank having really bad depersonalization moments and realizing he can ground himself if he changes. So sometimes he'll turn over in bed and tell Hazel, "I'm going to be a bear today" and she kisses the top of his head and says, "Okay" and they move around some furniture and bear-proof things they can't move, and Hazel opens up the deep freeze to let some raw meat thaw on the counter for later, and Frank shifts and changes into a bear, or wolf, or cat, any animal his fuzzy head tells him will relax the world into a shape close enough for him to recognize again.

And sometimes it's enough to just be what he needs to be, to lay on the floor, furry and huge, while Hazel scratches behind his ears and he rests.

And sometimes it's not enough, and they leave for forests and plains and wildlife, and he shifts and changes and walks around with the creatures that match him. After a while, some accept him as part of the grounp. They croon when he leaves with Hazel, who sometimes waits at a safe distance, watching her boyfriend give in to animal urges, and they howl and roar and growl when he comes back days, weeks, months later.

They know he's different, but they accept him anyway. They teach him like a newborn, how to run, how to walk, how to hunt, how to stalk, how to fly high about the trees, how to shoot down to the ground. When he's human, he reads, he studies. When he's not, he observes and copies.

It helps him, it grounds him, it pulls back the cotton wrapped around his mind, and when he looks at furry paws or sharp talons, he doesn't feel as out of place as he did before. When he digs in deep dirt, or splashes into clear waters, or stalks prey with inhuman precision, it settles him.

There's a sense of power that rumbles deep in his warfare blood. He is kind, and he is a child of Mars, protector, peacekeeper, father of the Roman people. He leads predators away when he is prey. He cares for the young when requested. He watches nests with unborn eggs to keep them safe from predators and other sneaky birds. Urges mediation between factions.

Then strikes blood and vicious when there is no choice but to bite. He is kind, but he is angry, and he will fight cruel and head-on if he must.

When the day is done, and it's time to sink away, he nuzzles softly and calls out with a throaty caw and shifts scales for skin, fur for hair, talons for nails, and settles at Hazel's side.

Sometimes she stays and watches. Sometimes she leaves and lets him be. But she always kisses his face before he runs off and kisses him when he comes back. She always smiles and asks, "How'd it go? Feeling good?"

If he murmurs, "yes", she squeezes his hands, and shadows whisk them away. If he murmurs, "no", she squeezes his hands, and shadows whisk them away, and he settles on hardwood floors with soft fur and Hazel's calloused hands scratching away behind his ears.

There's no true perfection. The world is always twisted. His reflection is always wrong. His skin is always strange.

But he breathes better when his mind whispers rapid for claws and fangs and feathers and he agrees. The fog in his head lightens when he shifts. The world becomes clearer.

Sometimes its better for him to stay human. His furry skin feels strange when he shifts to battle. His beak pulls weird at his mouth. He doesn't feel real when he's an animal. He looks for ways to get around the necessity for fighting, for infiltration, for spying.

Then sometimes its a requirement. He needs to sink into colourful scales and fast fins to be real. Turning his skin into brown fur and his nails to sharp claws is the only option to settle his crawling skin and foggy reflection. Sometimes hung across Hazel's shoulders as a snake is what saves him from the numbness of his emotions.

Sometimes shifting is the only thing that keeps him alive.

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Nobody Left Behind

Prompt: So I don't know if you're taking requests? But I just watched Lilo and Stitch for the first time since I got into TSS and I've adopted the headcanon that it is Remus's *favorite* movie (and he's memorized the script) and I love your writing and I'd love to see something angsty involving Remus feeling lonely/unloved by his brother, and maybe Lilo and Stitch is involved somehow. IDK, go wild. (and feel free to ignore this if you aren't taking requests) <3 - anon

it is Le Fluff™ hours my good bitches

Read on Ao3

Warnings: Remus has some abandonment issues, but it’s not too much

Pairings: it is platonic all the way down, babes

Word Count:  2935

Ohana means family.

 Family.

 FamILY.

 What a weird word.

Sometimes it’s the people you’re born with. Well, not ‘with,’ not necessarily, but the people you are born to. A mother, a father, a sister, a brother. Sometimes two mothers, sometimes two fathers, sometimes a different parent. Sometimes two sisters, sometimes two brothers, sometimes a different sibling. Sometimes a mess of assorted people that all share the same blood. A family.

 Remus wasn’t born.

 He was made though, crafted and shaped and born out of the swirling chaos of a child’s mind that didn’t understand the world well enough without other people to help. He remembers getting cobbled together from scraps of thoughts and feelings and morphing them into limbs, into features, into something that vaguely resembled the body of the child he was made to fit. Not the ‘fitting’ was ever his job.

 Just his brother’s.

 Is his brother his family?

 By all accounts he should be, right? A brother is one of those people that are traditionally part of the ‘family’ group, right, someone to laugh with, cry with, fight with, live with. But is Roman really his…brother?

 That’s what they decided to call themselves because nothing else worked. They weren’t really brothers, they were halves. But they weren’t really halves because there was never a whole to begin with.

 The King wasn’t a ‘whole,’ he was…well, he was the King. Half of a king is not a prince. Half of a king is not a duke.

 Half of a king is a mess of blood and bones and viscera dripping off of the end of a Morningstar in the middle of the night when only a destroyed facsimile makes the insanity bleed away just enough to breathe again.

 The closest thing to twins, is what they decided on eventually. They’re twins. One light, one dark. One that marches boldly into danger to confront the wickedness of the world, one that dwells in the shadows and cackles with the demons nipping at his heels. One that loves, one that isn’t loved.

 Sure, they had some things in common. They both loved to fight, hence the scars and the bruises and the wounds that would never, ever heal, the distrust that would never be fixed ever, because the urge to sink their teeth into each other’s necks and rip never went away. They both loved to make, Roman the peaceful lies he tells himself to make up for the gaping wounds Remus leaves as he carves his perfectly tailored destruction. They both love Disney.

 Roman’s made it part of his whole deal as the Prince, he loves Disney. He bursts into song every chance he gets, drags the others in until the Mindscape rings with joyful song and there’s nowhere left for any sadness or darkness. He takes his lessons from it, models himself using the traits of the characters he admires most. Cultivates his art of storytelling, perfect to a tee.

 Remus loves Disney too. Loves how easy it is to twist the lens to distort the image just enough to let the darker parts of the Imagination run wild. What is the real implication of never growing old, never understanding what it means to die? What kind of person curses a ten-year-old boy for being cautious about who he answers the door to? What could the story have been if the prince never comes to save the day?

 When they were smaller it was fine. When they were still getting used to the fact that they weren’t King anymore, they used to sit and watch so many Disney movies. Roman’s favorite was always changing, one week it was Beauty and the Beast, then it was Mulan, then it was Cinderella, it never stayed the same.

 Remus’s was always Lilo and Stitch.

 Roman never understood it, said it was boring, there wasn’t a prince, there wasn’t anything exciting. Remus said that aliens were plenty exciting, thank you very much.

 But they would always watch it. The King wasn’t there anymore, but the prince and the Duke were.

 …when they were smaller, there was one time where the prince wasn’t there at all.

 Remus remembers waking up one day and feeling like he was being Split all over again. The maggots in his bones reached their awful little mouths into his heart and pulled, yanking him all the way across the bed and to the door, howling and screaming for his twin.

 Only to be met with a blank wall.

 He remembers howling at the top of his lungs until Janus had rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him and telling him shh, be quiet, hush now, you’re alright, you’re not hurt. And when he couldn’t explain that he was hurt, half of him was missing, Remus needed to go find him, Janus’s mouth had hardened into a thin line and told him that there wasn’t anything to worry about.

 He remembers thinking that was a lie.

 But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a lie.

 Roman was fine.

 Roman was more than fine, because Roman had a family.

 Roman had Patton, who is the actual manifestation of sunshine and rainbows and loved so much it almost burns. The darkness that wrapped around Remus’s corner of the Imagination screeched and hissed at the very idea of being loved that much, even as part of him strained with all its might to get to it. But Patton would never set foot near this side of the Mindscape.

 Roman had Logan, who represents everything true about the Mindscape, about Thomas, about the world. The reality of things that would never let anything Remus created make it anywhere close to anything important because it was dangerous, it was hurtful, and it was wrong. Logan wouldn’t want anything to do with something so useless.

 And that was okay. Because Roman may have been gone but Remus wasn’t alone. Remus had Virgil, who lived with fear soaking every fiber of his being. Remus had Janus, who wrapped himself in darkness and obscurity and laughed.

 But then Virgil left. And now Roman had Virgil, who used Thomas’s anxieties to keep him safe, to help Roman and the others figure out what to do, how to take care of everybody, and how to make the darkness go away. And Virgil would never willingly sink himself back into the darkness when he’d spent so long clawing himself out of it.

 But that was okay, because Remus had Janus. Janus, who plotted and schemed and smirked at how easily the others were pulled along by his strings, luring them deeper and deeper as Remus readied his Morningstar for the trap to be sprung.

 But then they sprung the trap and everything went wrong.

 Roman didn’t want to fight. He just…he let Remus knock him out and didn’t show up again except to scoff and say he didn’t like him.

 And that was…wrong.

 Because Roman wasn’t supposed to like him but he was never only supposed to not like him. Roman was supposed to declare that he wasn’t welcome and try and slash him with his sword. Roman was supposed to try and banish him from the Mindscape and spit insults at him until he left, cackling all the while. Roman was supposed to hate him.

 But Roman didn’t hate him, he just…he just said he didn’t like him.

 But that was okay, because Janus could just come up with a better plan with him this time. They could do it properly, and Roman would hate him again and it would be back to normal.

 But then Janus left. And now Roman has Janus, who keeps his eyes where the prince’s aren’t, when he can’t see what’s happening or he can’t bear to look, to help Roman figure out what to do when what seems to be happening isn’t anything that the prince is used to dealing with. And Janus would never willingly step away from a place that finally accepted him.

 Roman has them now. Roman has people that chose him. Roman’s family chose him. He chose them. They chose each other.

 Remus’s grip on his Morningstar slackens and the thing falls to the ground with a heavy clunk. He moves numbly through his room until he can fall to his knees on his bed.

 He just came from the living room. They were all there. Roman was talking with Logan, ranting about some new show they were both watching. Janus was in the kitchen with Patton, making something for dinner that everyone—well, almost everyone—could eat. Virgil was on the back of the couch, reaching out for Roman’s shoulder every once in a while.

Remus had waited behind the couch. For someone to sit down, for someone to see him and shriek, or even maybe—just maybe—for someone to ask where he was.

 But no.

 Patton had come over and gently ruffled Virgil’s hair, saying that dinner was ready. Logan and Roman had moved into the kitchen, demanding Janus’s attention and pulling him into their conversation. Virgil had murmured a quiet thank you and Roman had asked him for what?

 “Y’know,” Virgil had said, “for…this.”

 “Of course,” Roman had laughed, the soft rustle of fabric as he probably pulled the emo in for a hug—what did those feel like?— “I should be thanking you?”

 “What for, kiddo?”

 “I dunno, it just…feels like it’s been forever since we’ve all sat down for dinner together.”

 Remus’s chest had started to hurt.

 “The whole family.”

 The whole family.

 Remus’s eyes well up with stubborn tears and he angrily swipes them away, baring his teeth at the memory and focusing intently on the things on the bed. Each hand-stitched, each carefully kept clean.

 His family.

 He reaches out with a shaking hand and tucks the blue frog plushie into the crook of his arm, crawling into the middle of the bed and balancing the purple spider on his shoulder. His hands keep shaking as he wraps the long yellow snake securely around his neck, clutching the head under his chin and nuzzling it protectively. The dark blue cat he holds in his other hand, careful not to tear its tie as he scrunches in on himself.

 Wait.

 Wait.

 Where is it?

 No, no, no, no—

 Remus growls, placing all of his family gently on the floor before all but tearing at his sheets. Where is it, where is it, where is it—his heartbeat starts to rise as his search grows more frantic, where is it, where is it—

 The slightest little puff of red hair and he howls, lunging for it and sweeping it into his lap. He pauses to make sure the lion’s crown didn’t fall off and sighs when he sees it still in place. He sets the lion between his legs and leans over, adjusting everyone back into place and scrunching himself into a ball again. He rubs his nose against the lion’s fur and nuzzles into the soft fabric.

 He’d never be able to forgive himself if he lost them.

 Because Ohana means family.

 Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.

——————————————————

There’s a knock on his door.

 Why is someone knocking on his door?

 They knock again.

 Remus looks up, carefully butting the spider out of the way with his head and sitting up. The snake hangs off his shoulder and he lets it, only missing its warmth once the knock sounds again.

 The frog and the cat watch him warily as he climbs out of bed, the lion clutched in his hand.

 The door squeaks slightly as he opens it.

 “So, I’ve got popcorn, I found the weird gummy snakes, and they had this chocolate-covered bacon which we have to try—Remus?”

 Roman?

 Roman stands there, his arms full of snacks and blankets, his head tilted. He glances behind Remus—probably to check something or other—and then back at him.

 “Remus? Are you okay?”

 “Why are you here?” Roman doesn’t like him.

 “It’s movie night, Re, of course, I’m here.” Roman chuckles nervously before taking in his tear-stained face. “Hey, Re, what’s going on? Are you okay? Can I come in?”

 Why is Roman here? Roman has his family, what is he doing here? With Remus?

 “Remus—“ oh, right, Roman’s talking to him—why is Roman talking to him?—in a soft voice now— “Remus, hey, look at me.”

 Remus blinks. Oh. Roman looks concerned now, he’s reaching for him.

 “Hey,” he murmurs as he ruffles Remus’s hair, “what’s going on? Have you been crying?”

 Remus nods dumbly.

 “I’m sorry, Re, can I help?”

 Help? Why does Roman want to help?

 Oh, he’s waiting for an answer.

 “…sure.”

 “Thank you,” Roman says softly, “can I come in?”

 Remus steps aside wordlessly and Roman walks in, pausing when he sees the rest of Remus’s family on the bed.

 “Did you make them?”

 Something dark twists in Remus’s chest as he sees Roman reach for the spider.

 “Don’t.”

Roman backs off, stepping back as Remus snatches up his family and cradles them in his lap, glaring at Roman and curling up on the bed.

 “I won’t, Re, I’m sorry,” Roman says, still speaking softly, “can I sit?”

 “…floor.”

 Roman sits on the floor, setting aside the blankets and snacks, looking up at him. He still looks concerned. Why? Roman doesn’t like him.

 “Why weren’t you at dinner,” he asks gently, “I was worried.”

 Worried? About him? Remus snorts.

 “You had your whole family there,” he spits, “why would you worry?”

 “But you weren’t there,” Roman says like that makes any difference, “so I was worried.”

 Remus shakes his head. Roman doesn’t get it. Roman doesn’t worry about him, he worries about other things. But if Roman wants to know why he wasn’t at dinner, he’ll tell him.

 “I was with my family.”

 Roman’s brow furrows as he glances around again. “…your family?”

 Remus huddles protectively around his family. “Yes. My family.”

 Roman’s eyes widen as he takes in Remus’s posture and how he reacted when Roman asked about them earlier.

 “…are they your family, Remus?”

 “Yes.” He holds them tighter. “I chose them. They won’t leave me. They won’t forget me. That’s what family means.”

 Something crosses Roman’s face and he lets out a wounded noise. Wait. Are they fighting?

 “Wait, Remus,” he murmurs, rising up to his knees, “did you—did you think we forgot you?”

 “You did forget me.”

 “I’m sorry, Remus, I would’ve come to look for you, but I thought—“ Roman shakes his head— “no, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I should’ve come got you, Re, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

 Oh.

 “…you didn’t?”

 Roman shakes his head furiously. “No, Remus, I promise. I never meant to leave you.”

 “But everybody leaves me.”

 If possible, Roman’s eyes are now wider and he scrambles for the edge of the bed. “What do you mean, Remus, what do you mean everybody leaves you?”

 “You left. Virgil left. Janus left. Everybody left.” The lion’s mane brushes against his lips as he bows his head. “But not them. They won’t leave me.”

 “Oh, Remus—“

 Something big lunges at him and Remus whimpers, he doesn’t have his Morningstar, he doesn’t want to fight, he doesn’t—he doesn’t—

 What’s happening? He feels warm and he’s being squished and Roman is pressing himself against him and what—what—

 “What’re you doing?”

 “It’s a hug, Remus,” comes Roman’s voice, slightly muffled, from over his shoulder, “I’m hugging you.”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 “R-Ro?”

 “Yeah, Re, I’m here, I’m right here, I won’t forget you, I won’t leave you behind, you’re my brother, you’re my family, I choose you.” Roman’s grip tightens on him and Remus just about gasps. “I choose you and I want you and I like you.”

 Roman…Roman likes him?

 Roman chooses him?

 Roman won’t…leave?

 “No, Remus,” Roman promises as he cautiously asks, “I won’t leave. Not unless you want me to.”

 “No.”

 “Then I’m not going anywhere.”

 That’s it.

 Remus throws his arms around his twin and sobs, cries an entire ocean of tears into his brother’s shoulder because he’s here and he cares and he chose Remus. The darkness shudders as that small part of him surges forward, into Roman’s chest, finding a home in the prince’s heart and languishing in the warmth there.

 “I’m right here, Re,” Roman murmurs, stroking up and down his back, “right here, I’ve got you.”

 The snake drapes itself cautiously over Roman’s shoulder, the spider taking up watch on his knee. The cat and the frog stare at him, making sure he isn’t lying, that he won’t change his mind. The lion, sandwiched between them, feels the reassuring rumble from Roman’s chest and purrs.

 After a long, long time, Remus pulls back a little and scuffs a hand over his nose.

 “…did you say something about chocolate-covered bacon?”

 Roman’s smile lights up.

 “Let’s put on Lilo and Stitch and we’ll try it.”

 Ohana means family.

 Family means no one gets left behind.

 Or forgotten.

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[luminnara]

The Dismemberment Song PART 2 | BOP Victor Zsasz x Reader | 18+

Fandom: Birds of Prey

Words:

Summary: Zsasz takes a liking to one of the burlesque dancers at Roman’s club. It turns out the two have a little history together...and they both want to do something about their unresolved tension.

PART ONE | PART TWO 

Thanks so much for reading!! I really really hope you like this, because BOP Zsasz needs more love and attention, and I, for one, am determined to give it to him! 

Words: 3,666

Warnings: Alcohol, blood, violence, mutilation, that good good smutty smut (oral, penetration), kinda dom!Zsasz

Requests are open!!

You had never been in Roman Sionis’s penthouse. It was strictly off limits to anyone he didn’t personally invite, and you didn’t even think that his favorite little bird, Dinah Lance, had been up there. Now, though, here you were, stepping out of the elevator with Zsasz on your heels as you marveled at the converted loft. 

“Holy shit,” you breathed, looking around. 

Roman’s place was filled with weird art, all sorts of exotic masks sitting on pedestals or hanging on the walls. There was a long, dark dinner table with a decorative fruit platter sitting in the center, and an open floor plan allowed to see the spacious living room surrounded by huge walls of windows that overlooked the East End. It was the perfect blend of luxurious and industrial for someone like Roman, and you sighed as you imagined yourself living somewhere so nice.

“‘Sthat all about?” Zsasz asked in that rough, low, almost drawling voice.

“Just admiring the view,” you said as you left him to go stand before the windows.

“Yeah,” Zsasz agreed. “It’s nice.”

But his eyes were on you, not the Gotham skyline.

“Do you stay here with him?” You asked, turning to look at Roman’s henchman with a bright, exuberant smile on your face, as if you hadn’t just murdered a man onstage in the club.

“I do.” Zsasz approached you, hands in his pockets as he moved in that watchful, predatory way you always saw him slinking around with. “I’ve gotta protect the boss. He needs me.”

“You must do a pretty good job of it.” You mused. Now that you were confident that Roman wasn’t going to have Zsasz peel your face off, you were allowing yourself to relax again.

“It’s my job.” He said simply, coming to stand behind you. He was so close that you could smell his cologne, his breath hot on your neck as he leaned in.

You froze.

His chest was brushing your back and you were almost certain he could hear the way your heart was hammering away in your chest. You held perfectly still, not daring to move a muscle as Zsasz brought a hand up to brush your bloodstained curls away from your shoulder.

His fingers were rough, calloused, and warm, just like the rest of him, his hands big and strong enough that you were confident he could kill you unarmed in the blink of an eye. The weird, sadistic side of you would welcome it; though you had never admitted it to anybody before, you were pretty sure that Victor Zsasz was the only man you would ever allow to kill you.

You could remember the first time you met him, years ago, when he and Roman came to your old gig to convince you to start up at the Black Mask. He had less scars back then, but still the same bleached hair and that fucking handsome stubble on his jaw. You had been entranced as you watched him follow your eventual employer around, the club owner giving them their own corner booth and all the bottle service that Roman Sionis could possibly want.

You could remember how your legs had turned to jelly when the shift manager sent you over to them, but you must have managed to hide it well, because you spent the rest of the night drinking and partying with Roman fucking Sionis. Then, obviously, one thing led to another, and you had gone to work for him.

The part you had never told anyone about, though, the part you never spoke of, was the part where Zsasz had taken you into a vip room.

You didn’t remember all the details about everything that night, but you could still recall every moment you spent on his lap. Every appreciative squeeze he gave your ass and thighs, every low moan he let out as you rocked your hips with his. You still dreamt about it once in a while, even though you were sure that it had all been something about Roman making his lackey inspect the goods before hiring you.

But still...you had loved it.

He always wore his shirts unbuttoned a fair ways down to show off the scars on his upper chest, but that night, you had gotten to see more. You could remember how you had run your fingers over them, and the way that Zsasz had watched you almost reverently. You didn’t know exactly why he etched them into himself, if it was to intimidate everyone or for some personal reason, but you didn’t find them odd or ugly. You loved the raised scar tissue and the way it felt, so smooth to the touch despite looking so gnarled, and it was one of the many reasons you had always harbored a secret liking for Victor Zsasz.

Now, as he stood so close behind you, you felt that same jelly in your legs.

“You should get cleaned up, kitten.” He said in that low voice. “The boss wouldn’t want you making a mess.”

You tilted your head slightly, watching him out of the corner of your eye. “Why don’t you show me to the shower then, Zsasz?”

It came out more sultry than you had intended, but when he responded by pressing his hips into your ass, you were glad. He caught the way your breath hitched in your throat, his eyes trained on yours as he did nothing but stare at you for a few agonizingly long moments.

“Right this way, Princess.” He finally broke away.

You brushed off your mild disappointment, mentally chastising yourself for hoping that would have gone further, and followed him down a hallway, passing a few closed doors before reaching one that stood open. When Victor stepped in and flipped the light switch, you stood and gawked at what awaited you.

Of course Roman Sionis would have the nicest guest bathroom in Gotham.

It was huge, a claw foot tub sitting against the wall across from the sink while a shower was situation at the far end. Everything was off-white and antique gold, simple and elegant and clearly very expensive.

“Holy shit,” you said under your breath, for the second time that night. “Roman doesn’t skimp out, does he?”

“The boss has expensive taste.” Zsasz said, following you in. “Get in the shower.”

You turned and looked at him. “Little privacy might be nice.”

He only stared back.

“Zsasz...?” You gave a little nod towards the door.

“Oh,” he chuckled, laughing to himself as if something had slipped his mind. “Course. Privacy.”

He turned and shut the door, still in the room with you.

You sighed.

“That’s not what I meant and you know it.”

“Can’t leave you alone in here unattended.” He said, stepping towards you. “You might slip and fall.”

His voice was slightly menacing, in a way that had you almost wondering if he wasn’t going to find a way to kill you and stage your death as an accident. But you were confident in yourself. If he made any funny moves, you could get him before he got you.

Maybe.

“Fine.” You jutted your chin out defiantly. “Then why don’t you make yourself useful and go warm up the water for me while I get out of this robe?”

You expected him to roll his eyes and sneer, but he didn’t. He didn’t even refuse. He just walked right over, slid the glass shower door to the side, and turned the water on. Just like that. Obediently, as if he actually wanted to. You were so dumbfounded by it that by the time he glanced back towards you, you were still standing there, completely dressed.

He looked a bit disappointed.

“Well?” He asked.

“What? Oh.” You untied your fancy little robe and let it fall onto the tiles, still looking straight at him.

You could see his eyes trailing down your body, those dark circles under them giving him a hungry, starved look. When you hooked your thumbs in the sides of your thong and pulled it down, you saw his chest rising and falling as his breaths quickened slightly.

You smirked. Yeah, like Roman had said, Zsasz was harmless. If he had wanted to kill you, he would have by now. He’d already had a dozen chances on the way up to the penthouse.

As you walked toward the shower, he stepped to the side, seeming for a moment as if he was content to let you go in and enjoy the hot water in peace. Of course he wasn’t, though;

This was Victor Zsasz.

“Wait.” He caught your wrist just before you could step in and you were vaguely aware of the blade he flicked open with his other hand. “You need a mark.”

“What?” You stepped back, allowing him to pull you up to him.

“A mark.” He tapped one of the scars on the side of his face with the knife. “For your kill. Where do you want it?”

You weren’t sure what to say. You had never kept track of the lives you took, but...it really wasn’t that bad an idea. Plus, it seemed like Zsasz wasn’t giving you the option to refuse.

Double plus, it was kind of sexy to imagine him carving you up.

“Here.” you finally said, pointing to the center of your chest. 

Zsasz grinned, showing off those gold teeth that you loved so much. He kept his grip on your wrist but lowered your arm to your side, his knife pressing against the thin skin above your sternum. His touch was feather light, no doubt thanks to years and years of butchering people, both for Roman and for his own pleasure. He new exactly how hard to press in which areas, an expert in the art of slicing through flesh. The steel of his blade was cool and freshly sharpened, gliding along and drawing an angry, but beautiful, red line as blood oozed up and began running down your torso.

 As he dragged the knife down, you let out a hiss of discomfort, pitching forward slightly in pain. He leaned in, his forehead pressing against yours as his blade cut deeper, deeper, nearly down to the bone, and by the time he was finished, you had a four inch long gash ending at the top of your cleavage that was sure to scar marvelously. 

You looked down at it in wonder. Zsasz had done it so...beautifully. He made it so important, this new tally mark. And as you gazed at it, you realized you loved it because he made it. Victor Zsasz, one of Gotham City’s most fucked up criminals, had given you a scar. For somebody just as fucked up as him...well, it practically brought tears to your eyes.

Victor didn’t give you a chance to get weepy. He dropped the bloody knife into the spotless white sink, the blade clattering loudly above the sound of the shower. Zsasz moved his thumb to your new cut, pressing it against the wound and then bringing it up to his mouth to lick your blood off. 

“Zsasz,” you whispered. 

“Victor.” his voice rumbled as he let go of your wrist. “Call me Victor.”

Then his hands were on you, one squeezing your tit while the other grabbed your ass. You gasped in surprise, but his mouth silenced you almost immediately. The kiss was rough, his lips nicked with a few scars, but he was good and you immediately melted against him. He was devouring you, as if he been starved of any attention for years, and maybe he had been. He was hungry for you, insistent, determined, practically begging for more as a low moan rose in his throat. 

Your knees were weak, and you had to break the kiss to catch your breath before you collapsed. You wanted more, though, needed to feel more of him, your hands ripping open his nice designer button down. He wasn’t even mad that you had just sent half the buttons flying around the bathroom, because your fingers were already trailing over the scars that covered his chest, then dipping down to run across his hips. 

His skin was smooth, wherever it was free of tally marks, and incredibly hot to the touch. While you explored, your lips latched onto his neck, kissing and biting and sucking in a way that he hadn’t anticipated. Zsasz was used to being the demanding one, but he wasn’t about to complain that you were so determined to leave some marks of your own. 

Your hands ghosted up over his pecs and then down his abs, and you hummed in appreciation as you felt the neatly groomed hair on his chest. When your hands dipped lower and lower and finally found his belt, he suddenly growled and grabbed your wrists, and your head snapped up to look at him. 

“Shower. Now.” he ordered, eyes dark. 

You obeyed, slipping away from him and stepping into the shower. You could hear him undressing, and as you sighed happily at the feeling of the warm water on your skin, he came to join you.

The shower was more than big enough for the two of you, but he didn’t want to give you any space. He backed you up against the wall, his lips immediately crashing down on yours as he pushed himself up against you. You could feel his hard on pressing into your thigh and whimpered in anticipation, a shiver going straight down to your pussy.

Fuck.

You wanted him so fucking much.

“V-Victor,” you whispered as he leaned back from the kiss. You couldn’t help rubbing your thighs together, trying to alleviate the ache that was quickly building up.

“I wanna hear you purr for me, kitten.” He rasped, his big, warm hand drifting down to your cunt. He found your clit immediately, teasing it, reveling in every gasp and cry you let out for him.

He wanted nothing more than to get down on his knees and worship you with his mouth, but he could be patient.

“You know, when I saw you there, on the stage...” he said as he drew lazy circles around your clit, “...I couldn’t look away...”

“R-really?” You gasped, arching your back as you sucked in a breath.

“Mhm.” He pressed a finger into you. “So fuckin’ beautiful, the way you carved him up...”

You squealed at his touch, the sound like music to his ears. He liked it even more than the sound of his victims screaming...though he was confident you’d be doing plenty of that, too.

“Never knew such a pretty little birdie like you could do somethin’ like that...” he said, slowly pulling his finger out and then pushing it back in again. “All that blood...”

“I-I’ve killed plenty of times,” you gasped, nails digging into his arms as you clung to him. 

“I could tell...you made it look like art...” he suddenly added a second finger, shoving them both in until the rest of his knuckles were pressing against your labia and he had nowhere else to go. 

You let out a loud whine, wanting more, needing more. Before you could demand anything of him, though, he was kneeling in front of you, practically reading your mind as he leaned in to replace his fingers with his mouth. 

You hadn’t expected him to be so skilled, but then again, you hadn’t really expected any of this to be happening tonight. 

He was eating you out as if you were his last meal, as if he hadn’t had food in weeks, as if he was starving. Zsasz was desperate, lapping up all the wetness from your pussy as if it was the only thing keeping him alive, his moans vibrating against your skin. His hair was too short to tangle your fingers in, but you still tried, nails scratching his scalp in a tantalizing way while he gripped your thighs hard enough to leave little red marks behind. 

“F-fuck,” you moaned, leaning your head back against the wall and tensing as he sucked on your clit. Little jolts were running through you, sparks that almost felt electric. Your limbs were tingling as your orgasm built, and as it finally spilled over, you found yourself whining and gasping and chanting his name over and over, holding onto him tightly as he licked at you greedily. 

Zsasz loved it. He wanted you to need him, and he loved the sounds he could pull from you. He could keep going all night, burying his face between your thighs and worshipping you, but now, he wanted more. 

“Turn around.” he said as he stood, licking his lips. 

You nodded, still in a daze as you turned and braced yourself against the wall. He grabbed your hip in one hand and his cock in the other, rubbing the head against your swollen, wet pussy. Next time, he would have you suck him off. Maybe he would ask you to wake him up with a blowjob in the morning.  But now, tonight, he was hungry to feel you around him, and as he slowly slid into you, he savored every moment of it. 

“Fuck,” he groaned, tossing his head back as he buried himself in your heat. “You’re fuckin perfect, kitten...”

You moaned back, the feeling of his thick cock stretching your pussy around it causing you to momentarily forget your words. As he drew out and then snapped his hips forward, you grunted, biting down on your lip as you closed your eyes. He felt incredible, rubbing past all the right spots inside of you as he found a rhythm he liked and began fucking you mercilessly. His hands were grabbing you wherever they could, be it your hips or tits or hair, and as he fell further and further into his desire for you, you could feel his chest brushing over your back as he leaned down. 

“You’re such a good girl,” he growled, nipping at your ear. “Who do you belong to?”

“Y-you,” you choked out, trying to turn and look at him. “I-I belong to you, Victor...”

“Good girl.” he snarled, squeezing the side of your ass cheek as hard as he could. 

The moan you let out was absolutely filthy, and as your pussy squeezed around him, you felt yourself beginning to come undone once more. He pounded into you and your moans and cries grew louder and louder, a symphony of pleasure as you climaxed, and Zsasz followed soon after, moaning your name in your ear as he filled you up. Your pussy milked him, squeezing every last drop out of his cock, and as he caught his breath, you could feel him pressing lazy kisses against the back of your neck. 

“Fuck,” he panted. 

You straightened up and he wrapped his arms around you, hugging you against his chest as he refused to let you go. It was quiet for a moment as you both came down from your highs, the sound of the shower the only thing breaking the silence. Finally, he allowed you to turn around, and as you faced him, you saw a surprisingly serene expression on his face. 

“Stay with me.” he said. It was less of a request and more of a demand.

“What about Roman?” you asked, legs still quivering. 

“The boss’ll understand.”

And that was that.

Zsasz washed the blood off of your skin, insisting that you let him do all the work, and afterwards, he gave you a plush bathrobe to wear. You spent the night in Victor’s bed, and you did wake him up with a surprise blowjob, even without him asking you to. After a round of morning sex, you walked out into the penthouse in your bathrobe to see Roman Sionis already sitting at the table, and for a moment, you froze. You had almost forgotten where you were, and there was your boss, Gotham’s newest and nastiest godfather, spreading some cream cheese on a gourmet bagel.

“Ah,” he said, glancing up as he heard you. “You’re still here.”

“I...uh...” 

“Mornin’, boss.” Victor said, walking out behind you. He was fully dressed, looking and acting as if he hadn’t taken home a girl the night before. 

“The car is waiting for you.” Roman grunted, far more interested in his breakfast than he was in the conversation. “Be quick about it.”

Zsasz bowed his head and turned to you, holding his hand out expectantly. When you only stared at him, he almost rolled his eyes. “Your house keys, princess.”

“My...what?” you asked. “For what?”

“So I can get your things.”

“What things?”

“You’re moving in.” Roman said dismissively, as if it were obvious. 

“...What?”

“You’ve been promoted. Or did you forget?” he asked, giving you a look that suggested he was already tired of your questions. “You’ll be staying here, until you either die, or I fire you, or both. Now, be a dear and give Mr. Zsasz your keys, so that he can get your necessities. I’ll have some new clothes ordered for you this afternoon.”

You stared at him for a moment and then looked at Victor. “They’re in my bag down in the dressing room. But--”

Before you had a chance to finish and tell him that this really wasn’t necessary, he was already gone, calling the elevator so that he could obediently go down to the club and rummage through your purse. You had no doubt that he could get into your locker on his own, and as much as you really didn’t want or need him to go to the effort, you weren’t entirely mad about it. Living with Victor--and Roman--didn’t seem like that bad a deal, and if it meant that you’d get to have more fun with Zsasz, you were all in. 

“Well, glad that’s settled.” Roman said, sitting back and wiping the edge of his mouth with a fancy little cloth napkin. “Welcome to the Sionis penthouse, Princess.”

[brandstifter-sys]

Carry On

Five Times Remus Swept Virgil Off His Feet (and One Time Virgil Returned the Favor)

That's a FOB title if I ever saw one

Word Count: 2927                          (Ao3)

Characters: all sides

Pairing: Dukexiety

Rating: T

Warnings: self-doubt, sex mention, swearing, mild gore mention, undertale references, dc comics references, charlie the unicorn references

inspired by @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes‘ post linked here

One…

Sans. Virgil truly hated this battle, but he was set on finishing this run to get to the true ending the next time around. Too bad he was getting his ass handed to him by a punny pile of bones!

He growled to himself as his fingers frantically danced over the keys. He didn't care if anyone came into the common area while he was there, he couldn't afford the stress from his room and everyone knew to stay away from him or else.

Remus was not one of those sides who did what he was supposed to do all the time. So when he popped up in the common area, he didn't think twice about lounging on the couch next to his favorite emo.

"Oh come on!" Virgil snapped at his computer as he lost again. He clawed at his hair and let out a long, agonized groan before flopping back on the couch. His hands were shaking and his heart was racing. He was one more loss away from committing murder.

"Uh oh!" Remus giggled and got up. He closed the laptop and grinned at Virgil as the emo tried to murder him with his eyes.

"What do you want?"

"Me? Well I have to make a delivery to the Grand Duke of the Imagination! And you have what I need!" Remus hummed and wiggled his shoulders. Virgil scowled and crossed his arms.

"What are you talking about?" he huffed, ignoring the mischievous twinkle in Remus' eyes. That was a mistake!

Remus swooped down and scooped him up bridal style, laughing at Virgil flailing in his arms and squawking like a gull. He would never drop him out of nowhere! Silly emo could trust him!

"I'm taking you to the Grand Duke so he can spoil you and cheer you up! By any means necessary!" Remus purred and winked, bringing a delightful blush to Virgil's face.

"What the hell?"

"You are my damsel in distress and I don't even have to slay a monster to make sure you're okay—unless you want me to, there's definitely a monster I want to see, in your—"

"No. I am so done with monsters today. Don't even make that joke. Just do what you were planning," Virgil huffed and averted his gaze, no longer squirming to get away. Remus could live with that as long as he could keep holding this tall drink of water!

Two…

Remus was just polishing his morning star when he decided it was a good time to harass his brother and talk about the only thing they seemed to agree on: butts!

He appeared in the common area to the sound of a Disney movie, it would have been perfect, but Roman was not alone on the couch. Oh no, he could clearly distinguish a mop of purple hair next to the prince’s own preened locks. Neither one seemed to notice the duke looming behind them, which was good. Surprising Roman was way too much fun!

“How can you claim this isn’t romantic and charming?!” Roman grumbled as Prince Philip and Briar Rose began to dance and sing in the forest. Virgil snorted and shook his head.

“There’s nothing more romantic than a total stranger in his 20s swooping in and interrupting a 16 year old girl’s furry fantasy without an introduction or asking,” Virgil droned sarcastically. He snickered at the offended gasp that came out of the prince’s mouth and shifted in his seat.

“You wanna pause this and grab some popcorn? My leg fell asleep.”

Before Roman could move Remus struck.

“Hello there! The angel from my nightmares, the shadow in the background of the morgue!” he sang and scooped Virgil into his arms, twirling around with the brightest grin imaginable. Virgil squeaked and clung to him, more out of surprise than fear. He should have seen it coming.

“I think my point stands,” Roman teased, smirking at the pair like a cheshire cat. Virgil shot him a death glare, daring him to say anything more while Remus giggled impishly between verses.

“Perhaps you should take care of that leg and we can continue later. I would hate to rob you of a moment like this!” the prince continued, making Virgil flush and plot his end. Remus laughed and brushed Roman off.

“Looks like I’m the dashing heroic prince today! Better luck next time Hoe-man!” he sang and sunk out for some much needed cuddles. Roman rolled his eyes, ignoring the sleight in favor of appreciating how cute those two could be. Plus he could rewatch his movie without critique!

Three…

Virgil was exhausted. After a long study session for the next video, making sure that Logan knew his lines and keeping Janus from making them take a break, all he wanted to do was fall into a coma. But he was still in the common area and he would have company if he didn't move, but that meant moving. He drooped, letting his limbs hang off the couch, wishing he had the energy.

That was a mistake, and he knew that he would regret it. Especially when something slimy glided up the back of his hand.

"Gross," he grumbled, not bothering to look at the culprit. Remus giggled and licked his hand again before kissing it. He got off the floor and on one knee, smiling at his emo.

"You know you love me!" he teased and brought Virgil's hand to his lips again, "You're like my personal damsel in distress and I just love saving you and making you feel like a princess!"

"I'm not a damsel, just tired. Can I take a nap in peace?"

"Not out here, Scare Bear! You know it gets crazy with the others around!" Remus giggled and scooped him up without any struggle.

"If you take me to your dungeon to do horrible things to me in my sleep, make sure I have both kidneys intact."

"No promises, Charlie!" Remus teased and resituated Virgil so he could rest his head on his shoulder, "But I can promise you a comfy bed and the best snuggle buddy ever!"

"You're bringing Winary? Hellhounds don't make for great cuddles. They stink of brimstone," Virgil mumbled against his neck.

"Nope! You get to cuddle with a stinky dukey!" Remus countered and walked towards his room with his precious cargo.

"I'd rather cuddle with you," Virge mumbled and curled into Remus' chest.

"But I am a stinky dukey!" he said, fighting back the urge to squeal. Virgil huffed and wrapped his arms around Remus.

"I like your scent. It's comforting, like a puppy that likes mud."

"You Sir are exhausted!" Remus declared, "And you are taking a long nap with me so you can get that snark back!"

"You better be there when I wake up," Virge answered, barely able to keep his eyes open. Remus was happy and he was sure to be there the whole time.

Four...

"Virgil, you can't just call Remus every time something mildly inconvenient happens. He's not your footman," Janus huffed as Virgil curled into himself. He was going to summon Remus for a good reason. It wasn't his fault that the duke showed up every time he stubbed his toe!

"I know that, Snake-face," he huffed, "I don't actually summon him when they happen. He just knows."

"And you do nothing to stop him. It's not good for you to be dependent on him for everything. There's a fine line between self-care and sinking into bad habits."

"I'm not sinking into bad habits, Janus. I'm fine with being toted around if it makes him feel like he's being heroic instead of a villain."

Janus sighed and shook his head. Virgil had a point, Remus needed to feel wanted and needed. And who better to provide that for him than Virgil? Remus adored him!

"And I want him to show up right now," Virgil mumbled and hugged his knees. His skin was crawling and he was freezing. Was it too selfish for him to want to have Remus hold him and keep him close? Was he taking advantage of Remus wanting to be someone's hero? Was he even good enough to get that kind of attention from the duke?

"Remus!" Janus called out, rather than sit by and watch Virgil spiral. He sank out at the same time Remus appeared.

Remus got one look at Virgil and immediately pulled him into his arms. Virgil melted into him and let out a contented sigh.

"Scare Bear!" Remus cheered and spun on his heels, "My spider sense was tingling! What's wrong, Bitter Sweetie?"

"I just need some creature contact," Virgil grumbled, "and you're the most comfortable creature I know."

"So no slaying your demons or disemboweling anyone?" Remus giggled and dropped Virgil on the couch before flopping on him. Virgil shifted and wrapped his arms around Remus' waist.

"Nah, just don't leave. I need a Cuddlefish."

"And you got me for as long you want!" Remus giggled and nestled his head under Virgil's chin.

"You're gonna be here for a while," Virge hummed and soaked in the warmth Remus provided.

"I don't mind," Remus said, "I like it here!" And that was an understatement.

Five…

Remus was just going to the kitchen for a snack—he had some prairie oysters with his name on them! But he paused in the middle of the hallway when he saw Virgil on a step ladder, painting a wrought iron fence mural over his door. He was so focused, so pretty, Remus had to stare.

"You know, creeping on someone who's on a ladder is considered a bad idea."

"Do I look like the guy who has good ideas?"

"No, I should know better, you like me."

"No talking bad about yourself!" Remus growled and loomed closer.

"Oh, that's not what I meant. I mean you like the one guy who can kick your ass and you keep calling him a damsel. Last I checked, I saved you from the Dragon Witch twice this week alone."

"It was hot!" Remus agreed as Virge bent over to get more paint on his brush, carefully holding onto the wall, "But that doesn't mean you can't be a damsel too! You're like Dick Grayson—perfectly capable of kicking ass, but also very much in need of some saving every so often! Plus I think you'd make those shorts look good! Almost as good as I'd look getting into them!" Virgil jolted away from Remus as he was getting up again and lost his balance.

It felt like forever, falling backwards with nothing to grab onto. He was sure the impact would be annoying, but not terrible. If he were any higher up his instincts could have easily taken over and he wouldn't land on his back. But that impact never came. Instead he landed in a pair of strong arms.

"I knew you'd fall for me and my feral mojo!" Remus giggled down at him. Virgil stared at him for a second before swiping his paintbrush over Remus' nose.

"Sure, Puppy, you tell yourself that," Virgil said with a smirk, "It's not at all because you had the audacity to call me Dick Grayson when I'm more of a Jason Todd."

"You're more of a hottie who needs to snuggle with me after that kind of fall!"

"You really need to consider just asking like a normal person," Virgil jeered and kissed his cheek.

"Why would you ever consider that? Boring! You need some excitement in your life and that's where I come in!"

"I thought you came in—"

"Dirty jokes are my job!"

"I thought you came in like Peter Parker on a wrecking ball. Chaotically trying to save me from every mild inconvenience," Virge reiterated and wrapped his arms around Remus' shoulders before kissing his cheek again. Remus was a happy boy.

And then...

It was just perfect! Remus was so excited to finally have a gift for Patton that he would like! He appeared in the common area in the kitchen, just out of sight of the duo watching Looney Toons. Patton and Virgil were in for a treat!

He set Fluffy on the floor and motioned towards the couch. The little thing sprinted off in a pale pink blur and Remus waited for the cooing and squealing from Patton.

His heart shattered when all he heard were horrified screams coming from the father figure. He sank out to his room and fought the urge to cry. Fluffy would be able to get back to the Imagination without him.

Virgil paused the show and watched Patton scoop up the hairless cat with tears in his eyes.

"Look Virgil!" he cheered and held up the cat like she was Simba, "A kitty I can pet!" Virgil blinked twice, confused as to how a cat found her way into the commons. That's when he spotted the green collar around her neck and the silver tag hanging from it.

"Can I keep her Virge?" Patton pleaded as Virgil checked the tag. He had a hunch that Fluffy was meant to be with Patton.

"You're asking me?" he jeered and got up, "Let's find the guy who made her and ask him. I'm pretty sure Remus set her loose to find you."

"Remus? He made this little angel?" Patton gasped and cuddled her to his chest. She purred and kneaded his hoodie, getting him to squeal again.

"I'll go get him, and let you two get to know each other," Virgil said with a half-smile. Patton beamed and him and sat on the couch, cuddling his new best friend. Virgil sank out before the cuteness became sickening.

But any mushy feelings faded when he appeared in Remus' room. Amid the weapon racks and canopic jars, Remus was curled up on his bed, hiding his head between his knees.

"Octopuppy?" Virgil asked softly and sat next to Remus. The duke looked up at him with his makeup running down his cheeks.

"Scare Bear?"

"What's wrong?" he asked and brushed a stray piece of hair from Remus' face. Remus shook his head and let out a ragged sigh.

"I can't make anything good."

"Your dog is not gonna be happy to hear that."

"She's a hellhound with three heads. She's not good or normal. But she's a good girl," Remus grumbled and wiped his eyes. He was not about to cry again. Virgil coaxed Remus into his lap and pressed a kiss to his forehead.

"What makes you think you can't make anything good?"

"I made a cat for Daddykins and I really tried to make her perfect for him. But he screamed at the sight of her. You know, you were there," he pouted and hid his face in Virgil's hoodie. Virgil pouted and held him closer.

"Can I show you something?" he whispered, "Something that can prove you can make something good."

Remus nodded and clung to Virgil as he stood. The emo cradled him to his chest and smiled down at him.

"Looks like you're my damsel this time," he teased and sank out, adoring the blush that crossed Remus' face.

They appeared in the common area kitchen to the sounds of giggles and cooing. Remus looked to Virgil for answers only to get a smirk in return.

"Hey Pat!" Virgil called out and carried Remus into the next room. Patton was curled up in his hoodie, using the string to play with Fluffy. Remus had never seen him so genuinely happy.

"Virge!" he cheered, only to coo at the sight of the gruesome twosome.

"I found Remus, so go ahead and ask."

"Remus, can I keep Fluffy? Please? I'll take good care of her! I promise!"

"I made her for you, so yeah, of course you can," Remus answered, completely stunned. Virgil knew that tone all too well. He had only a matter of seconds before a tsunami of feelings crashed over the duke. He would need cuddles.

"Thank you so much Remus!" Patton squealed and hugged Fluffy, "I'm gonna show her my room!" He sank out, leaving the pair to claim the couch.

"You good, Pup?" Virgil asked and hugged the duke, leaning into the cushions. Remus nodded and nuzzled into his chest.

"Good, because right now you're stuck cuddling with me until my legs fall asleep," Virgil mused and kissed his head. Remus shuddered and his breathing hitched.

"I did good," he whimpered, "I finally did a good and made a good thing."

"Finally? Remus, you make a good thing every day—you make me feel loved. You're my knight in slimy armor."

"That's just cuz I love you."

"I love you too, and I think it's only fair that I get to be your dark knight for a while. Because it's okay to need a little help, even if you don't think you deserve it."

"Who taught you that psychiatry crap?" Remus pouted and hid his face in Virgil's hoodie so no one would see him crying.

"You might know him, he's a wily little imp with a lot of passion, a flair for the dramatic, and macabre tastes. He's a handsome sweetheart and don't even get me started on his butt."

"He sounds like a pain in the neck!" Remus giggled.

"Only if he bites," Virgil snickered, "and he's my hero. So don't you dare try to talk shit about the Grand Duke of the Imagination."

Remus giggled and clung to him. He couldn't ask for a better boyfriend and he was pretty sure he didn't want to either.

[inagetawaycarxo]

Way Down We Go; II | Roman Reigns {Werewolf AU}

❛❛ I would like to request a part 2 for the: Way Down We Go | Werewolf!Roman Reigns- story.; Roman is trying to get Y/N back, explaining her everything about his world and how sorry he is for not telling her the truth from the  beginning.❜❜-Rightherewaiting88

❛❛Oooooh that needs a part 2. It is really cool. (way down we go)❜❜-Joy_of_life88

❛❛ Please tell me there’s gonna be a part 2 and can I be added to your tag list????❜❜- @scuzmunkie​ 

❛❛ This needs a part 2.❜❜- @mindofasagittaruis​

❛❛ This was wonderful 😭😭😭😭 part 2 please.❜❜- @flawlessglamazon​

Pairings: Werewolf!Roman Reigns x Human!Reader

Featuring: Roman Reigns, Y/n (Reader), Seth Rollins, Unnamed Friend of Y/n’s,

Summary: y/n is finding it difficult to process the news of Roman being a werewolf, can she move past it and be with him again.

WARNINGS: angst, jealousy, stalking, some more angst, eventually fluff, werewolf themes, supernatural themes, meh, errors.

Word Count: 2105

A/N: GOT A ROMAN REIGNS OR WWE REQUEST? SEND IT IN!

A thick layer of sweat covered your entire body. Whimpers escaping your mouth. Body shaking as a nightmare ripped through your subconscious. Gripping the bed sheets tightly.

Roman’s jaw slightly clenched. Eyes casting down at the ground. He knew what nightmare it was. You always ended up waking up with a gasp, eyes wide open in fear, hands grasping your neck, then pulling them away to check for any signs of blood. It broke his heart to see you have nightmares all because you found out his deep dark secret. He would never tear your throat apart.

He tried his best to talk to you, but you avoided him like the plague. Whenever you were near him your heart beating faster, slightly trembling, it broke his heart. He wanted things to go back to normal between the two of you. You even requested to have different shifts; he did the morning-lunch shifts while you did the afternoon shifts.

All he could do now was watch you from a distance, or without your knowledge, he knew it was wrong and predatory, but he had to know if you were alright. That you weren’t in any danger.

Roman kept watching you for a little longer as you steady your breathing, heart aching as you curled up into a ball. He felt tears prick his eyes. His heart shattering into a million pieces, he wanted to comfort you, but he couldn’t.

Roman watched you for a little while, eyes full of sadness. His heart feeling heavy. He let out a heavy sigh, before turning around, and walking to his house. His heart aching even more.

Roman’s moves halted as he sensed a presence. His jaw tightened as he turned his head in the direction of the unwanted presence. Roman glared at Seth in annoyance.

Seth moved his feet off the rails, getting up. Smirking at Roman, as he walked over to him.

“Let me guess, you visited y/n’s place again. You need to stop torturing yourself with a woman who doesn’t even respect what you are.” Seth spoke. Making Roman let out a low growl. Anger boiling up inside him.

“Not now Seth.” Roman growled out.

“You deserve so much better, someone who accepts you and doesn’t run away when they find out you’re a werewolf.” Seth argued his point, making Roman seethe with anger.

“Seth, let it go it's complicated.” Roman growled. Glaring at Seth.

“It really isn’t, I found you a woman, she is a werewolf too, I think both of you are perfect for each other.” Seth spoke. Making Roman clench his jaw even tighter.

“I’m not interested.” Roman hissed out. Taking a step to his front door, while giving Seth a deadly glare.

“Y/n is never going to accept you, you are just being delusional, she broke up with you because she found out you’re a werewolf, she didn’t accept you she rejected you, Roman don’t torture yourself by chasing after her when she is avoiding you.” Seth yelled.

“Shut up.” Roman yelled. Eyes flashing with anger. His hands grabbed Seth’s shoulders. Claws digging into Seth’s skin, making Seth grimace. Roman pushed Seth back with full force. Making Seth crash into the railing. The rail broke under Seth’s weight, making Seth crash onto the ground.

Seth looked up at Roman in anger. Jaw clenching.

“You deserve better Roman.” Seth growled out. While Roman glared at Seth. He let out a low growl, before turning around and walking to his front door, opening the door and going inside his house. Leaving Seth on the ground with broken wood surrounding him.

“You are going on that date with that women I found you by the way.” Seth yelled…

__________________________________________

 Your heart leapt up into your throat as you walked into the diner. Palms getting clammy. Breathing getting heavier. Throat getting tighter. You swallowed hard as your eyes landed on Roman. You quickly adverted your eyes elsewhere. Rushing over to the counter. Opening the door and going behind the counter and into the kitchen, cursing to yourself. As you grabbed an apron. Tying it around your waist.

“I thought Roman was on morning shifts today, not afternoon shifts.” You whined. Going to your friend who has helping the chef cook. You pouted at her. Making her give a half-smile.

“Sorry about that, honeybun, it was pretty busy, and he stayed a bit longer, I should go tell him his shift is over. But first take this out, table one.” She spoke, handing you a plate full of chips and a burger.

“But...” You tried to protest only for her to give you a pointed look.

“Chin up buttercup.” She spoke. Giving you a reassuring smile before bringing her attention back to cooking.

You turned around, feeling a sense of dread rush course through your body. You gulped. Then took a deep breath before exiting the kitchen, then the counter, going over to table one. You plastered an enthusiastic smile.

“Here you go, ma’am and sir. Enjoy, if you need anything else don’t be afraid to ask.” You spoke. You felt an intense gaze staring at the back of your head. You knew it was Roman. You gave them one last final smile before turning on the ball of your foot, and walking to the counter, you grabbed a tray, as well as a cloth and disinfectant spray going over to the unoccupied tables, putting the utilities on the tray, then spraying the tables. You felt a presence behind you making you gulp. Your heart racing faster. throat tightening.

“Y/n, can we talk.” Roman spoke from behind you. Hot breath nipping at your neck. Making the hairs on your arms and the back of your neck stick up.

“I can’t Roman, I’m working.” You stuttered out, moving onto the next table. Making Roman let out a sad sigh. Putting his head down in defeat. His heart aching.

“That was torture. You ready for your date.” Seth spoke. Placing a hand on Romans shoulder. Giving it a reassuring squeeze.

Roman rolled his eyes at Seth’s words. Heart quickening faster as Seth said that out loud hoping you didn’t overhear. Though he was unlucky, you tilted your head slightly to listen in on the conversation all the while wiping the table.

“I never agreed to go on a date with her.” Roman grumbled.

“Come on man, you got to. Look here is a picture of her.” Seth whined. Taking his phone out. Unlocking his phone, scrolling through the messages he had with this woman, till he found the picture of her. Then held it up for Roman to see.

Roman wasn’t going to lie she was gorgeous, but his heart still yearned for you. Roman’s eyebrows furrowed as he smelt the scent of jealousy wafted through the diner.

“I can’t I am working.” Roman Replied. Making Seth let out an annoyed sigh. Seth’s frown turned into a smile as he saw one of the other co-workers come out of the kitchen. Two plates in each of her hands.

“Hey, babe, can my buddy knock off already to go on a date.” Seth pleaded. The co-worker happened to be your friend. She rolled her eyes at the pet name he used.

“Sure, see you tomorrow Roman, same time, thank you for staying past your shift.” She spoke, smiling at Roman, before walking off to another table.

Seth gave Roman a devilish smile. Wrapping his arm around Romans shoulder and pulling him out of the diner. Roman felt his heart pounding in his eardrums.

You felt the presence of your friend next to you.

“You okay sweetheart?” she asked. Looking at you with concerned eyes.

“Fine, I’m fine.” You spoke. Before continuing to clean the tables. Jealousy bubbling up inside of you as well as hurt. But what did you expect you left him all because he was a werewolf. You couldn’t be mad at him for moving on.

“Y/n...” Your friend started to say, only to get cut off.

“Darling, could we get two coffees.” A soft feminine voice spoke. You turned your attention towards the elderly couple you served before. Giving them a sweet smile.

“Of course, ma’am.” You replied, taking the tray, and spray, as well as the cloth with you behind the counter, putting them in the sink, then going over to the coffee machine, grabbing two cups and making their coffees, then going over towards the table and handing it to them. You kept yourself busy, trying not to think about Roman with another woman…

Your friend and you let out a heavy sigh. Sitting on a stool, while your friend counted the money in the till.

 __________________________________________

“Today was hectic.” Your friend sighed.

“Yeah.” You mumbled. Mind running off elsewhere.

“Are you okay?” She asked you.

“Why would I care, he can date whoever he wants now.” You spoke. As tears pricked your eyes.

“Babe.” She sighed. She quickly put the money back in the till. Her hands grabbed your hands. Squeezing them reassuringly.

“I just hope he trusts her enough to tell her his secret.” You spoke. Sniffling making your friend frown. She gave you a sad smile. She knew where this was going.

“Maybe he thought he was protecting you from the secret he was keeping.” She spoke. As tears fell from your eyes.

“Y/n, I’m not telling you what to do, but your miserable, and he is, you should fight for him, win him back.” She spoke. Her thumb caressing the back of your hand.

“Obviously not that miserable if he is going on a date with another woman.” You bitterly muttered out. Sniffling a bit.

“Then fight for him, tell him how you feel, I know you are scared of whatever he told you or you found out he was hiding, but somewhere deep down you love him. And he loves you, I can see it in his eyes he needs you, he loves you. Go get him, before you lose him forever.” She spoke. Letting go of your hands, she gave you a pointed look, nodding in the direction of the door.

You gulped, getting up. You gave her a scared look, making her give you a reassuring smile. You turned around and rushed out of the door. Running towards Roman’s house. Heart pounding in your chest.

You stopped at in front of Roman’s house. Dread washing over you as you saw Roman’s lights out. Jealousy and sadness washing over you. eyes filling up with water. Feeling like your heart sunk to the pit of your stomach. you felt like the whole world was closing in on you. You missed your chance.

The sound of Romans voice behind you made you jump. You turned around quickly. Making you feel slightly dizzy.

“Y/n?” Roman questioned, cocking his head to the side in confusion. As he stood in front of you.

The words getting caught in your throat, as you looked at him in shock. Every time you tried to talk it came out inaudible.

“I’m scared…” You whispered. Making Roman wet his lips.

“I love you, I do, no matter how hard I try not to, I will always love you, but I’m scared, Roman, I’m scared that you will lose control and wolf out and hurt me, what I saw in that warehouse scared me..” You confessed tears blurred your vision.

“Y/n…I would never hurt you.” Roman reassured you.

“But you did in a way of not trusting me enough to tell me your secret.” You whimpered.

Both of you stared at each other intently. Before Roman was the first one to break the silence.

“I never went on a date with that woman Seth set me up with, I couldn’t she’s not you. I only love you, y/n, and I will do whatever it takes to get back with you, I need you in my life whether its platonically or romantically.” He confessed, making your heart swell.

You looked away as tears fell from your eyes. Roman felt his heart plummet to the pit of his stomach. You quickly wiped your tears away. Before looking at him.

“Baby steps.” You spoke softly. Smiling softly at him. Roman’s eyes gleamed with happiness.

“Can I hug you?” He asked. Making your heart flutter a bit.

“Yes.” You spoke softly. Making Roman beam.

He walked a bit closer to you, wrapping his arms around you, and pulling you into his strong warm chest. You rested your head against his chest, wrapping your arms around him. While Roman breathed in the smell of your hair, a warm feeling coursing through the both of you….

[lovelylogans]

honey, you’re familiar (like my mirror)

see other chapters, warnings, and notes here!

chapter three: psycellic consentia

psycellic consentia: psycellium (or psycelium) is a psychic nervous system that allows sensates to connect with one another. sensates have a solitary "above" existence, and are connected "below" via the psycelium. consentia, latin: knowledge shared with others, being in the know or privy to, joint knowledge; complicity; knowledge within oneself, consciousness, feeling.

ROMAN

It hasn’t even been five minutes since Sasha left to grab dinner, but Roman’s already feeling strangely jittery.

A nap would be a fruitless venture, he’s realized, so he’s gotten up to pace around the room, reciting the lines of the scene he’s meant to be filming tomorrow. He knows them all by heart, naturally, but it’ll be an odd scene to shoot anyways. His character, Pablo, would be escaping from the grasp of his friend-turned-betrayer (who would turn out to have been bluffing and truly Pablo’s friend all along by the end of the movie) by sprinting through the forest, making his getaway by leaping into a river and swimming away.

This stunt he doesn’t get to do; he’s already technically filmed the scenes when he’s in the water, and a stunt double will be “jumping off the cliff.” So tomorrow is going to be entirely on-location, acting then sprinting through the forest.

So Roman chants his lines to himself, pacing in his room with his eyes closed, trying his hardest to sink into Pablo’s mindset. And, after a few minutes of running his lines over in his head, it’s like he’s actually walking in the forest; the snap of a twig under his feet, the smell of leaves and dirt, the cooing of various birds.

Roman’s jaw drops, because—because no way. No way.

No fucking way is his brother standing there, with a bundle of twigs tucked up under his arms, staring at Roman the way a kid would stare at a particularly adventurous snail journeying along the ground.

Well, the way Remus would look at an adventurous snail, as a kid. Roman would have probably just fled the snail in favor of playing with wooden swords and rescuing imaginary damsels.

"Aw, c’mon, man, what the fuck," Remus grumbles, looking skyward as if asking for some kind of divine intervention, though Roman knows that's never been the case, much to their chronically Catholic abuela’s dismay.

She probably would have been pleased if Roman tacked on a God rest her soul there, but considering her abysmal reaction when her grandson decided to be an actor and an even worse reaction when her other grandson informed them all that he was, in fact, a grandson, he's never really wanted to please her anyway.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Remus says tightly, dropping his bundle of twigs. 

Remus. Remus is here. Or Roman is there? Whatever, it doesn’t matter, there he is. That’s Roman’s brother.

“What, are you trying to lure me in for the police to catch me? Because it’s not going to fucking work, Roman.” 

God, he’s alive, he doesn’t look hurt, he’s—well, actually, Roman has no idea if he’s safe or not. He just kind of looks like he’s dirty, with scraggly hair and smudges on his face. This alone isn’t entirely unusual for Remus, but the amount of it is. But—he’s here. He’s alive. He has some form of shelter, he’s probably been eating, he’s okay—

“Or are you just here to—”

Roman staggers forward and flings his arms around Remus’ neck, hugging him as tight as he can, almost as if he can feel what Remus feels, the arms wrapping around his neck and the arms wrapping around his torso in kind, feeling echoes of what he does, and what Remus does, bouncing between like a seismic shock.

Across the world, Janus smiles in his sleep; Emile wiggles happily in his chair while waiting for his next therapy session; Patton grins at a wall about nothing in particular; Logan touches his own shoulders, blinking rapidly in surprise at the weight of phantom arms holding him close.

REMY

Remy is used to experiencing emotions that aren’t his.

When he feels a near-violent joy sprouting up in his chest, he pauses briefly in pouring a customer a cup of coffee to put a hand on his chest and smile to himself.

He’ll ask Emile what’s got him so happy later. He’s just happy that Emile is happy.

REMUS

Remus blinks at Roman after Roman pulls back from the hug, hands on his shoulders, still beaming at him.

“—For a while I thought that you were coming to stay at my apartment with me, but then you never showed, and I was worried sick wondering where you were all this time. I’ve been reading all about the case—oh, that doesn’t matter now, we’re together! Now you can come here to the city, and I can post your bail so you can stay with me, and I can get you a really good lawyer, and—!”

“You’ve been reading about the case?” Remus says, his voice sounding strange even to his own ears.

Roman blinks at him. “Yeah?” There’s an unspoken duh in his tone.

“So you know that I’m the main suspect,” Remus prompts.

“Yeah…”

“So, you,” Remus says, “acting sweetheart of the nation with your dear fake girlfriend—you want to bring in a dirty gremlin accused of murder? The sibling the whole country doesn’t even know you have?” 

Roman looks suddenly anxious, as if expecting Remus to blow up and yell at him.

“Do you even think I’m innocent?” Remus continues, only faking his bluster a little.

“I mean,” Roman says. “It doesn’t really matter to me.”

“Does what matter?” Remus says. The bluster is much more faked this time.

“I mean, you’re my brother,” Roman says. “I don’t really care if you killed him or not.” 

Remus bursts out laughing.

Roman gawks at him, caught off guard, and Remus doesn’t know if it’s just from seeing Roman again, or the fact that he’s been on the run for over a week now and has only been eating the plants a hallucination taught him about, or what, but the expression on his face is just too good.

Roman! Who regularly gets caught in the tabloids! Getting a snapshot of him escorting a man wanted for murder into his warm, loving home! The mental image of the shocked expression on any pap’s face is just—oh, it would be so perfect.

“And your ‘girlfriend?’” Remus says, using air quotes. “Does she know about me?”

“No, but,” Roman says, still with that stupidly heroic, determined look on his face. “I’ll tell her. I’ll tell her tonight, even. She’ll understand.”

Right. If anyone else was as much of a media darling, it was Roman’s fake girlfriend, with her big, brown, innocent eyes and absolute inability to seem like she’s used to being famous.

“Oh, that’s too good,” Remus chortles. “Yeah, Roman. Okay. Sure. You go ahead and tell her.”

“I’m gonna!”

“Sure, fine,” Remus says, waving him off. “Make arrangements to bring your murderous brother home. I’ll catch a bus or something, I’m sure no cop is gonna see me and arrest me on the way to your apartment.” 

“I will,” Roman says, firm and resolute, and Remus just shakes his head, grinning still.

Of the pair of them, people seemed to think Remus was the crazy one when it was clear that Roman was absolutely bonkers. But at least he’d grown a pretty good sense of humor since Remus had been accused of killing someone.

JANUS

“Fucking finally, Jazza.”

Janus considers getting up and walking right back out, but unfortunately, his stomach is already set on fish and chips with the made-in-house sauce here. He wearily begins to weigh the costs of putting up with Key and the nickname “Jazza” against the benefits of sriracha aioli. 

And money. The money ends up winning out every time.

Three more jobs, Janus tells himself. Just three more jobs, and then you don’t have to put up with the risk anymore. Two, if one of them has a bigger compensation than average, and for the quality of my work...

It’s a lie, of course. Janus has been telling himself three more jobs ever since he clawed his way onto the bar standards board, years ago.

“What’s been going on with you, anyway?” Key says around a mouthful of chips, which garbles his speech beyond recognition. Unfortunately, Janus has known Key long enough that he can translate it with ease.

“Chew with your mouth closed and clean up your face,” Janus says, unable to stop himself. Habits are difficult to kill, Janus supposes.

Key rolls his eyes but obligingly blots at his face with a napkin. “D’you got it?”

Janus offers a small box wrapped like a present in answer. Inside is a hard drive containing the information their client had requested.

Key takes it, grinning, and stuffs it into his hoodie pocket.

“Be careful with that,” Janus scolds.

“You say that every time,” Key says. “Have I ever lost one of your—”

Janus glares at him.

“—one of the fruits of your labor?” Key says, quickly back-pedaling, realizing they’re in a public setting and a waitress is fast approaching with Janus's order.

“This smells amazing.”

Janus tries his best not to startle, but even with two days to process what the man in his mirror had told him, it’s still bizarre.

The actor beside him looks briefly embarrassed as if he hadn’t meant to say that aloud. Janus glances over at him—a member of his cluster, what an unappealing word—and sees a glimpse of a cramped little trailer. On a movie set, probably? He’s wearing leather pants and a leopard-print shirt that Janus has the feeling he’d never wear in real life.

Janus also feels the grumbling in Roman’s stomach. Janus sighs to himself.

“And another basket of chips with extras of that same sauce, please.”

“You got it, lovey,” she says, turning to go.

“Extra hungry, then?” Key says.

“Something like that,” Janus says neutrally. Without asking for Janus's permission—maybe knowing Janus was about to offer anyway—Roman reaches out and gulps deeply from Janus's Ribena.

“How’s,” Janus says, briefly casts about in his mind for the name of the latest love of Key’s life, and lands on, “Francesca?”

Key snorts. “Ancient history, mate.”

Not exactly surprising. Key’s always fancied himself a romantic, but he’s never been able to follow through on his commitment to anything ever.

“M’goin’ on a date with a bird tonight, though,” he says around a mouthful of chips.

“For God’s sake, Key, could you at least pretend you weren’t raised in a barn?” Janus snips at him, even as he’s dunking his own chips into the aioli.

Key grins at him, and Janus wrinkles his nose. He can tell Roman is doing the same beside him. They share the same sentiment at the moment, but it’s Roman’s “that’s disgusting” that falls out of his mouth.

He realizes why Key’s brow furrows a moment too late.

“Uh, bless you?” Key says; the closest he’s ever been to the Mexican vernacular of Spanish is ordering a fajita at a local Tex-Mex restaurant.

“Oops,” Roman says, not particularly apologetically. He grabs another handful of chips.

“I’m studying in my spare time,” he says and fixes Key with a look. “A hobby you could choose to emulate.”

“What’d I need more school for?” He scoffs. “Ten years was well enough.”

“To aspire for more for yourself—”

“Oh, here we go,” Key snaps, tossing down the piece of battered cod he was about to eat, splattering sauce on the wood table. “I am so sick of your “high and mighty” act.”

He mimics Janus's accent at high and mighty; Janus grits his teeth, and very purposefully enunciates his next few sentences.

“This cannot last forever, you understand.”

“No, just so long as you get rich off it, eh?”

“Um,” Roman says. “I’d offer to go and leave you two to duke this one out in private, but I’m not really sure how to stop this weird astral projection thing—”

Janus ignores him.

“Oh, as if being a lawyer doesn’t pay enough. Put your brain to some use and think, why is it that I keep helping you?!” Janus snaps, leaning across the table and softening his voice. “Why on earth do you think I continue with this?!”

“Spare me,” Key scoffs. 

“The only reason I keep doing this is because you keep doing this,” Janus hisses. “The only reason I became a lawyer was because of you getting us into trouble.”

“Don’t—” Key says, his face twisting up.

“It is because of me we are not rotting in jail, Quirinus. I’m sure it’s such a burden I want more for you.”

“It’s Key,” he grumbles before he rolls his eyes at Janus and tilts his baseball cap at him in farewell. “And since you have aspired to more for yourself, and since being a big fancy lawyer does pay so much, and since you saved me,” this is said with heavy sarcasm, “you fucking prat, you can get the bill. Much obliged, big brother.”

As he walks off, he tosses a “wanker” over his shoulder for good measure, jamming his orange cap onto his head.

Janus pinches the bridge of his nose, exhaling sharply.

There’s a pause. 

Then: the slurping of someone draining his Ribena.

Janus opens his eyes and turns his head to Roman, who’s chasing the last drops of Ribena about the glass with a straw.

“So, he’s probably not finishing that, right?” Roman says. Without waiting for an answer, he grabs a handful of chips and shoves them into his mouth. “‘Cause I’ve been waiting for Sasha to come back with dinner for like an hour now and I’m starving,” he says loudly while chewing.

Janus's jaw is slightly unhinged.

“You are a pestilence upon my life,” he says at last.

Roman smirks at him, mercifully close-mouthed, and swallows down the food that Janus supposes he’ll be paying for. Janus is certain that Roman is doing this to annoy him.

“Wait ‘till you have to deal with my brother.” He dunks the cod into the sauce. “Also, how much do you know about what’s going on here, anyway? Why do random people keep popping into my life?” 

Janus lowers his voice so they aren’t heard by any random passerby.

“Allegedly, we are known as sensates. I assume you’ve been seeing other people—we’re stuck seeing them psychically for the rest of our lives, as well as sharing specific skills, languages, emotions…”

Roman reaches for Key’s Ribena and drains that too.

“Tastes,” Janus adds pointedly. “That the other is paying for.”

“Yeah, exactly, you’re paying for it,” Roman says, and grabs another piece of cod. “It won’t go to waste now.”

“You won’t even get the nutritional benefits of eating food,” Janus says. “You’ll just get the taste of it.”

“Still, you’re getting your money’s worth. I’m helping.”

“Aren’t you rich?” Janus says. “Being an actor and all.”

“Aren’t you?” Roman counters. “Being a lawyer and all.”

Roman jams the cod into the ramekin of sauce.

“Either way, this place sure won’t take pesos, and it’s not like I can psychically transfer you money. Hey, how much do you know about Mexican law, anyways?” He takes a massive bite.

Janus puts his face into his hands for a few moments, before he reaches into his messenger pad and pulls out a legal pad and pen.

“Enough,” he says grudgingly—truthfully, not quite as much as English law. However, with this whole connection thing, they do share knowledge, so he certainly knows more now than he did before. He gestures at the waitress for another couple of Ribenas. “Why don’t you refresh me on the details of your brother’s case?”

PATTON

Patton frowns, tapping his pen against his chin as his kindergartners are all sprawled out on their mats for their post-lunch nap. He usually takes advantage of this time to catch up on marking (normally, just putting “good job!” stickers on their papers, they’re five) but right now he’s staring at something he’d written down out of the blue and trying to understand it.

He knows that he’s technically a sensate now, but does that mean his kindergartners are going to have to put up with scrawlings about Mexican flora when Patton had meant to be writing down the activities of the day?

“Aw, jeez,” someone grumbles, and Patton turns to look over his shoulder.

He grins sheepishly at the sight of an academic article plastered over with shiny star stickers. “Oops.”

The man is familiar and yet not; Patton doesn’t think he’s seen this one outside of briefly popping in and out. 

The man sighs, turning the paper over and then looking back at Patton.

“At least they’re purple,” he grumbles, and within a heartbeat, he’s gone. Patton returns his attention to his marking.

Oh, yay, he did end up putting stickers on the kiddos’ papers!

LOGAN

Not many people were particularly aware of this, especially considering the average population was generally unaware of the space research in Antarctica, but the cafeterias here are actually excellent.

In the history of Antarctic explorers and researchers, it had gone quite differently—Ernest Shackleton and Tom Crean ate seal, dog meat, and biscuits mixed with melted snow during the Trans-Antarctic Expedition of 1914—but chefs now seem to view it as an intriguing challenge, a way to sharpen their skills. 

Logan is an adequate enough cook, to the point where he can feed himself at home, but the food here is on another level. He’s finishing off his dessert, a lovely chocolate tart when a chef sits across from him at the dinner table, the same one that had served him his tray tonight.

He doesn’t know her well, so he hopes he’s disguised her squint at her nametag under the guise of adjusting his glasses.

“Very well done, Dot,” he says, lifting his fork to his mouth.

“Oh, good, you are one of us,” she says, with a level of relief that seems odd for hearing a compliment about her cooking. “I was wondering, Casimire gave me the oddest look when I told him to head off early so I could make eye contact with you.”

“What are you—?” Logan says, eyes narrowed, before his eyes flash to the kitchen, automatically looking for Casimire, the chef he’s most used to seeing.

True enough, Casimire isn’t there.

But Dot is here.

Dot is here twice.

Dot is sitting at the table with him. But Dot is smiling and chatting with one of the marine biology research team members, ten feet away. But—

“Oh, I can hear that brain working,” Dot says. She reaches out to pat his hand; it feels as warm and real as a hand can feel.

“What is this,” Logan forces through numb lips, appetite gone, chocolate tart entirely forgotten. “What are you—what is happening—?”

“Shh, shh, not too loud,” Dot says in a hushed voice. “To everyone else, it looks like you’re sitting alone. Here—you’ve got your bag with you, did you pack your earpiece?”

Logan nods.

“Put that in.”

He does as she says. What else is there to do?

The Dot in the kitchen turns to wink and smile at him reassuringly. He isn’t sure how to tell the Dot before him that there is absolutely nothing in this situation that could comfort him, and pointing out that there are two of her and that he is seeing things is not a particularly good way to go about it regardless.

He fumbles with the earpiece a few times, but he puts it in and clicks it on.

“There,” she says in satisfaction. “Now it’ll look like you’re talking over Bluetooth. Neat little trick, isn’t it? Keeps us from looking,” and she circles her ear with her finger and gives a two-note whistle, the universal sign for off your rocker. “I’m surprised your parent hasn’t taught you yet, but I suppose you are very new. Has your migraine stopped yet?”

Logan gawks at her. “How did you know I have a—?”

“Because I had one too when it all started,” she says. “All of us do. Let me tell you, I really wasn’t expecting to see a sensate down here, but I guess when you come to a place like this nothing should surprise you, right? That’s what my Larry said. But this’ll be handy, he was hoping I could meet a nice scientist to connect to the Archipelago! You’re an astronomer, right? That’s a very brainy subject.”

“Wait, go back,” Logan says. “How did you know I have a migraine? Why are you talking about my mother? Why should she have taught me about using Bluetooth? What does a group of islands have to do with anything, and what’s a sensate?”

The smile on Dot’s face slips.

“Oh dear,” she says. “Oh dear, you don’t know anything at all, do you?”

Logan gives her an offended look before he can really stop himself.

“Well,” Dot says thoughtfully. “A scientist. I bet you’d be really interested in the opportunity to send a question around the world within seconds, wouldn’t you?”

“Google exists,” Logan points out.

Dot smiles at him. “Where do you think they got the idea? Sapiens invented it in the 1990s; we’ve had it since the Neolithic.”

Against his better judgment to stop listening to what is most likely to be a hallucination, Logan finds himself very intrigued.

VIRGIL

Virgil is elbow-deep in papers about abrus precatorius, sorting them into piles for useful information or irrelevant when there’s the sound of someone hitting their knees beside him.

Virgil jumps, startled, and looks into the stunning blue eyes of Logan, the handsome Pole in Antarctica. His eyes are bright, eager, excited, and there’s a wide smile on his face.

“We’re not hallucinating,” he declares and spreads out an armful of his own notes; hastily taken, from the look of it, and he presses his fingers against an earpiece that’s blinking blue light. “Oh, and get one of these, by the way, technology has apparently made things much better for us, Dot said we’d get burned during the witch trials because we’d be talking to people who weren’t there and knowing things we shouldn’t know, but I think that’s an exaggeration. I wish there was a more central written history, but I suppose we’ve evolved in a way that word-of-mouth knowledge is the most efficient, haven’t we?”

There’s a lot of thoughts whirling around Virgil’s head—what do you mean, how do you know, why are we talking about witch burnings and evolution—but what comes out, a bit stupidly, is “You look good.”

Logan’s rambling stops in his tracks as he stares at Virgil, bemused, mouth slightly ajar.

“Um, I mean,” Virgil says. He coughs. “You look… less worried than last time. Which is. Good!” 

Logan keeps staring. With his lips parted like that, it’s all too easy to see that Logan must have licked them, recently; the sheen of it catches Virgil’s eye. He stares at Logan’s mouth. He stares at Logan.

Stop it stop it stop it he’ll think you’re weird, something in his brain shrieks, and that breaks the spell.

“So, uh, you’ve figured out what’s happening to us?” Virgil prompts.

Logan shakes himself, before he spreads out his papers, picking up one in particular. Virgil takes it, examining it; it’s two sketches of a brain. He’s familiar enough with biology by virtue of having doctors for parents to know that the sketch on the right side of the paper is not right. 

There’s something wrong with this brain.

“This,” Logan says, tapping the leftmost brain with his finger, “is the typical human brain.”

“Right, yeah,” Virgil says, frowning, and points to the rightmost brain. Their hands almost touch. “There’s something wrong with this one—something about the hemispheres, I think? It’s like there’s a growth.”

Logan moves to point to the rightmost brain, and this time, their hands do brush. But, before Virgil can think anything about it other than his hands are soft and he feels a little cold—

“This is what our brains are becoming.”

Virgil immediately panics.

“But it’s okay!” Logan says quickly as if he’s able to tell. Maybe he can—Virgil isn’t sure how clear it reads on his face. Or maybe, the way he’s been laughing at nothing or frowning at thin air, Logan can feel it. “It’s okay, it’s totally natural for us. For homo sapiens, no, but for homo sensorium—”

“Homo sensorium?” Virgil repeats, brow furrowed.

“It’s what we are,” Logan says. “Scientific name homo sensorium, colloquial name sensate.”

Sensate. Virgil hears the word, and something slips in place in his mind—it’s as if he’s heard that term before. It feels like breathing in a whiff of air and catching the scent of a sweet that sends your memory careening back to a time when you were seven and elbow-deep in dough with your grandmother. But it’s like he can’t quite fully grasp the memory. Something niggles just at the edge of it. It’s like his brain is trapped on the grandparent metaphor because he cannot stop thinking about his mother’s mother.

He sets the memory aside, for now; he’ll have time to think of it later.

Because, as Logan explains everything he’s learned so far, Virgil has absolutely zero chance of thinking about anything else. 

They spend most of the night talking about it. Even with all the bizarre aspects of what this new information brings, it’s easy to talk to Logan in a way that isn’t typical of Virgil speaking with other people. Virgil isn’t sure if that’s because they share this psychic connection, or if they’re both doctors, or if it’s some other connection.

“The way it was phrased is that we’re different types of human, but I don’t think we’re so different that it sets us apart from other people. From what I understand, the growth of our population is primarily due to epigenetic factors…”

Okay, so, primarily due to how behaviors and environments affect his genes. But what epigenetic factor triggered this in Virgil? Was this a dormant thing that could be triggered by ingesting some sort of chemical, or was it due to the way Virgil behaved? Had he done something in his life to cause all of this?

“A lot of the science is conjecture,” Logan warns, “and there was apparently some big corporation intent on doing medical experimentation on us ten or so years ago, but that’s mostly handled, you just have to be more careful about making eye contact with strangers in public…”

Oh, great, scientists hunted them down for medical experimentation so now he had to closely guard himself in any hospital! What a thrilling thing to hear for the son of two doctors!

“I’ve gathered that we can “share” certain skills or memories and that these things will become easier with practice. That’s why I could speak Xhosa and you Polish when we first met, it was the skill-sharing attribute, which could certainly come in handy for several reasons, but I also understand that we can visit each other at various times. There’s apparently a medicine you can take to block it, but it’s rather rare to come by, so unless you know a pharmacist willing to do some work under the table…”

That would almost definitely come to bite one of them in the ass at some point. What about privacy? Was he just doomed to have people from all over the world pop in on him while he’s in the shower or something?

“Dot said that she met her husband Larry through the connection, which drove off into a whole side-tangent. Apparently, romantic partners in clusters—that’s the widely accepted term, ‘cluster.’” 

Virgil pulls a face.

“I know, they could have picked literally any other more appealing word for it, couldn’t they? Bunch, group, flock, clique, assemblance—Anyways, romantic partnerships within clusters are somewhat common, and most of the sensate community finds it quite normal. I think our parent is in one, or at least that’s what Dot said.”

Logan clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. “Apparently some of the old-fashioned sensates think it’s like—what was it Dot’s parent said?—”the worst sort of narcissism.” Apparently, her parent was very displeased to be a parent and wanted nothing to do with creating bonds. I personally think that’s a rather backwards—humanity survives and thrives due to its ability to create bonds and care for each other—but I suppose I tend to think that way about a lot of old-fashioned things.”

“I guess I do, too,” Virgil muses aloud.

They sit quietly, for a while, so quietly that Virgil doesn’t notice when Logan slips away; the only thing that does bring him back from his swirling thoughts is when a voice breaks Virgil’s silence. It sends the emotions of knowing what’s happening to him shattering to the ground.

“Who on earth are you talking to?”

[98prilla]

Acceptance

Remus has a breakdown. 

A03

...

He’s shaking, trembling, really, curled up on the bed, rocking back and forth, arms wrapped tightly around himself, nails digging into his skin, but he can’t stop, he can’t stop, he’s so exhaustedly broken, but if he stops moving he’ll die.

 His room is a mess. He’s destroyed everything in it, all the furniture, his desk and his chair and his shelves, his morning star shattered to pieces. He’s already torn through his imagination, his castle in ruins, burned to the ground, ash scorching the air, the force of his screams blowing out the stained glass, and not in a fun way.

 His sketches are ripped and torn and scattered across the floor, his notebooks ripped in half, his paints stomped on, staining the floor in sticky puddles of colors, splashed against the walls, ruining the mural he’d worked so hard on, all mixing and melding into an ugly brown color.

 It’s ugly and disgusting and gross and he hates it, hates it all, hates himself, hates everything, everything here.

 The voices are so loud. They’re so loud in his head and he can’t drown them out, they eat away at his brain like acid oozing in through his ears, they rip at his skin with the force of a hurricane, peeling off his layers of skin, then muscle, then flesh, then bone, until he crumbles to dust, scraping him apart with his own bones, his own teeth turning against him as they clench down on his tongue, hot blood dripping between them, down his chin, and he can’t see anything, he’s lost, so lost, deep in his own head.

 He wants it to stop! He wants it to shut up, shut up, SHUT UP!

He’s choking on his blood and he coughs, spits, not caring that it lands somewhere on his bed, on his usually tidily made sheets, staining them red, red, red, too much red, and his fingers dig deeper into his flesh, more red dripping down his arms. He’s too hot and too cold and it aches and it burns and everything is too loud and too much, his clothes are scratchy and rough against his skin, his every breath in and out sounds like thunder, his own heartbeat pounding in his ears.

 He’s screaming. He thinks he’s screaming? He can’t tell if it’s him or someone else, but the sound is earth shattering, ear piercing, it gives him something to focus on, but soon his lungs are burning and despite everything his voice gives out, but there’s still too much left, he hasn’t let enough out, it’s still bubbling under his skin in ulcerous blisters. He screams again, but it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter, because no one is coming, no one is left, no one is here anymore. DeeDee is gone, Virgil is gone, his brother is gone, Patton never liked him, and Logan barely tolerates him, he’s all alone, no one is coming to save him from himself, and it hurts, it hurts more than a knife to the heart, it hurts more than splinters in his eyes, it hurts more than tacks in his feet, it hurts more than swallowing fire ants alive, and distantly he’s aware of hoarse, desperate sobs cracking through the silence, but it doesn’t feel real, nothing feels real.

 His world is spinning, spiraling, colors blurring and blending and reality is cracking, and he can’t even name the strange horrors he’s seeing, just vague images and ideas, filled with pain, and hurt, and violence, and he cries out for someone, anyone, for Dee, please, please, please! Then it fractures into a million, billion fractal reflections and facades and broken, empty reflections, and he knows it is hopeless.

…

It’s Logan, who finds him. Remus has been oddly silent for the last three days, and though the others brushed it off, it has him worried. Still, he was hesitant to breach Remus’s walls, but Janus was backsliding, and he knows how good Remus is with the scaled side when it comes to this.

 The room is a mess. Which is what he is expecting, to be honest, Roman’s always is too, papers and ideas and sketches hung to cork boards, plotting out his next grand adventure or novel. But this is a different kind of mess. A destructive kind of mess. Which, again, may not be unusual, until he looks closer.

 Journals. Notebooks. Beautiful drawings done in ball point pen, incredibly detailed, it would have taken hours to make some of these, and he recognizes the ripped and trampled shreds of some of them, remembers Remus showing them with pride. He can’t imagine Remus destroying them, and he adjusts his glasses nervously, taking another step deeper into the dark room, having to squint to make anything out. He fumbles around, and finally finds a light switch. It turns on green fairy lights, and all the air rushes out of his lungs before he practically sprints to the bed.

 “Remus. Remus, can you hear me?” The creative side’s eyes are open, staring blankly ahead, unseeing. He’s rocking just a bit, mumbling incoherently under his breath. He’s wearing only boxer briefs, small shivers wracking his frame, and he can’t tell if it’s from cold or shock. Dried blood covers his chin, stains his arms, and he realizes that Remus is scratching at his chest in a steady, methodical pattern. It is oozing blood, a deep X mark, nails digging deep into his flesh as if trying to claw his heart out of his chest.

  He lets out a strangled sound and catches Remus’s hands firmly, though once he’s holding them, they go limp.

 “Remus. I am going to sink out with you now.” He doesn’t think Remus can hear him, but he narrates his actions anyway, taking a deep breath and sinking out to the commons.

 “Logan?” Virgil asks as soon as he appears on the floor with Remus, setting aside his headphones. Then he catches a good look of the two of them and curses, leaping off the chair, crouching by Logan's side.

 “He appears to be in a dissociative state. He is unresponsive to both noise and touch.” He explains, voice wobbling. “I am going to fetch the first aid kit and attempt to clean off the blood to determine the extent of the injuries. Stay with him?” Virgil nods instantly, taking Remus's hands as Logan stands, shifting to kneel before him.

 “Rem. Oh, Rem, what happened?” Virgil asks softly, not expecting a response, surprised as he feels Remus squeeze his hands, eyes shooting up to Remus’s face, finding it just as blank as it was moments earlier, but his grip doesn’t loosen. He keeps a tight hold of Remus’s hands as Logan returns.

 Remus doesn’t make a sound as Logan carefully wipes away the blood, wincing at the deep scratches running down Remus’s arms, careful around the deep gash on his chest. He wraps bandages all the way up Remus’s clawed arms, then carefully sews up the gash, before packing it with gauze. Virgil is wincing in sympathy, but Remus doesn’t flinch or acknowledge them even once.

 “He’s freezing. We need to get him into clothes and warmed up. Hopefully that will help bring him out of his shock. Familiar faces and voices will also help.”

 “Janus’s room.” Virgil says automatically, grabbing hold of Logan and sinking out.

…

He's warm.

 He's wearing clothes, but they don’t scratch and scrape and dig into his skin. They’re soft and perfect.

 The voices are quieter. Still loud, still there, but quieter, and he realizes someone is speaking.

 “Rem? Can you hear me?” Virgil. His senses snap to, and he blinks, clearing his vision.

 Virgil is before him, legs curled under him on the bed, Virgil's hands in his. His eyes are wide, breath held.

 He's curled up on someone's lap, and realizes it's DeeDee, humming softly, his hands gently rubbing up and down his arms, grounding him.

 Logan is the voice. He’s sitting beside the bed, a book open in his lap, reading aloud, the even, gentle noise quieting his mind further. He lets out a deep, shaking breath, slumping back against Dee, exhausted.

 “hi.” He whispers, letting a soft gasp as Dee's hand cards through his hair.

 “Hello, darling. How’re you feeling?” Dee's voice a soft murmur, a purr against his ear.

 “Oh, ‘m fine. You know me, always getting into something or other.”

 “Remus. You were and are not fine. You have been in a dissociative state for about a day now since I found you, though it very well may have been longer as you have been absent for about three, and done significant harm to yourself in that time.” Logan, setting aside his book. He swallows hard, pushing himself out of Dee's lap, moving to the edge of the bed.

 “oh. S-sorry.”

 “For what?” He blinks, looking up at Virgil.

 “what?”

 “What are you sorry for, Remus?” He swallows hard, squeezing shut his eyes, idly scratching at his arms, before he feels someone once again take his hands. He almost whines, because he needs the pain, he needs it, it’s the only thing that helps.  

 “everything. I know I’m too much. I kn-know that’s why you left, cause I’m too loud and too annoying and too much. I can’t control myself, no matter how hard I try I just can’t and I ruin everything, and I’m not… not good.”

 “Remus. Is that what triggered you to shut down?” He picks at his bandages, before those hands corall his again, and he shakes.

 “D-dee’s gonna leave. You’re gonna leave. I’m gonna be all alone in the d-dark and it ma-kes it so much louder, it gets so loud, and I can’t make it stop, it won’t stop, but the p-ain makes them shut up, just for a bit, but it’s enough, it stops and it’s enough, and it hurts, but it’s f-fine, it’s fine! I deserve it. I can de-al with it, that’s my job, right? Handle all the bad, all the b-bad no one else wants, who cares if I can’t stop thinking what Roman would look like with his guts pulled out and strung across the bedposts, who cares if I can’t stop seeing plucking every shiny scale off of DeeDee, who cares if I try to rip my own heart out so I can crush it in my own fist, so I can never, never hurt anyone? It’s not enough, it’s never enough, it’s too much, too loud, too loud, too loud!” He screams, ripping his hands away from whoever is holding them, breath speeding as he falls off the edge of the bed onto the floor, clutching at his head and shaking.

 “nonononono No! I don’t wanna… I won’t, I WON’T! Don’t make me, don’t… I won’t hurt them, iwon’tiwon’tiwon’tiwon’t-“ Visions are filling his head, terrible, awful, horrible, and he’s clawing at himself, his face, his hands, his legs, anything, everything, because he’s bad, he’s being bad, he deserves to be punished.

 “Remus! Remus, Stop!” Virgil is pinning him down, and he snarls, kicking, fighting, gnashing teeth, then one of his hands gets loose and he swipes at Virgil with a hiss.  Virgil yelps, drawing back, and his vision clears, horrified. Four long scratch marks mar Virgil’s face, going from his left temple, across his eye, rather like Scar in the lion king. He lets out a small wheeze, scrambling back, unable to look away from the red, red, red, he hurt Virgil, he hurt him, he did that, he hurt him, he’s terrible, awful, this is why he deserves to be alone, this is what’s wrong with him, he’s not normal, he’s not good, he’s a mess and a wreck and a problem, everything that Thomas didn’t want, everything wrong with Thomas, everything wrong with the universe and they’re going to leave-

 “Ree, it’s ok, I’m ok, I promise.” Virgil, arms open, and he howls as he falls into them, clutching at him, whimpering and whispering apology after apology. “I know. It’s ok, Rem, I forgive you, I know you didn’t mean to, I know.” Virgil murmurs in his ear, rocking him.

 “I’m not leaving you, Remus. I wouldn’t ever leave you behind. I will never leave you all alone. I promise.” DeeDee, slipping behind him, wrapping both him and Virgil in his arms, and he presses tighter against Virgil.

 “It’s f-fine. I can’t hurt anyone if I’m all alone.”

 “Falsehood. You’ll hurt yourself, Remus. And that is an unacceptable outcome.” Logan, soft but firm.

 “S-so? Why… why does it matter? So what if I hurt myself? Its not… im not like all of you. I’m not important, I don’t matter.”

 “You do. Rem, you matter. I’m sorry I just… left, I’m sorry, but it wasn’t your fault. It was… a lot of things all combining, but it wasn’t all on you. It… it was mostly me. You scared me. When Lo popped up with you, there was so much blood and you weren’t talking and I thought… I just… I care, ok? I never really stopped caring, so don’t you dare give up on me. You’re the most stubborn, headstrong person I know, Rem. You’re not bad, just like I’m not bad, even if we can’t control ourselves sometimes, that doesn’t make us bad.” Virgil mumbles, holding him tight.

 “You always take care of me, Remus. I will always do the same for you, if you just ask. You hide it so well.” He curls further into a ball, new, silent tears flowing down his face as the voices finally go silent, leaving him alone in his own mind.

 “I scare Patton. Roman hates me.” He argues weakly.

 “patton has warmed up to you. He understands that you have your own intrusive thoughts, and he can see through them to your actual distress and meaning. And Roman… is difficult but he misses you more than he would ever admit. Regardless, we are not leaving you alone or behind simply because of their feelings. Not when it is a matter of safety. Your safety.” Logan replies, and he sighs, a long, shaking breath, fists uncurling from around Virgil's sweater.

 “I’ll hurt you. I have hurt you.”

 “Ah. You referring to your introduction video, when you threw a ninja star into my head and ripped out two of my teeth.” He nods, looking down at the ground. “You know you did not actually cause me any harm, Remus. I can see through your actions and recognize they are not reality. Your actions did not actually damage me in any way. You knew that would be the case, which is why you targeted me, instead of Virgil or Patton, who would take the injuries literally.” Logan counters, and he’s surprised Logan can see through him that well, even then.

 “I love you.” He mumbles. “I love you and I’m terrified I’ll go too far and actually hurt you.” Exhaustion creeps into his voice. He knows what he wants, what he’s always wanted, but he won’t ask for them to stay, he won’t obligate them like that, when they should want to run as far and fast as they can. “you should leave me behind.” His throat feels dry when he says those words, the opposite of what he wants, but it’s what’s right.

 “Remus. Would it be accurate to state the thoughts get louder and progressivly more violent and dark in nature the longer you are without contact?” He furrows his brow, confused.

 “I… I guess. It… in the dark and the quiet there’s nothing else, just my own head and I can’t get out of it.”

 “Have the thoughts stopped now?”

 “yes, I mean, they never really stop, but they aren’t the only thing anymore, I can push them to the back of my head and only let the smaller ones slip out. It’s like a whisper when it was a scream earlier.”

 “Then why would we leave, darling?” Dee asks, and he blinks.

 “What?”

 “You pretty much just said that being around people and ambient noise makes your intrusive thoughts easier to manage, and stops you from getting so sucked in you end up hurting yourself, you idiot. So if you’re hanging out with us, yeah, they’re still gonna happen but they’re not gonna be as bad. Probably easier to control, just like my anxiety. That’s what a support network is for, Ree. It… it took me a long time, I guess, to actually learn that for myself, but it was worth it.” Virgil mutters, face a bit red, though he doesn’t miss the small, proud smile on Logan’s lips, the gleam in his eye as he looks at Virgil.

 His own mind is reeling. Of course, it’s easier to keep them quiet when there’s other noise around, of course touch is grounding and helps keep him centered in the present, of course doing things, activities, writing, drawing, helps keep his mind focused and allows him to let out the thoughts without hurting anyone, he just… he didn’t think the others would care about all that enough to justify letting him be around them.

 “I mean, I know that! I just… I didn’t think any of you would want to be part of mine.” He mumbles, hugging himself with a slight shiver.

 “Of course we will. We love you too, or whatever.” Virgil mumbles, pulling Remus back into a hug, before grinning and hefting him up in his arms, depositing him back on the bed despite his surprised screech of protest.

 He laughs as DeeDee settles beside him once again, stretching out and resting his head in Dee’s lap, legs laying atop Virgil, who snorts, but doesn’t move, simply grabs a fluffy throw blanket and tosses it over him.

 “We’ll speak to the others tomorrow. I don’t expect a problem integrating you into the group, Remus. It will be beneficial for everyone. All of us working together is what is supposed to happen, anyways.” Logan says, voice smiling. “For now, you need to rest and let everything heal.”

 “ok. Keep reading? I… it helps, I think. He mumbles, already half asleep. He hears Logan’s voice start again, steady, feels Dee’s hand in his hair, feels Virgil holding his hand, and he smiles, tears dripping down his face. He didn’t think it was possible, any of this, and it feels… good. So, so good. For once, he doesn’t think he’s going to ruin everything. For once, he thinks the voices whispering in the back of his mind aren’t him, at heart, just a side effect of who he is and what he represents. And he knows, he’s safe from them, with so much warmth surrounding him.

[malethirsty]

Villainy Washes Over - Roman Reigns & Paul Heyman

Summary: With Roman’s heel turn, a possessive gruffer nature stowed into The Big Dog. Whilst everyone else had run, you stayed, and now fresh off of his championship win, Roman was going to treat you to his new lavish way of power.

Warnings: M/M smut (21+), Bareback (Wrap Before You Tap)

“What’s the safe word?” “Shield” “That’s right babe. Now wait in here on your knees, I’ll text you when I’m on so you see me claiming what is mine. Only once I get back can you move and whilst I’m gone” he moved across to the bedside table and withdrew a black dildo, tossing it to you, landing perfectly on the floor in front of you “You might want to practice your cock sucking technique” You nodded and Roman cupped a hand to your cheek which you nuzzled into, his warmth, energy and presence washing over you. Seeing how submissive you were for him, he let a cold heel like smirk befall his face “Be good for me and I promise, you will be rewarded. Yessir.” He flashed his familiar hand pose and a sparkling grin your way as he made to leave your shared apartment, shutting the bedroom door behind him. 

The night seemed to trail by, the time elapsing placing more pressure on your form as your knees began to tire from their stationary position, so you sprawled your hands out in front of you and began to practice your head game per Roman’s instructions, you simply wanted to make your man proud of you, especially these days. As Roman began his heel transition and recruited Paul Heyman to be his special advisor, he had become stronger, more brutal, and it had turned you on to no end. Whilst the WWE Universe processed the shock of his sudden change of heart, he was pounding into you on your bed, snarling and growling as he fucked you, almost like a man possessed. The day before when Paul showed up to discuss strategy (which included a neat way of getting the championship quickly by signing the contract at the PPV when both men were down and out) Roman told you he was planning a celebration night and to prepare, and knowing he meant he’d fuck you to winning an inch of passing out, you trained, determined to make your time together the best time of his life. 

After a while of trying different positions, your phone dinged and you slid a hand into your pocket to retrieve it. Sure enough it was indeed Roman telling you to tune into Backlash. So you moved to the remote and turned on the flat screen, on it Roman with Paul signing the contract for the match, lobbing the pen away as he made his way down the ramp. To your surprise the ring had snapped, but as you processed it, it dawned on you that the men inside must be spent and soon Roman would win. As you watched on as a new referee was called down to take the knocked out ones place, it was fair to say your nerves were spiking, especially when Braun & The Fiend kept kicking out. After several intense moments involving a mandible claw, a low blow and a sharp ‘Bitch’ sent towards the ref courtesy of your chief, Roman nailed down Braun with a spear and took back his Universal Championship, the title he never lost. The conquering Big Dog returning to his yard victorious was what closed off the PPV and you smiled, he would be in a good mood once he got back, and that always meant a great fuck. 

In comparison to when Roman had left the apartment, waiting for him to return was better, probably because you knew he had the title, so the waves of nerves had subsided, all your focus on was giving your master the celebration he deserved, whatever it entailed. Soon after you had this thought, you heard movement outside as the door to the apartment opened, and feet could be heard pacing down the hallway. Throwing the dildo under the bed, in case Paul accompanied Roman, you turned your attention to the door, awaiting Roman. The door to the bedroom opened, and as you expected there in all his sweaty, pristine glory, stood Roman with Paul bringing up the rear. You launched yourself into Roman’s arms with a kiss, which Roman returned tenterfold, growling in between “What did I tell you babe? The Universal belt is back where it damn belongs.” “I can tell your happy Y/N, now you have what everyone in the world is dying to get their hands on, the new REIGNING, DEFENDING & UNDISPUTED CHAMPION: ROMAN REIGNS!” You broke apart from Roman laughing at Paul’s over exhuberance, with years of being on opposing sides, you were still getting to grips with Roman’s hired help, so his bombastic nature was still a lot to behold.

“Now Paul, I wondered how to thank you for all you have done, and then I remembered I had Y/N here, and I knew the perfect gift for you. Sit on the bed.” Paul’s face shot up at Roman’s statement, quickly crossing over and sitting, clearly not wanting to question Roman and risk injury as had happened so many times with other clients. You glanced at Roman, wondering what he was planning. The answer came quick as Roman gave you his next command “Crawl to Paul and stay at his feet.” You obeyed, sinking down to the floor once again, though this time you crawled towards Paul, his expression now shifting to puzzlement “Roman, I appreciate the sentiment, but he’s yours, I couldn’t possibly.” “Of course not Pauly, only I get to fuck him, but tonight you’ll get blown by him, my treat. Besides, for the past two hours he’s been training to please you Paul, and I’d hate for it to go to waste.” Capitalising on Roman’s sentiment, you pouted and said “Please sir, I need it, need to take your cock in my mouth and suck the cum out for you. I want it all in my mouth. I bet you haven’t came in a long time, let me take care of you Mr. Heyman.” Paul looked flabbergasted at seeing your estate demeanour change to arousal, but Roman watched over you with a smirk, he knew full well you’d act like this to get what you wanted, and knowing that Paul had a weaker resolve than him, it was only a matter of time before he gave in and sure enough, he gave you a sneer, hands going to his belt “Yes, Take off your pants and relax, while Y/N gives you the best blow job you’ll ever have.” Roman said, a growl in his tone as he crossed to where Paul was sitting on the bed to get a better view of what you were about to do.

“Let Paul fist your hair, and let him guide you on his dick.” Roman told you, and no sooner had you gazed up, noticing Paul had disposed of his pants, then his pudgy hand had your hair in a sharp grip guiding you in-between Paul’s legs and in your domain now, you wrapped your lips around the bulbous head of Paul’s cock. You heard him take a ragged breath as your hot mouth wrapped around him, “Oh God! Fuck!” Escaped Paul’s mouth, clearly overawed by your mouth on his cock, your ego sated, you began to map out his cock, tracing every vein, finding pressure points, anything to make Heyman squirm and your man happy. “That’s it Y/N, suck it nice and slow.” His sinister tone back in place, you obeyed, moving on from mapping and setting a rhythm where Paul could enjoy your ministrations without nutting immediately. Roman cocked his head to observe you, dark  eyes staring down at your submissive nature “That’s right Bitch, take him all the way down, gag on his cock.” Roman spoke, his low voice filling every corner of the room, and you obeyed, letting Paul slide down your throat, your bottom lip right over the top of the council’s balls. At this Paul collapsed onto the bed with a loud thud, broken moans emitting from the man’s mouth, mixed in with cries of ‘Yes!’, expletives and your name fresh on his mouth, you attacked with even more gusto, with Roman watching on, face unchanged, yet within, bursts of pride were exploding as he watched you in your natural state, driving Paul closer and closer to the edge. 

Craving the sight of you pushing Paul over the edge, he swiftly moved behind you and gripped Paul’s hand and the strands of your hand he had in a vice grip. Paul’s hand immediately lost it’s strength as Roman took over, one hand ripping you from Paul’s cock, his other hand gripping the base of his council’s cock, looping his thumb around his balls for good measure “You’re gonna show Paul your special trick? Gonna keep it all in and let it out when I tell you?” He asked you, your head tilting to face him, you nodded “Then suck him down Bitch” Roman growled and not waiting a moment longer, Roman shoved you down so you taook Paul completely down your throat, cock and his balls filling up your mouth, until you reached Roman’s thumb, an indicator that all of Paul was in your mouth, so you mapped out not only his cock, but his balls as well this time. The man before you had lost all composure, a mixture of sounds coming out as he reacted to the bliss your mouth and tongue was putting him through. Roman slunk over to Paul’s sweaty writhing form and got up close “Yeah, it feels good don’t it? We’ve worked at that for months, Y/N & I.” Paul looked at Roman, but couldn’t speak, he was so spaced out on bliss. Roman cocked his head up at Paul and set his gaze on him “Cum for Y/N, cum for him Paul, fill his mouth” A ragged drawn out cry came from Paul as his cock convulsed in your mouth, shooting load upon load down your throat, making you gag slightly as you kept it in, determined to give Paul at least one last sight, letting Roman see how good you were at obeying his orders. Once Paul had stopped moving and was panting, Roman turned his attention to you “Let it out Y/N” he instructed, knowing what was coming next. You let Paul’s cock and balls fall from your mouth, letting them plop back to their owner before you struck eye contact with Heyman and let his load out, cascading down the shirt you had on, surely trailing down to your pants as well, but at this point you didn’t care, you’d obeyed Roman and that was what mattered “Such a good whore.” Roman smirked down at you “Isn’t he Paul?” He turned his attention back to his partner, whom looked stunned at everything that had gone down, only being able to nod at Roman’s question. 

“Go to the lounge Pauly, wait for me there, and also there’s a change of clothes down the hall if you need to change for ‘whatever reason’” Paul lifted himself off the bed, and moved out of the room, hand reaching for the door before Roman’s voice came again “Leave it open”. Knowing whatever Roman was planning next was intense, adrenaline started to course through you as you let a half smile cross you, Paul corrected himself and left quickly. The moment he dissapered down the hall, Roman turned to you, flashing his pearly whites in a big smile “You did well baby, I’m proud of you for ‘helping’ Paul out.” You shot a smile at Roman sweetly “The pleasures all mine Chief.” He grinned, he was liking this new name he was coining himself as, but now was not about him alone, it was about him and Y/N. “You deserve a reward for being so good Y/N.” “Yes please.” “Yes please what?” “Yes please Roman.” You said, taking effort to emphasise his name. The Samoan flashed a smirk your way as he soaked in your pretty words, and holding a hand out so as to keep you in place where you were, he began to undress tantalisingly slow. First his shirt, his beautiful tribal tattoo striking your eyes as you gazed over his torso, taking in his beauty. Shoes and socks were next, followed by his pants, leaving his boxers, where printed on the fabric was his arousal. Backing up to the window and withdrawing the curtains, he backed up against the window and proceeded to remove his pants, his cock springing up, erect and dripping with precum, your time with Paul clearly putting a number on the Universal Champion. 

He looked at you and commanded you simply but firmly “Get Naked With Me”. You obeyed instantaneously, disposing of your messy shirt and your pants so you were the same as Roman. Once this was done, he beckoned to you, sticking a finger out and cocking it towards him, excitement coursing through you, you stepped towards him until you were up close to the Samoan God. “You want me?” You nodded, lust in your eyes as Roman gripped his cock, thumb gliding over his wet tip “Then come and take it baby.” He growled, and you made the final moves, stepping forward, wrapping your legs slightly around Roman’s, you lowered yourself onto his cock, both of you groaning as you encased his member in your tight heat “Ride me Y/N, ride daddy’s dick.” Slowly, you began to back yourself onto Roman’s cock, breathy moans escaping your mouth as you began to adjust to his length. Roman backed into the glass window for leverage, using the glass to hold you up as he met your thrusts, making you cry out. You looked past Roman out the window, at the skylines alight and taking in the sounds below of the street, if someone happened to look in from a window they’d see you being dicked down, or if Roman hit your prostate in just the right way, someone would hear you being fucked by the Universal Champion, and you didn’t know what turned you on more, the feeling of voyeurism or the fact Roman was press naked against the glass, ass flat against it as he fucked into you, making you his Bitch.

As you were lost in these thoughts, you felt a hand gripping your hair, pulling your gaze to the Tribal Chief himself “Don’t look outside right now, look at me. No one outside is fucking you, I am. Your gonna look at me in the eye when I bury my cock in your ass, is that understood?” “Yes sir” you breathed out, both shocked and turned on at the same time. “I know it’s hard.” Roman chuckled “You get some good dick and immediately want to flex, I know babe. That’s why I brought you this far, so anyone watching could be jealous of you, or anyone watching could wish their man could fuck them like how I fuck you. But you need to know who deserves your full attention, who is it Y/N?” He buried himself balls deep again, sending ripples of pleasure through you once again, however Roman had stilled and you knew you had to answer him in order to get him moving again “Y-you Roman, only you.” “Good” he growled as he walked away from the window, and placing you on the bed “No one else makes you feel the way I make you feel in bed baby.” He said it as a statement, not as a question, he knew no one else could compare. “Now hold onto my back, Imma fuck you like a man.” And true to his word, Roman began to piston forwards faster and rougher than ever before, his hand moving down to grasp at your throat, causing you to shudder as Roman’s fingers began to tighten, constricting your breath slightly, causing you to surrender to the pleasure that Roman was sending through your body as he continued to fuck you deeply and rougher than before. 

Roman soon bent down & began to leave love bites and hickeys down your neck, that, plus the pressure on your neck as well as Roman’s strong thrusts into your ass left you on the precious of orgasm “R-Roman, I’m going to cum!” You cried out to Roman, who only increased his pace “Fuck yeah, do it Y/N, come for me, you look so damn pretty, coming from my dick, from how hard I’ve fucked you, it gets so tight when you do it as well, makes my dick even harder. So do it!” With Roman’s command coming out as a snarl, you gave in, shooting your load all over yourself, making Roman moan out even more watching the spectacle beneath him, and from the tightness your hole was implementing around his cock. Roman suddenly pulled out, causing you to whine and throw your head back at the emptiness “Urgh, Roman? What?" Heavy leather was suddenly placed onto your bare chest and wondering what was going on, you lifted your head to look up to see an astonishing sight: Roman moaning breathlessly as one hand stroked his chest, the other hand stroking his cock, aiming for his Universal Title draped across you. “Y/N, you’re gonna watch me come on MY title, and then you’re gonna clean it up for me.” If you had as much stamina as Roman, you would have shot a second load right there and then, but you concede yourself by watching Roman stroke himself, showing himself off. From how hard Roman had fucked you, you knew he was close to his end, and sure enough, Roman’s hand went faster and faster “Fuck I’m gonna cum! Fuck yes! Fuck!” The rest of his speech dissolved into groans and curses as he shot load upon load onto the Universal Championship title, gaining his ragged breath back, he motioned for you to clean the belt, and so you moved forward, placing the title on the bed so Roman could watch over you as you licked his salty load off of the belt, a guttural laugh coming from the champ.

Once you had taken care of licking the belt, you looked up at Roman who surged down to kiss you, you responding back with equal passion “Fuck Y/N, you never disappoint me when we fuck around like this.” “Thanks Chief” you responded, grinning at the praise. “Now see Mr. Heyman out, that is if he hasn’t come again, in which case, make sure he’s decently dressed before he leaves. Then we’ll shower and sleep, tomorrow I’m spending the whole day naked, so we’ll fuck whenever we want.” His proposal sounded like the best thing ever on offer, so you gave him another kiss as you got up to help Paul, Roman was left alone as he got up and crossed to the window, fully naked and opened his arms, as if to bask in the glory of his newfound victory. He had changed big time from who he once was, but as long as he had you, his title & Paul by his side, nothing was going to stop him from conquering the world. 

[handonshipper]

If I Knew Then What I Know Now: Chapter Three

Hope headed downstairs after putting her father to sleep. The voices in her head caused by the Hollow were getting to her. It was getting harder and harder to manage. The most relief she had gotten since she took in the Hollow's magic again was when she was spending time with the waiter from the Mystic Grill, Landon Kirby, yesterday. Something about being around him was different. A little distracting at least. But she was dangerous to be around right now, and she knew it. Which was why she did not consider going to find him.

The tribrid wondered what exactly the waiter was doing in New Orleans, her home town. Was it merely a coincidence or something more? She felt drawn to trust Landon and felt comfortable around him, but she had also recently been betrayed by Roman, her ex boyfriend, which resulted in her mother's death. At the thought of this, the voices grew, and she struggled to ignore them. She breathed out slowly and entered Rousseau's bar. "Declan, hey, I need a favor from the bar." Suddenly her body froze as she spotted a familiar face, her anger flaring up again. Elijah Mikaelson. Her uncle. "What are you doing here? Killing my mom wasn't enough? Now you've come for Declan?"

"That's not what I'm here for." Elijah disagreed, but Hope didn't care. She just wanted to be angry at him. To not let her own guilt sink in. It was painful enough the brief moment it had while she was with Landon. It was easier for her to be angry with Elijah instead of facing all of it. And the voices in her head certainly weren't helping.

"He killed her" Declan said, stunned.

"That's not what happened." Elijah defended

"No, but if you weren't there, she'd still be alive." Hope said, and her rage fueled the voices, causing then only to get louder and louder. She clutched her head. "Stop! God, stop!"

"What's going on with you?" Declan asked, confused and concerned at what was happening to her. He moved to go towards her but stopped as Elijah grabbed his arm.

"Stop! Shut up! Shut up!" Hope shouted. Their voices certainly weren't helping the situation.

"What did you do?" Declan interrogated Elijah. Elijah grabbed him by the neck and pinned him up against the bar.

"Hey, don't hurt him!" Hope said, moving closer, momentarily distracted from the voices by the scene before her.

"I won't. We can't do this in front of him."

"Okay, fine." She waved her hand and put Declan to sleep. The human then fell to the floor. "Now it's just the two of us."

"My memory was gone. I didn't know who she was."

Considering everything the tribrid was feeling at the moment, that wasn't a good enough excuse. "Well, now you do. How does it feel?"

"Like the worst pain I've ever experienced."

The whispers got more intense in her head, and she put her hands on her head and looked around a little, trying to force away the voices. She lowered her hands and looked at her uncle. "I hate you."

"I hate me, too." Elijah said, self loathing obvious in his eyes.

Hope knew she shouldn't blame him, but right now she needed to be angry with someone, and it was easy to be angry with him. "You let her die." In a flash of rage, consumed by emotions and the hollow's magic, Hope waved a hand, cutting him magically repeatedly as though she was clawing into him until he collapsed

"Hope" spoke a familiar voice, but the tribrid didn't give herself a chance to process who the voice belonged to. In a flash of rage, she waved her hand back and caused a deep gash across the person that entered. "Hope" the voice repeated, though now it had a groan, and the tribrid suddenly realized who the voice belonged to.

Landon Kirby.

Landon was walking down the street as he thought about everything that happened. He wanted to make sure Hope was alright. He hadn't seen her since the day before. But he also did not want to interact with her, no matter how much he wanted to. He knew that he was no longer the same Landon Kirby he had been before he melted into a pile of goo. Before he had been sent to Malivore and lived what felt like years in complete isolation, Before he had to fight monsters in the prison world to survive.

He knew he was darker, fought with both brawn and brain. He attacked first and didn't let himself worry about the consequences. He just needed to fight and kill. That had been his mindset for the past several weeks since he got out of Malivore. And now he was here, surrounded by people.... It was a lot, and he wasn't sure that he could manage it well enough not to end up being a burden on Hope or anyone else.

Suddenly, he heard Hope's voice from inside Rousseau's as he neared it. "Stop! Shut up! Shut up! Hey, don't hurt him!" There was a little bit of a pause "You let her die!"

A concerned Landon Kirby stepped into Rousseau's and called out her name to get her attention. "Hope" Suddenly, without really paying attention to who it was, Hope waved a hand back. Suddenly, a large gash cut across Landon's chest magically, and he stumbled back a bit, leaning against the wall as blood started soaking his shirt. "Hope" he repeated, groaning a little in pain. This wasn't a wound he could exactly stitch up.

"Landon?" Hope questioned,   her eyes widening in horror at what she had done. "Oh god" she said as Landon slowly slid to the ground, putting pressure to his own wound. She grabbed something sharp from nearby and cut her palm. "Here, drink this", she said, putting it near his mouth but not on it.

Landon shook his head, not wanting to risk being sent back to Malivore. He wasnt sure what exactly happened. But he also didn't want to take any chances.

"It can heal you. Drink" Hope said, looking at him, her eyes wide in concern.

Landon shook his head again. "Not you" he said, forcing back a groan of pain

A hurt expression flickered across her face, and she moved her hand away. He could see her wound closing up. Her uncle, Elijah, was healing from his own wounds at the moment.

"Hope. What happened?" Klaus questioned, walking inside the bar.

"I uh. I attacked Elijah, and Landon came in. And I accidentally hurt him too" Hope said. "And he's refusing to drink my blood. I don't know why. I told him it would help"

Klaus walked over and bit his own wrist before feeding it to Landon forcefully. Landon drank some of the hybrid's blood. He coughed some of it up, anxious about how vampire blood would affect him.  But the blood already started to heal him. His eyes drifted shut and Landon lost consciousness.

Hope was pacing downstairs in the Mikaelson home, trying to keep herself calm and have as much control over the whispers as she could. It had died down after she hurt Elijah. The pain wasn't as bad as it had been before. But she knew it was only temporary. She looked up as her father came downstairs after putting Landon.

"How is he?" She asked immediately.

"He's alright, just sleeping. He's getting a bit feverish, but it's mild." Klaus said, looking at his daughter. "Who is he?"

"His name is Landon, and he's human. He, uh, he used to serve me milkshakes at the Mystic Grill. He took a trip here. I'm not sure how long he is staying. He says it depends on if he has reasons to stay."

"What was that? You won't take my help, you reject the bracelet, you're throwing Elijah around" Klaus said, looking at his daughter with worry.

"It stopped the voices." the tribrid admitted, trying not to sound as vulnerable as she felt.. She had all of this power and she knew it was killing her. And the voices were so intense, part of her wanted to scream and take out all of New Orleans to feel better.. But she didn't want to hurt people. She never wanted that. It was why she worked hard to control her magic so she never used too much. Never used more than necessary for a given occasion. Though she hadn't exactly been following her own rules lately.

Her father looked at her, stunned "What?"

"Ever since I took the power back, the whispers... I can't think, I can't sleep, I can't even breathe. But right now, it's silent. Is this the rest of my life? A rage that can only be quieted by violence?"

"Hope, if violence is what you need to feel better, then you have the perfect father. We'll handle this. In the meantime, you should probably keep your distance from your friend. Landon"

"I was thinking the same thing." Hope said, looking at him. "Thank you for bringing him here and making sure he was alright."

"You're welcome" Klaus said.

"I saw Landon yesterday" she said, trying to talk to him before the voices grew too loud again. "We talked for a bit, and I showed him around New Orleans"

"You could manage it? The voices?"

"It was... I don't know, easier around him. I can't explain it. It was still there and bothersome but it wasn't as bad. I have no idea why" Hope said as she followed her father upstairs to her room. "I thought I could handle it. I really did."

"You're handling it as best you can, and I'm gonna be here with you every step of the way." Klaus promised as he looked at his daughter.

"Will you stay with me awhile?"

"Of course I will. So do you like this boy?"

Hope was silent for a moment, but she was grateful for the focus on Landon instead of the voices constantly in her head. "Even if I did, it doesn't matter"

"What makes you say that?" Klaus questioned curiously.

"My last love interest betrayed me. I dont think I am exactly the right person to be dating"

"The first person I was truly involved with is currently under a sleeping spell in this very building." Klaus pointed out with a slight smile. "Do you like this boy"

"Yes. But I can't think about a relationship" Hope said. She never would be able to. She could feel herself dying. It wasnt fair to him. It wouldn't be fair to get involved with anyone while she was dying. Though she couldnt exactly say that to her father. "He's human. Our family gets ourselves involved in a lot of dangerous situations. And mom just-" She shook her head

"Your mother would want you to be happy"

"I know she would." the tribrid said simply but she had already made up her mind. She wanted Landon to be safe. Not be killed like Camille, Hayley, Jackson, and many others had been while close to their family. If he was genuinely as nice of a guy as he seemed, then she definitely didn't want to ruin his life, which is probably exactly what she would do if her family got involved with him. Invaded his life. He already got hurt because of her. Hope wasn't sure she could avoid that happening again if he didn't leave.

Hope was confused on why he was pushing her to be in a relationship, especially after how he reacted whenever anyone else got in a relationship. However, after looking at him for a moment, she recognized the reasoning from his expression. He wanted her to have hope. To find something to live for and to look forward to. Something to fight for besides family.

[morsquiesa]

 THE SMELL OF ICHOR HEAVY IN THE AIR, THE SOUND OF IMPERIAL GOLD BLADES CLASHING, HIGH-PITCHED SCREAMS THAT NO ONE TURNS THEIR HEAD FOR. Shining hills of the camp littered with tents, catapults, legionnaires of the Twelfth Legion Fulminata merging with the residents of the camp. Ichor. Blades. Screams. Blood. It is all too familiar, all too much of a home. Home, it feels like, the only home demigods could have ever found for themselves, in a world that has been designed to swallow them whole then spit them out. Now the cabins are coming down, roofs sinking, the dark smoke of the flames that surrounds everywhere rising to the sky, blocking the sun, making the day darker than it already is. Chaos is there, violence. Death is there, knives drawn for the innocent lives from a misplaced hatred. Underwood is in the midst of it, shouting orders for the other satyrs, trying to push back the enemy out of their breached lines. Thalia's tree is there, witnessing the horror with all its silence and might, bright leaves and branches all fading slowly with the slim protection it had to offer now shattering. La Rue is there, on top of her father's chariot, a battle cry passing her lips as she and her siblings run into the battle with all their glory, children of Ares wielding their weapons against the Romans. Solace is there, some of his siblings carrying out the wounded and the others on top of the trees on their pegasi, bows and arrows in their hands all aiming the catapults, all defending their home with a fierceness that will not yield, will not bow.

“ Drop your weapons!” 

 Nico is there. His sword clutched in his hand, standing tall to greet what he knows is coming. He has the face of a soldier, dark eyes unable to reflect anything but a stoic silence, standing tall but he is tired. Tired than he ever was, all the journey he has taken to get here for this moment draining him of the strength that a glimpse of it would have been enough to make the false praetor repent on his knees, begging for mercy. Perhaps this is why the blond boy and the dark-haired girl remain calm near him- Lou Ellen Blackstone, daughter of Hecate is holding onto the colorful bombs in her hands despite Octavian's call to drop their weapons. She refuses to, eyes burning with a fire that cannot be faded easily. The boy next to her reaches instead, his hand finding hers and a silent gaze passes between them. Lou Ellen slowly lets them to the ground.

 Octavian stands only a few meters away from them, a feral look in his eyes that lets them all know that he is blood-hungry, way past the point of return, way past salvation. “ Graecus saboteurs,” He hisses, and his hand gestures to the soldiers of the first legion waiting by his side with their weapons drawn like restless lions waiting to be unleashed from their cage. “ Tear them apart.”

 The rage Bianca feels inside her veins is something she has never felt before, with each beat of her heart a different memory plays in the back of her head. A different memory of pain, grief, misery, a different memory of everything she's ever lost, everything that has ever been taken from her because she has let it. Because you were weak, the voices whisper to her, where she stands unseen in the shadow of Thalia's tree. Because her claws hadn't been strong enough to sink in, fingers too nimble to grasp and hands too gentle to hold onto it, scared of the blood and scared of the pain, scared of losing what she has lost. You have lost everything. Maria is gone, now. Piera is gone, home is gone. Phoebe is gone, Naomi, Themia, all gone. The only one that she is yet to lose stands right there, in front of her, leaning into Lou Ellen Blackstone to not collapse to the ground. The only one that has ever mattered to her, the only one that will ever matter. Yield, Bianca.

 Everything happens so fast. A sword is swung to Nico's way, and Bianca flexes her wrist. A wave of darkness slams into the soldier out of nowhere with an agonizing scream, flying back before he collapses to the ground only by hitting another soldier on his way, taking him down too.

 I am the daughter of Hades. She thinks, and it feels like hundreds of voices are talking in the same in her head, but not in disagreement this time. There is defeat, now, in them with the realization that dawns on her. I yield to no one.

 All gazes turn to Nico, Octavian's expression priceless with a mix of rage and disbelief. “ You...” He hisses, shaking with anger, teeth trembling. “ I will crush you, ambassador. Cohort, attack!”

 Nobody moves. They do not dare, after a glance taken to the fallen soldier that now lays lifeless on the ground, life drained out of him. Nobody moves, except for Bianca that steps out of the shadows, shadows gathering around her feet with each step like a dense fog. She still hears the whispers, but now they don't only belong to the undead. Now they belong to the legionnaires, wide-open eyes on her, weapons drawn with no courage to wield one against her, all waiting for an order that won't come. “ What are you waiting for?” Octavian screams, fingers pointing to Nico, who is too distracted to care about the false praetor's tantrum with looking at his sister, the same look of wide-eyed shock also present on his face. “ Take him down!” 

“ Try, and you're dead before you blink.” 

 Her voice cuts the air like a blade, as Octavian's head snaps towards her, a look she cannot name darkening his visage. Bianca only feels hatred, with a deep passion that comes from her heart. There is only hatred and wrath now, tangling within the darkness that bends to her will. There is only justice.

“ Hunter of Artemis,” Octavian calls like he is unsure if he should be in awe, or if he should be running away, the sword in his hand now tilted towards her, as the legionnaires that surround her. Bianca pays them no attention, her scorching gaze only glued to the liar that has the audacity to stand before her with such arrogance. “ Have you come here to join your brother in his fate?” He tries to mock, but Bianca hears the undercurrent of the hesitation in his voice. He's scared, as he should be. He doesn't know what is coming for him, but she knows he can feel it, too.

“ Octavian of Apollo's legacy,” Bianca calls in return, steps slowing down as she walks toward him with her head held up, jaw clenched with a faith that cannot be wavered, faith in her, faith in everything she ever was and everything she will ever be. “ I have come here to end your nonsense war,” Faith in the power that lies ready for her, if she has the guts to reach for it. “ I have come here to burn your reign to the ground.”

 And it all builds up to this moment, the ground starting trembling beneath them, catapults shaking and the battle stopping in the sake of finding a place to hold onto, running away from the earth that cracks right underneath their feet. It spreads like a disease, and Bianca thinks it should have exhausted her, it should have drained, but all she feels is the power that runs through her veins. She faces the so-called prophet and raises her hands to her sides, they both know what is about to happen. “ No!” He shrieks, grabbing his sword and lunging towards her, and perhaps he would have gotten to her if it wasn't for the daughter of Hecate that met him halfway, a purple wave of energy that rises with a battle cry of hers crashing into Octavian again to knock him down, and it is the only second Bianca needs. The ground erupts, and thousands of bones claws their way out of it, horrified screams around her soaring as chaos breaks free.

 Bianca looks around her, watching everyone trying to save their lives from this unknown threat, both the Romans and the Greeks, watching the terrified eyes eventually find her, but there is only a pair of them that she cares about. She walks towards Nico, her brother, pushing aside all the resentment between them, all the heartbreak, and all the misery. This is not about her, and this is not about him. They are the children of the underworld, and they will write history as they have done once before. She offers him a hand and waits in patience for him to take it, breaths held by the ones who are watching. Nico looks up at her, and there is an unspoken understanding between them, everything falling into harmony, in perfect sync. He catches her hand, and she pulls him up to his feet, no need for any words to be said. “ Cursed!” Octavian shrieks once again as he tries to rise to his feet, Lou Ellen finding her place with the siblings, as ready as she could be. “ You are cursed!”

The army of thousands that eventually gathers behind her must be intimidating enough because once Octavian grabs his sword again, there is unveiled horror on his face. Bianca's hand raises in her sides once again, palm facing upwards, but this time to dare. She doesn't have the fancy commands he has, perhaps, but she doesn't need it. She gestures to the legionnaires for a second, now backing away, turning to their praetor for his command and his help, who is unable to give either. But they are not the enemy just as this is not the war that needs to be fought. So her hand shifts to the side, now gesturing towards the hoards and hoards of monsters, all lined up and ready for battle. “ My father may not be here,” She says, but to everyone, not only to him, to know that his kingdom will shine with all its glory even if Hades is gone. “ But we stand tall, stronger than we have ever been.” 

“ House of Hades,” She calls for her army, calmly for a moment before she, too, screams. “ Tear them apart!”

 And with that, the hills of Camp Half-Blood sink into darkness and chaos for a war that will be won.

[delimeful]

WIBAR Intermission: Making Adjustments (1)

welcome to the first chapter of the intermission! if you’re new to this AU, you can find the first chapter here and the ao3 story here! 

warnings: tension, blood, fear, nightmares, medical torture, needle mention

-

Virgil’s first impression of their ship was that it looked a lot less futuristic than Star Wars would have had him believe. 

It was less ‘fighter jet’ and more ‘classic UFO’ in style, cylindrical and all curves instead of edges. The panels on it seemed to be made of some obsidian-like metal, glinting in the storm’s light. He didn’t know how it compared with other ships, seeing as he’d spent most of his time in space stuck in a cell on one, and thus didn’t have many references.

Oh his shoulder, Patton shook, spraying water from his ruff of feathers like a dog after a bath. Virgil squinted as a few droplets hit his face, and ignored the odd staring that the thin, willowy alien- Logan?- was doing. If Patton’s friend had something to say to him, he could say it outright, because Virgil wasn’t a mind reader.

... Were there aliens that could read minds? 

Patton tapped his shoulder with a clawed finger, pointing at a slight imprint in the ship. “There’s the door! Luckily, we’ve got one of the bigger models since Roman is on the larger end of the alien size scale! You’ll fit just fine.” 

“Lucky isn't the word I would use.” Virgil’s shoulders rose slightly as he caught the grumble from a few feet behind him, unheard by Patton’s duller ears. If he wasn’t so on edge, he’d be annoyed. If Roman was going to shit-talk him, he could at least do it in something other than Common so Virgil didn’t have to listen to it. 

It was already difficult enough just letting the Crav’on walk behind him; everything in Virgil screamed danger at even the smallest movement from the bulky alien. At a squat five foot, Roman wasn’t able to loom over Virgil, but his spike-like scales were all fully extended, making him look like a mix between an angry cat and a porcupine. His rigid, shell-like ears kept twitching, and frankly, Virgil was expecting to get one of those scales through his spine any minute now. 

Patton shifted eagerly, his feathers fluffing in a way that meant he wanted down, and Virgil swiftly crouched to allow the Ampen an easier trip to the ground. Both of the others twitched at the fast movement, and he barely repressed the urge to flinch in response. Showing his nerves would only make them more anxious. Conceal, don’t feel, ect.

As promised, he only had to duck his head slightly to get through the ship’s main entry door, and the hallways were luckily tall enough that he could pass through in his customary slouch. He couldn’t help but stare like an idiot as Patton led him through the ship’s passages, getting glimpses of other rooms full of the alien versions of furniture and books. Such normal, everyday objects, but for a while he’d never thought he’d get to see them again.

Roman and Logan accompanied them, as though the moment they let Patton out of their sight, he’d vanish. Though he suspected this in large had to do with the Ampen dragging around an entire Human, he could understand it. He’d also do just about anything to keep Patton safe, after all. He couldn’t blame them for it when he himself had a panic attack nearly every time the Ampen had left for a town to get supplies without him.

“Here!” Patton announced, guiding him into what was probably a bathroom. The Ampen leapt up onto the counter, pulling a white cylindrical container from one of the shelves. “We’ve got plenty of bandages for when Roman gets himself into trouble. Can you rinse that scratch off for me?”

Virgil nodded and spent a moment fiddling with the sink while Roman protested loudly, something about defending his honor and trouble finding him. Once he managed to get the water running, he carefully peeled his sleeve away from his cheek, wincing when the fibers pulled at the newly clotted blood. Logan appeared at his side and offered him a dark cloth towel, making him jump in surprise. “Uh, thanks.” 

After a fair amount of delicate washing and applying some basic disinfectant spray, Patton gestured for him to crouch. His eyes flickered to the other two, who were watching him with fascination and disgust, respectively. He… didn’t particularly want to be more exposed than he already was in front of them, Roman especially, but it was Patton asking, and what right did he have to deny Patton anything? He folded down into range of his little clawed hands, trying not to shiver at the cool air on the back of his neck.  

Patton carefully applied gauze and tape all along the injury, making him feel like an underdressed mummy. “There! They’re pretty shallow, so they should heal up in no time with your healing rate!” 

“Thanks, Pat.” He quickly rose back to a standing position, shoulders slouched.  

The Ampen beamed at him, and Virgil felt more than saw the other two aliens stiffen. He let the edge of his mouth curl up in response, but carefully didn’t show any teeth. Never let it be said that he didn’t learn.

“Patton.” Logan reached out with one of his upper arms, settling crystalline fingers onto Patton’s shoulder. The Ampen leaned into the touch with a melodic hum. “Perhaps we could settle in the living quarters. We have a lot to catch up on.”

Virgil glanced between them, remembering that they were Patton’s real friends, and they’d been looking for Patton for ages, and had somehow managed to track them down where a huge smuggling organization had failed. Patton no doubt missed them just as much, his antennae fluffed out the way they were when he was truly happy.

He wasn’t about to ruin their happy reunion by making the others uncomfortable or worse, afraid. He couldn’t do that to Patton, even if his chest ached with the certainty that his welcome would only be temporary. Maybe the less he intruded, the longer they’d let him stay?

He cleared his throat awkwardly, drawing their attention. “I’m tired. Is it okay if I…?” 

Patton frowned in worry and Roman sneered, but Logan was the one to speak, extra arms tucked behind his back politely. “Of course. We have a guest room, though it’s not particularly furnished at the moment.” 

Virgil’s shoulders dropped a little at the idea of having some space to himself to breathe. “Yeah, that works perfect. Thank you.” 

Once they reached the room, Patton was beckoning him down into a crouch again so he could check his head for ‘human illnesses’. Virgil chuckled quietly, still all-too-aware of the foreign eyes on him.

“No fever, Pat. I’m a little… too-much, right now.” He carefully moved Patton’s hand from his forehead and patted it like he was handling precious glass. “I’ll be okay. You said… they’re safe, yeah?” 

Patton nodded exuberantly. “I would trust them with my life, Vee.” He paused, antennae flicking back and forth in uncertainty. “I… can I come check in later?”

Virgil felt himself soften further, well aware of Patton’s nerves at separating. He felt the same way, after all. “Always.” 

Patton nodded again, gently bumping his head against the underside of Virgil’s chin before finally withdrawing. He watched as the three of them began to walk down the hall, Patton waving with a tiny hand and Roman shooting him a glare, and then ducked into the guest room, making sure to leave the sliding door partially open.

It was plain but had all the necessities, which was all Virgil really cared about, considering he’d been sleeping on the dirt ground for the past month. He checked the perimeter of the room carefully, exploring every corner and door. 

Rationally, he knew there shouldn’t be any danger hidden away here, but he was too used to making sure his and Patton’s campsite wouldn’t be found by any stray locals. Habits that kept one alive were hard to break.

Eventually the paranoid itch in the back of his mind was satisfied, and he crawled into the bed, which was more of a hollow egg-shape, stuffed full of mounds of soft bedding. It was easily large enough for him, thankfully, and he settled in to sleep. 

… 

Sleep didn’t come. 

Ridiculously enough, it was because he was too comfortable. The room was cool and quiet and dark, with no weather or local insects to worry about hurting Patton, but it was also wide and exposed to anyone who walked past his door. The bedding was soft and smooth, but clean enough that he felt bad for sprawling his dirty body across it. 

He wondered vaguely if he could maybe shower, and then dismissed the thought. He didn’t even know what the supplies or facilities were like on this ship, and he really didn’t want to be without his clothes until he was sure one of the others weren’t going to attack him.  

After what seemed like hours of tossing and turning, he gave in and dragged a thin blanket along to one of the odd circular storage cabinets in the room. It had a flat bottom, and it was hard and enclosed from any passerby, and that was enough for him. He had to fold his body slightly to fit in it fully, but he’d slept in worse conditions. Much worse. 

Within moments, his eyelids drooped, and he was out. 

He woke up strapped to a table, which was never a very pleasant way to wake. Above him, aliens in full-body protective suits muttered and babbled clinically in Common that was too complex for him to understand. He couldn’t struggle, stuck in his body looking out as he was stuck with needles and tubes. 

At least this time whatever drug they had used to paralyze him was keeping him from feeling the pain. 

His vision blurred in and out of focus, mind drifting as he watched bits and pieces of himself be cut away. 

Suddenly, all the harvesters seemed to vanish, stepping back out of sight. He wished he could turn his head to see them, make sure they weren’t doing anything without him knowing, but what difference did it make? It wasn’t like he could do anything about it. 

The horror of the situation only began to settle in fully when the Machine appeared at his side. His eyes locked onto its glossy surface immediately, his breaths coming quicker and quicker as gloved hands strapped cold bands around his forehead and wrists. 

They flipped him over, and even though all he could see was the table, he knew the moment they’d attached the barbed metallic strip to his back, right along his spinal cord. His nerves jumped, feeling jolting through them again, minutes too late. 

He had already been dumped in the arena, a room with cold white walls and windows set into the ceiling for harvesters to look down on him and whatever unlucky bastard they threw in with him today. 

His gaze was drawn back down to the door lifting on the other side of the chamber. Speak of the devil. 

Virgil rolled to his feet, ignoring the ache of his body to prepare himself. Almost all of the aliens they paired him with came out of the door ready to maul him, be it from anger, or drugs, or simple terror. He’d gotten enough scars trying to talk them down, enough to know the futility of it. 

When the door rose, however, he knew the face behind it. Patton? 

It was as though the past months had never happened, like they were meeting in that cell for the first time again. Patton shook and trembled, scrambling back against the door as it swung shut after him. Virgil felt something in him ache at the sight. 

He opened his mouth to reassure him, tried to kneel and reduce the difference in height between them, to look as nonthreatening as possible. Patton, I would never hurt you.

His body was silent. It took a step forward without Virgil’s input. And then another. And then he was suddenly there, inches away from the Ampen, hand reaching out for his throat and Patton let out a desperate wail, the one he’d only heard once, just before their escape—

Virgil jerked awake like he’d been electrocuted by a guard taser, choking on his own spit as he struggled to breathe. 

Just a dream. Just a dream. 

He tried to concentrate, reaching out with a feather-light (never careless, never harmful) touch for the reassuring, fluffy weight of his friend against him. All he found was air, and his fear levels shot up into panic attack territory. Where was Patton? Patton wasn’t there, Patton was gone, Patton was-

Patton was home. Patton was safely bundled into bed with his real family, the ones that didn’t have violent, horrifying nightmares. 

The memories of the past however many hours hit him, then, and his hands fell limp back to his sides. He shouldn’t be feeling this way, he knew, because Patton was safe and happy here, and that was what the Ampen deserved. That was what mattered, not his stupid little hurt feelings over the fact that Patton’s friends definitely hated him. He dragged a hand over his face tiredly, mouth sour with the knowledge that he was a bad friend. 

All intent to sleep gone, he attempted to reach for the cabinet door, only to find empty air. He blinked, squinting in the dark, and found it easily enough. He’d apparently kicked out in his nightmare, because his right foot was stuck in the detached cabinet door, driven through the white material like it was cheap plaster. Oops. 

This made it considerably more difficult to maneuver his body out of the cabinet, but he managed without driving the splintered door into his ankle too much. Still stung terribly when he pulled it off though, leaving several fresh new scrapes. Hopefully those wouldn’t get infected. 

The door to his temporary room was still partially open, thankfully, and he quietly nudged it further to slip out into the hallway. The lights had been dimmed partially, probably to simulate night and keep them on a routine sleep schedule. The smugglers hadn’t bothered with light cycles for his cell, leaving one corner of the room darkened at all times for whenever he got exhausted enough to sleep. It was a nice change.

Aimless beyond an urge to ascertain Patton’s safety, he wandered the ship near-silently, glancing at any open doors he passed and attempting to figure out what the purpose of them was from what little he could see in the rooms. There were helpful labels on some of the doors, but he still didn’t know how to read the written form of Common. Patton had offered to teach him, but there wasn’t much time to waste writing in the dirt while they were on the run.

Still slightly out of it from his nightmare, Virgil almost walked right into one of Roman’s sharp-edged scales before realizing he was there. He froze, breath catching in his lungs as he waited for the bulky alien to notice him there at his side. The alien turned his head slowly, the horns atop it forming a distinct crown silhouette. 

Roman’s red eyes were just light enough in color to be picked out from the rest of his face, and Virgil watched in disbelief as they passed over him without a second glance. The alien shuddered slightly, the movement making his scales rattle and shift, and then turned away to tromp back down the hall. 

Night vision, Virgil suddenly recalled, thinking about how often he’d had to guide Patton through terrain in the dark. He’d thought it might have just been an Ampen thing, but it looked like Roman’s species didn’t see into shadows too well either. He let out a slow breath, watching as Roman began his circuit anew. He could only assume that the area he was patrolling was where the others were resting. Of course Roman would be up to guard them from the human.

Guess he wouldn’t be able to check on Patton after all. 

Suddenly more tired than before, he waited until Roman’s back was turned and then bolted back the way he’d come on silent feet. 

Well. It wasn’t like he hadn’t spent sleepless nights alone before now. A few more on a new ship wouldn’t hurt, since he couldn’t imagine it would be long before he was back to sleeping out on hostile planets.

[happyk44]

Melinoe allowing Jason to go on a nightly excursion to the surface. She sees a bitterness in him, small but doable, and she's still angry at Olympus so she sends him out to wander with everyone else and takes him back before the sun rises.

She just doesn't take all of him back.

The bitterness remains. The unfettered anger he always ignored, never acknowledged, pretended didnt exist. Disappointment in his sister, in friends. Rage at his father, his step-mother.

Bitterness quickly turns to vengeance the longer he sits outside of the underworld without the rest of him to reconcile it away, square it back to recesses of his soul and mind he doesn't dwell in.

He stalks along the coast, dragging storms with every ghostly step until he's at Camp Jupiter. Lightning storms set fires. Rain floods the plains. A righteous ghostly justice curls an eerie hand along the camp and into New Rome as he continues on.

The Hunters wake up freezing with torn tents. Their dogs have run amok. Thalia's diadem is shattered next to her. There's a threat in the claw marks around her shredded tent. I could've killed you, they say. But you weren't worth my time.

The Wolf House burns to the ground again. Anger festers so violently in him by then that it's only by luck the children inside make it out alive. By the help of wolves that are quickly torn apart in front of their horrified little eyes. How dare you help them and not me, the murder speaks. I was younger than them. I needed love more.

New York sinks quickly into view. Olympus ratchets up the Empire State Building. By now, news of his focused attacks has spread quickly across the Greco-Roman communities. Camp Half-blood prepares for an attack that never comes. Why would it?

No one there tore him into nothing. No one there rebuilt him into a perfect weapon, only to throw him away when he was unneeded. They gave him a home, people who truly loved him. Sure, he was abandoned by the friends he made there too but it wasn't their fault. Piper only left because she felt Hera had forced into loving him. And Leo only left because he felt he needed to die to matter, a consequence of terrible homes filled with people who didn't care.

A consequence of the gods.

The smoke gathers attention first. The smell of burning stalls and plants. Nymphs scream and cry next. They bleed out on the ground before withering away into flowers and tiny shrubs. Things shatter and break as a storm builds around him. He's inhuman now, a creature more than a ghost. Vengeance, pain, anger.

His teeth drip blood, his nails elongated. His eyes are electric. The door slam open. The portraits shatter. The thrones crack. He's a storm, whirlwnding forward for the culprits in his suffering. And they can't stop him from burning it all to the ground.

After all, what can a god do to a ghost?

His brother stands in all his godly glory and Jason hates it. How quickly will he forget the lessons he learned? Immortality paints time as a game. He'll forget what matters.

It's only Hermes' speed that saves Apollo from pure disintegration. Sure, he'd reincarnate, but, oh it would be painful.

He's a warhead on a mission, plowing down hallways and throwing back gods like toys. Lightning illuminates throughout him like veins. His father stands with lightning bolt in hand. His step-mother, the one who dangled him like steak over the snapping maws of a dozen wolves then cried as though he mattered to her, is by his side with a frightening silver sword.

This is their fault, he thinks. They created me. Lightning explodes like a bursting pipe. This is all their fault.

He feels nothing and tastes only victory. Godly blood stains the walls. But even as they fail to touch him, they don't go down easily. He batters them away and they stand again, joined by family, joined by friends.

Jason never had that. Abandoned every time he got close. Died before he could try again.

He was a child.

How dare they act like they cared.

How dare they call him their son.

"Jason." The voice cuts through his blinding haze like a train to the chest. He spins, his won personal tornado. Hermes stands, battered and bruised, beside Nico, who regards him a pinched look and an outstretched hand. "You're not supposed to be here. You supposed to be at home."

He doesn't have a home. He never did. Thrown from place to place. Home is where you are loved.

He wasn't.

He turns back to the people who took that from his. His father for letting him be born into an unkind world, to an angry mother, and for letting him be thrown to the wolves. His step-mother for throwing him to them, for taking his life and playing with it like he was a toy.

He was not a toy.

He isn't.

He's a person.

"I know you are," Nico says. His voice is patient and quiet in the thundering winds. It sings loud and clear through Jason's ears. "You're a good person, Jason. They didn't deserve you then and they don't deserve you now. You were worth more than what they gave you."

He was.

"Please. Let me take you home."

He can't. He's not done. But something pulls across his chest and he screams. Nico is unharmed as Hermes pulls him to safety, burned from where Jason's blast hit him, but gripping tight to Nico's waist.

Jason could remember that. Holding Nico, frightened and stressed out, carrying him across the skies to Cupid, to Eros. To painful confessions and anger.

He remembers how it sank out of his sink in angry shadows and grappling skeletons. And how Eros batted him away with forceful pushy winds.

"Kind of like you right now."

He stills.

"You tried to hurt me."

It wasn't on purpose.

"I can't leave until I have you in my hands, Jason. And soon my father will be here to do it himself and if he ends up injured because of you, I don't know if I can forgive you for that."

Jason stares at him. Why would he hurt his uncle? The god has done nothing to him.

"You're angry." Nico steps outside of Hermes' grasp. "Angry people do not make the best decisions. When I was angry, I listened to a homicidal maniac trying to come back to life. I almost got people killed. People who didn't deserve to die just because I was upset." He holds out his hand as Jason starts to float down. The ground scuffs the tips of his toes. Nico's palm glows back him. There's something familiar about the pulsing blue orb in his hand. "You're not thinking with your full capacity. You're a good person. You forgive. It is your best and worst trait."

Jason blinks up at him.

"It's time to go home, Jason." He pauses and glances down at Nico's glowing palm. Then sinks his hand against it, exhaling a breathless sigh. Nico smiles sweetly and pulls him close. "Let's go home."

[vincent-frankenstein]

44: “If you die, I’m gonna kill you.” and/or 20: “You need to wake up because I can’t do this without you.” with either prinxiety or roceit? (if you have time or are board or something. But only if you want to! I'm sorry if this isn't a very good suggestion, I can send more. I just really like your work!)

anon i will fight you this suggestion just got me to vibe on a page for 2 hours and i CRIED this prompt is one of my favorite ones ive gotten so far 

also ty!!

Summary: Roman is locked away in the Imagination, and the Mindscape is crumbling. As the light sides panic, Deceit slips away to rescue his prince.

Warnings: uhhhhh Bad Feelings, panic, near death, transformation (dee becomes a snake for like 2 paragraphs), slightly suicidal thoughts but there’s a Happy Ending i promise

It was when the Imagination began to crumble that the sides truly knew something was wrong.

They hadn't seen Roman for weeks, but that wasn't that out of the ordinary. It was in his nature to vanish for weeks on end into his realm, pursuing only the grandest, most perfect dreams to present to Thomas upon his return. But then they woke one gray morning to find cracks splintering from his door, spiderwebbing further as the mindscape shook, and when they tried to summon Roman they got no response.

Deceit watched from the shadows as the light sides argued, peering at the growing cracks with narrowed eyes. It was quite obvious that Roman was in danger; the Imagination, or at least the side that he controlled, couldn't exist without his presence. If it was crumbling, so was he.

Which, really. That was hardly Deceit's problem. Danger followed Roman like a loyal mutt; it had only been a matter of time before he found himself in the sort of trouble he couldn't get out of. He had it coming. The light sides would work themselves out in time — cease their incessant bickering over who would go and save him, who would stay with Thomas, who would risk themselves and who would stay safe — and Roman would be rescued. Deceit had no role to play in such a thing; really, he had no obligation to play the hero, especially for one of them.

But he couldn't move. The cracks spiraled; the walls around them shook, drywall snowing down from the ceiling. Deceit stayed silent in his little bubble of shadows, glaring at the door. A familiar laugh echoed through his mind; a smile flashed at the forefront of his thoughts, always warm, always kind, even as they bickered and bantered and fought with no end in sight.

He willed his foot to take a step backward, and it stepped forward instead. He owed nothing to Roman. He had no reason to subscribe to the outdated ideal of 'heroism' to save the sort of heroic idiot he was supposed to be fighting against. With a litany of hissed swears, he wrinkled his nose, glancing over at the arguing light sides.

Virgil was demanding to be allowed to go in alone. Logan was not-so-calmly debating the merits and downfalls of each possible configuration of rescuers — whether they should all go, whether Virgil should be the one to stay with Thomas, whether Roman could fend for himself. Patton was sobbing, damn near inconsolable. It would take them hours to come to a conclusion, hours that Roman didn't have.

A side couldn't die — unless they were in a realm of the mindscape where their connection to Thomas was weakened. The Subconscious, the Darkscape, or... the Imagination. If something had incapacitated Roman to the point that the Imagination had begun to literally crumble, it was only a matter of time until each side felt that horrifying swoop in their stomachs, the sickening lurch that declared that a fellow side had died.

Roman was going to die.

Deceit didn't care. He didn't. He...

He swore again, hands curling into fists. Damn Roman to Hell and back for making Deceit care about him — and damn the remnants of a heart still floating around in Deceit's chest that allowed him to care in the first place. He was self-preservation, for lying's sake! He wasn't built to play the hero.

But that was exactly what he was going to do. He knew it, with a sinking certainty in his bones, a quiet resignation deep in his stomach. He couldn't walk away, not from this — not from Roman. Not when he knew his own complacency would cause them to lose Roman for good. With a heavy sigh — and one last hissed swear, for good measure — he slipped through the shadows and into the Imagination before the other sides could even notice he was there.

Rain poured from the inky-black swirling mess that Deceit assumed was meant to be the sky, great freezing droplets that lashed at his skin and sent shivers cascading through his bones. Lightning flashed in jagged bolts across the horizon. The wind smelled of ash and smoke as it hurried past; Deceit held his hat to keep it from flying off in the chaos.

The sky churned, a great circle of darkness centered above the cause of it all: a raised platform surrounded by blood-red roses. Cracks splintered from the platform, gouging monstrous ravines across the landscape. A figure laid on the platform — and above him, a hulking beast gave a hideous thunder-crackle roar, dark wings stretching high into the sky. A dragon. Of course.

Deceit allowed himself only a moment to curse Roman's name to the wind once more before he narrowed his eyes, assessing the situation. He had no hope of fighting the dragon on his own; Roman was the only one in the mindscape who knew how to fight, unless you counted Virgil, with his crude affinity for starting fistfights. And Roman was currently... unconscious, Deceit hoped. Sleeping atop a platform guarded by a dragon.

First order of business: wake Roman up. Then he could fight off the dragon — or, at the very least, get them both out of the Imagination intact. He scanned the landscape between himself and Roman, and then peered up at the dragon, thinking. He had to be careful about this.

A snap of his fingers sent a familiar dizzying lurch through his stomach, and he dropped to the ground, feeling his skin melt away to be replaced with iridescent black scales. He shook himself, sinking into his new form, and then slithered off towards Roman, testing the air with his tongue with every moment he moved. The dragon was a great mass of heat above them both; Roman was a beacon of warmth, waiting just ahead.

He slipped through the grass and onto the bottom of the platform, keeping close to the edge of the cracks so his darkness wouldn't stand out against the stark quartz. Ducking down against the side of the platform, he allowed the transformation to take hold again, and, shaking feeling back into his hands, he stood.

"Roman," he said, loud to be heard against the roar of the storm above. He gripped the edge of the platform and leaned over Roman, eyes narrowing. Roman's face was pale; his eyelids fluttered weakly, his mouth moved but made no sound, and he didn't wake. The roses had grown over his hands, over his legs, thorny vines twisting across his limbs to tie him down. Blood-red petals scattered across his skin.

Deceit glanced up at the dragon. It bellowed, slamming a claw into the ground and sending more cracks spiraling. It hadn't noticed him yet. "Roman," he said again, more forcefully this time. "Roman, you need to wake up."

The ground trembled. The dragon screamed and the noise filled Deceit's lungs, his head, twisting around his thoughts and squeezing until he could barely breathe. The horizon had begun to shrink; tendrils of land spiraled up into the air and shattered among the lightning. Roman's breathing weakened; his eyelids stopped fluttering.

Deceit shook his head. "No, no," he whispered, grabbing Roman's shoulders and shaking. Roman had to wake up — he had to, he couldn't leave, he couldn't die, he had to wake up. Deceit couldn't fight the dragon on his own. He couldn't leave the Imagination without Roman; the door had already vanished in a crackle of wood.

But it was more than that, more than a desire to save himself, more than a need to escape. Desperation clawed at his lungs and stole his breath away as he looked at Roman's pale face, searching the emptiness inside for a hint, a glimmer of the dazzling light he knew. He needed Roman to wake up because — because —

Because he couldn't fathom living in a world where he didn't exist.

"Wake up," he said, and his voice shattered. "You — you have to wake up. You need to wake up because I can't do this without you, I can't —"

The dragon bellowed in fear, stumbling back as the ground at its feet vanished. The wind howled; the rain lashed at Deceit's face and mixed with the tears there, carving a deluge down his cheeks. Pieces of the platform began to vanish, bit by broken bit, and Deceit felt himself vanishing too, torn apart by the wind, washed away by the rain, wiped clean by the thunder and lightning as it cleaved through his lungs —

He pushed the decay away, pushed the pull of the Subconscious out of his mind, pushed pushed pushed —

He pushed forward and his lips connected with a curl of lightning, a rumble of thunder-crackle warmth, and he pushed and pushed and the roses bloomed along Roman's skin, vines curling away, and —

A hand moved to cup the back of his head. Shaking fingers curled through his hair. He barely even registered them until the warmth on his lips pulled away, tearing a gasp from his throat.

"Deceit," Roman gasped, the color returning to his face. Fire raced across Deceit's cheeks as he pulled back, gentle raindrops slipping down his skin. He glanced up, searching for the dragon — but it was gone.

"You're alive," he said, with the sort of voice that only came about when a thousand different emotions warred fiercely on his tongue. Roman blinked, holding a hand to his head.

"I suppose I am," he said. "I... I don't remember what happened."

A lie. Deceit could taste it, sweet blackberries curling through the air. Roman's lies always tasted like blackberries. He leveled Roman with a look and Roman sighed, curling in on himself. He seemed so small.

"...I was venting," he said finally. "I just felt so... so useless! I wanted to play out a few scenarios, see what things would be like if I... wasn't here. I suppose the Imagination just took things a bit too far."

"Understatement of the century," Deceit said, pulling himself up onto the platform to sit beside Roman. "I totally don't understand how you feel."

Roman blinked. "Really? I figured you would be able to relate — ah, it doesn't matter. It's like —"

"No, no, I mean —" Deceit cut himself off, sighing through his nose. He forced truth into his words, ignoring the bitter taste that spread across his tongue. "I get it. I've wondered myself how much better off everyone would be if I wasn't here."

"We wouldn't be better off at all!" Roman said. "Sure, you've made some mistakes, and you are a sassy bitch at times, but Thomas needs you!"

"Wow, really?" Deceit settled a hand against his chest, gasping in mock-surprise. "My own feelings of inadequacy don't automatically mean that I shouldn't exist? What a shocking revelation!"

Roman laughed quietly. "Touche," he said, his voice soft. "But what about the others?"

Deceit rolled his eyes. "Those idiots are outside as we speak, probably losing their minds over the fact that your door vanished. Even Logan was panicking. It was quite the sight."

"Even Logan?" Roman repeated, drawing his legs up onto the platform to pull his knees into his chest. "... You're serious?"

"Would you like me to summon one of those insufferable neckties he wears to prove it to you?" Deceit asked, raising an eyebrow. "Your existence matters. They care about you a great deal more than you think."

Roman nodded, looking away. "Right," he said, his voice just barely above a whisper. "And... I suppose you do, too?"

Deceit blinked, face scrunching in confusion as Roman turned to him with a small, teasing smile.

"You can't do this without me, right? Perhaps I misheard," Roman said, with the sort of smile that Deceit would expect more from Remus. Flames erupted across his face and he turned away, sneering.

"I have no idea what you're talking about."

"Sure you don't," Roman said, with a very audible wink. A moment later, he nudged up against Deceit's arm, pressing against him for a moment before pulling away. "I can't do this without you, either."

"That's —" Deceit opened and closed his mouth several times, but the only sound he could manage was a strangled squawk. Roman laughed and the sound only made Deceit struggle harder, hands twisting together in his lap as his face scrunched. "That hardly — it doesn't — you —"

Roman laughed, and pushed their lips together again.

[bonesthebeloved]

The absence of a necessity

This story is based on THIS POST by @quietrainfan

Summary: When Thomas stops lying altogether, Deceit and the other dark sides are quick to notice the effects. But it’s only made clear what kind of effect it truly has when it’s already too late...

Characters: Deceit, Remus, Apathy, Depression, Wrath, Roman, Patton (only mentioned), Logan, Virgil (only mentioned), Thomas

Word count: 7112 words

Trigger warning (Spoilers): Crying, screaming, Depressive behaviour, insanity, aggression, swearing, character ‘death’, food mention. (If I missed any warnings please let me know and I will add them)

-

The decision on the matter had been made without Deceit present and so he hadn’t been made aware of it until Remus stopped by his room two days later to catch up and get away from the others a bit.

They had sat and drunk tea. Deceit waving his hand to summon them some sweets as he found that he came up emptyhanded. He tried again. Nothing. And again. Nothing.

Once he started waving his hand around for the fifth time his friend caught on and caught his wrist. Stopping him from trying again. “Maybe you’re just tired, Dee. Don’t worry I’ll do it.”

A single snap and the table was piled with baked goods and sweets. And as Remus quickly grabbed hold of a creme-filled doughnut, Deceit stared at his hands. Wondering what was going on.

-

That same evening Remus came to his door for the second time that day. Unusual in and on itself. But the fact that he had Wrath with him really took the cake.

“What do I own the pleasure to?” Deceit said. curiosity peaking as he saw Wrath huff in anger. Fists bawling. Something was wrong. They had worked on his temper and it had been weeks since he had become properly mad. He looked like he was fuming.

So Deceit asked again. Wrath wouldn’t dare lie. Knowing full well Deceit would be able to sense it if he did.

So he told he truth; “Thomas and Patton made a deal for Thomas to not lie anymore.”

Ah. That explains his powers stuttering earlier that day.

“Hmm. Not surprising,” he started. Voice calm and even. Watching how the calming tone had an immediate effect on the other. “Seeing as Patton seems to believe that Thomas is automatically a bad person if Thomas isn’t perfect in every way shape or form. It’s impressive that he’s managed to keep that promise for long enough for me to see the effects but I doubt this little deal will last. He’s only human after all.”

Wrath looked at him doubtfully. While Remus simply looks worried. “What if he does keep the promise though Dee? What happens to a side when their functions don’t exist anymore?”

Deceit waved his worries away hurriedly. Explaining that nothing would happen to him. He was a base function in every human. Though the little seed of worry that Remus’ remark had planted sprouted and steadily grew into a little plant in the hours he spends alone in his room after that interaction. Failing to get to sleep.

-

Deceit spends a lot of his time helping and accompanying the other ‘dark sides’ (He despised the term Roman had come up with but they had decided to make it their own.)  Whether it is sitting next to them while they rambled. Reading and lazily running his fingers through their hair as they lay in his lap or making them dinner; Deceit was always there for them. Even Depression had warmed up to him after a while. Hanging around Apathy a lot. Finding his dismissive attitude comforting. They often sat in the living room, talking about nothing in particular or the most pressing questions one could have into the early morning.

Yes, Deceit was always there for them. Up until the day he wasn’t.

-

Depression had meant to go and knock on Deceit’s door. Informing him that they had made cookies and offering him to come and have some.

The snake had been awfully patient with him lately. Wintertime was always harder for the depressive side to deal with. The downward spiral a lot of people went through was twice as hard for the aspect representing said downwards spiral. He’d hidden away in his room for half a day when Deceit had come knocking.

He’d prodded him out of the bed with a mixture of gentle encouragement and mockery, making him just spiteful enough to get up to show Deceit that ‘yes I can stand up what about it?’

They’d sat on the floor and eaten the noodles the lying trait had summoned. Not talking. Simply sitting in each others company. It had helped, though depression had still not quite figured out how. Once he started to loosen up a bit Deceit had gotten up. Asking him very casually to come with him to the imagination to help out with a task that he totally needed help with.

At the end of the day, Depression had laughed so hard his stomach had started hurting and they had eaten strawberries in the flowerbeds. The sad feeling wasn’t completely gone of course. It never really was. But Deceit had made it bearable. And that’s more than he could ask for.

So here Depression was. Walking down the hall and stopping in front of Deceit’s door. That is, he would have.

If the door had been there.

He stared at the blank wall. And then looked further down the hall. Up until he had reached the end of it.

Deceit’s door had disappeared.

-

It had been one week after Thomas had made the deal with Patton when Deceit found he couldn’t leave his room anymore due to the very simple fact of there no longer being a door.

His powers had become too weak for him to be able to sink down, he had been using the doors and hallways of the mindscape as an alternative for a good three days now.

And now he couldn’t leave.

He ran to his desk and picked up his phone. Texting Wrath to ask him to come to get him from his room. Trying to stop his hands from shaking as he stared down at the clawed fingers. The small trail of scales peeking out from under the sweater he was wearing as he waited for Remus to text him back.

The phone vibrated as a video call came in. Deceit accepting it quickly. Almost crying out in relief as he saw the faces of Remus and Wrath. Pressed together to both fit into the screen.

“Hey Double D’s! So uh. Did you relocate your room again cuz I can’t fucking find it, man? Depression almost had a breakdown over it when he came to bring you cookies just now.”

Ah. So the door to get in was gone too.

“I - Well I actually magicked my room away into the imagination!” He lied through his teeth. Flashing his sweetest and fakest of grins. Normally, his good friend wouldn’t have bought into the lie so easily. But the camera was pixelated and his voice came through with a weird echo. A perfect combination for when one wanted to start lying.

After all. His family shouldn’t worry just because of something so small. It would all sort itself out soon, he was sure of it.

“I thought I’d take a little vacation! I asked you to look for my room to see if the door was gone on your side as well but I can see that it is so no worries! “ “Okay... Is it... can we call you every now and again while you’re there? For Uhm...Just to see how you’re doing. You know how fidgety dee gets when you’re gone for too long. Even Apathy gets antsy ya know.”

Deceit’s smile softened when he heard said side shout a ‘No I don’t motherfucker!’ Ah, what a bunch of idiots. He’d die for them in an instance.

“That’s alright Remus. Tell Depression I’m doing alright okay? Oh and that I said hi. See you soon!”

And the call ended. Deceit sat back down on his bed slowly. Looking down at his hands and concentrating. Imagining the simple object he wanted to summon. A pen. A simple pen was all he wanted.

Nothing.

Maybe this whole not lying thing was more serious than he had first thought.

-

‘Calling every now and then’ turned out to mean at least two times a day.

Remus wasn’t able to shake the feeling that something was wrong. And, as it calmed down both Wrath and Depression, he didn’t mind.

Deceit wasn’t complaining either. He loved seeing the four of them all piled on the couch or floor or wherever they were to talk to him. Asking how he was. When he was coming back. If he had gone ice-skating in the colder part of the imagination yet. Something was wrong. But Remus knew Deceit would rather be shot in the foot than admit that particular fact. Though he saw through him.

The lying trait enjoyed their talks. Always sat on his bed or at the kitchen table in his room when they called. The familiarity of it working as a comfort to all of them.

In the second week of his ‘vacation’, they only saw him in bed. Not even walking around or getting up to get water or go to the bathroom even if they called for hours.

Even Apathy had gotten worried now. Very subtly asking him when he was returning as depression sat a bit further back. shifting nervously as they listened to Deceit’s story about what happened in the woods that day.

He’d told the same story three days in a row now. They knew he was lying. Wrath clenched his jaw every time Deceit answered their call and looked more tired and beat down than on their last one.

Whatever was happening to him was getting worse and he was too stubborn to admit it.

But surely. If Deceit wasn’t telling them it couldn’t be that bad. Could it?

-

It was, in fact, that bad.

He decided to tell them the truth about what was going on when they hit one month of him not being able to leave his room.

The connection had started to become worse and worse with each call and he feared he might not be able to call them very soon, so he wanted to do this now.

“Hey, dee!” “Hey bro.” “Hi.” “Hello.” came the greetings from the others.

Deceit smiled. Gathering what little energy he had to will himself to speak. His tongue felt heavy in his mouth as if he’d been heavily sedated.

“Hello, you four. I want’d t’tell you sometin. ‘m not on vacation.” He hated how his speech was slurred. He really was losing all his energy. God this sucked.

“Okay... Came Apathy’s response. He sounded unsure. They had known something was up. That Deceit was certain of. The barely-there and yet worryingly present scared undertone in that single word made a shiver run down Deceit’s spine. They weren’t supposed to be scared. Not for his wellbeing, not for anyone. He wanted them to be happy and smile and laugh whenever they could.

“Where are you then? I’m assuming you’re not in the imagination either then?”

Deceit nodded; Pulling a face at how it made his head spin. “v’been in my room. No doors so m not getting out. Thom’s isn’t lying n’ more so ‘mnot needed.” He slurred. Hands moving around. A pathetic copy of his usually exaggerated movements.

He was losing energy fast. This talk wouldn’t last very long.

“I’m... I’m sure Thomas will lie again soon. It’s hard for humans to not lie at all right? Y- you’ll be back in no- time right? right dee?” But Deceit had run out of energy. Head lolling to the side. His bowler hat tumbling off and revealing slightly greasy, uncombed hair.

“’s gonna be fine. Your'll gon’ be fine... I love you all...”

He pressed the button to end the call. Cutting of the four sides that were about to respond and letting his phone fall out of his hand.

It fell to the floor. The screen cracking with a loud noise.

Deceit hadn’t heard it anymore. Having fallen unconscious mere moments after feeling it slip out of his grasp.

-

The aftermath of the phonecall was messy.

Wrath, who had been holding the phone had stared at it for several long seconds before letting out a frustrated scream and throwing it against the wall where it smacked against it and slid down with a thud.

The noise had startled Depression out of his staring contest with the empty space in front of him. Looking at the smashed phone with dull eyes before walking out. As soon as he closed the door behind him they could hear the soft sniffs turning into full-on sobs as he ran to his room.

Apathy had slowly sat down on the couch again. Holding the book he had been reading - a copy of moby dick. The scribbled note on the first page showcasing that it had been a gift from Deceit- close to his chest as he stared into nothingness.

Remus was laughing. He wasn’t sure why. There was nothing that could be considered funny in this case. Nothing that could be even mildly amusing. And still, he was laughing. A few moments after he’d willed himself to stop he realised why. As tears started falling as soon as his body had stopped pushing out laughter.

“He isn’t gone.” He mumbled. Wrath flinching at the voice and growled at him before going to the kitchen, shoving a plate, that was sitting on the counter innocently, of it to watch it smash to bits on the floor.

“He’s fine he’s not gone. He’ll come back he's fine he’s not gone he’s not gone he’snotgonenotgonenotgonenot-”

The halls of their wing of the mind palace were quiet that night. The only noise disturbing the silence where the quiet wails coming from Depression’s room and the occasional shout from Remus’. The Duke startling awake due to another nightmare.

-

You only realise you love someone when they’re gone.

That statement was bullshit to Wrath. They had realised just fine when Deceit had still been there with them.

They’d tried to call him without getting a response for three days in a row now.

Apathy kept trying. Wrath knew that he was gone already. He could feel it. It pissed him off to no end.

Deceit had taught him to deal with the anger. How to release the tension in a non-violent way. How to fit in with their bunch of misfits and how to build himself a home in the mids of them, How to feel like a part of their little family.

But Deceit was dead so fuck that.

He’d smashed most of their mugs; the distant and more recent memories of Dee, sitting at their kitchen counter with one of the mugs in hand. Reading whatever it was that he’d been reading that time, was offending to him.

Deceit was gone. He didn’t need reminders of all of those good times because they were tainted now. Twisted into something horrible. Something sad.

When two months without his friend had passed Wrath had gone to Thomas. Waving away his surprise and disgust in favour of asking him, rather rudely, to lie.

“Just fucking lie. Say the sky is purple for all I care. You’re not taking my friend away from me” “And why would I listen to a dark side huh? You probably have some evil scheme involving me lying. So the answer is no. No, I won’t.”

Wrath could practically feel Patton his eyes burning into the back of his neck but he didn’t care. He took a deep breath. Trying to remember everything Deceit had taught him about calming his temper before he started again. Properly begging now.

“Thomas please. I need you to lie. I’ll make sure I won’t bother you after this. None of us will. We’ll stay inside the mind palace from now on just please lie for me just once. Even a little one is fine I just-” He faltered, angrily scoffing at the tears that had gathered in the corners of his eyes. “-I... We need him back. He’s our friend he- he keeps us in check Thomas please I-”

“NO! I won’t do it stop asking! Lying is bad!”

When Apathy walked into the kitchen later that day he would find every mug, every plate every glass cup smashed to pieces on the tiled floor. Wrath sitting on the counter, slowly rotating a cracked mug between his fingers.

“They were all tainted.” Wrath said quietly without looking up from the mug. “All of them stained with his memories.”

-

Apathy hadn’t spoken a single word since their last successful phonecall with their friend. Simply sitting on the couch in their living room at first. Moving to his own room shortly after Wrath had destroyed all their mugs and plates.

He was rather fond of reading. Had found it calming. For that reason and that reason alone, was the only place in his room that he cared for and actually kept clean the bookshelf

It took up the entire right wall of his room. Filled to the brink with books, spanning from adventure to poetry. From horror to biographies he had them all. Logan would turn green with envy if he were to see the impressive collection.

In the following weeks though, more than half of the bookshelf began collecting dust. Books falling off the shelf when he accidentally bumped against it were left laying on top of the mountains of unfolded clothing and empty water bottles which their owner cared too little to clean up.

Only about a third of the books were kept neat and dustfree. Divided into their own little section in the bookcase sat all the books Deceit had given him. Books on fantasy and the art of deception. On philosophers and rangers running through the woods to save the day.

Apathy re-read all of them in the weeks to follow that final phone call. Only getting up from where had sat down to get the occasional bit of food. Not speaking. Not looking at the others when they tried to get his attention. Simply reading the words. Fingers shakily running over the little notes Deceit had left on the first page of every book.

All of them were unique in their own right. Sometimes it told him that it would be alright. The note reminding him of Deceit handing him the book when he was feeling down in an attempt to cheer him up.

Sometimes they said happy birthday or merry Christmas.

Sometimes there was a pun based on the content scribbled there which he would only understand once he had read it.

Sometimes it was a quick ‘I’m here for you.’

The problem with that last one was though, that he wasn’t.

Deceit wasn’t here for him. Wasn’t here at all and Apathy didn’t want to care. He shouldn’t really. It was in the job description after all. But he did. And it hurt. And when he was done with the last book he started over again. And he hadn’t talked in nearly four months now. And the hurt hadn’t stopped. And in most of the books, the first page was stained with silent tears. Sometimes smudging the words that were written there.

When the four-month mark rolled around and he opened one of the books to see that he wasn’t able to see the little smiley-face Deceit had scribbled under the note due to the teardrops that had fallen on it, Apathy snapped the book shut and sunk down.

Thomas let out a scream when the dark side popped up. Book still held pressed against his chest and hair uncombed and greasy.

“T-homas” His voice sounded like he’d swallowed an entire bag of sand. Croaky and dry and his throat burned with each syllable he pushed out.

But he kept going. This was the only thing he truly cared for and damn him if he gave up now.

“Lie.” “Who are you?!” “Apathy, nice to meet you. Now tell a lie.” “Tell a- you’re here because of that as well? Well, I told the other one-” “Wrath.” “-Yes. I told Wrath that I won’t already. Lying is wrong. I’m not a bad person therefore I will not lie.”

Apathy pinched the bridge of his nose in irritation. Jesus Christ Patton had really burned it into their host’s brain huh?

“Just say you like carrots or some shit like that I don't care. It won’t make you a bad person but taking away our friend would. Now do us all a favour and just tell a fucking lie!”

His volume had risen as he ended his rant. He was nearly shouting now and it had an effect. Thomas took a step back. Eyes widened and hands slightly rising up in a weak effort to protect himself.

Now Apathy wouldn’t hurt him. That would just be plain stupid. Thomas was their creator after all and they all wanted what was best for him. But Thomas didn’t know that. And neither did Roman when he popped in, sword drawn, to ensure the safety of their host.

Apathy scoffed at him and rolled his eyes as the prince stepped in front of Thomas. Actively shielding him from the ‘dark side’.

“Get out of here you foul fiend of I will attack.” “Come on then. I’m not leaving until I get my friend back.”

He returned to his room completely unharmed. Though cradling a torn-up book as tears streamed down his face. The cover was torn off, some pages completely missing and, worst of all, the note on the first page was ripped in half and crumpled up until the point of attempting to read it becoming impossible.

Apathy didn’t leave his room at all after that. The other’s not hearing a peep and just having to assume that he was still alive in there. Reading those books over and over again. Fingers brushing over the notes that slowly became unreadable. Too worn and too stained to be deciphered.

-

Depression, much like Apathy, had barely left his room since their final phone call had ended. The only times when he did leave the little safe haven he had made for himself happened when Remus was able to coax him out of it to come and eat dinner with him.

Remus had been halfheartedly trying to take over the caring role in their little group of misfits. Though the attempts had lessened more and more until, after they hit month 5, they had completely seized to exist. Leaving depression to his own devices. Stowed away in his room.

The others had grown used to the sobs that echoed through the hallways nearly every night as he cried and cried until he ran out of tears or passed out from exhaustion. Clinging onto the capelet Deceit had once given him under the pretends of it being old and him needing to get a new one anyway.

It had quickly become a comfort blanket for him and he’d suspected that this had been what Deceit had intended though he hadn’t brought it up. Simply happy that his friend had given it to him.

Because that’s what they were. Friends. It had taken Depression a long time to come to terms with believing them to actually be friends. But Deceit had helped. He’d stayed with him when he couldn’t get out of bed because the world was too much and he felt too small. And he’d sat with him on the kitchen counter at 3 in the morning when Depression had told him that he couldn’t feel. And he’d made him breakfast at 2 in the afternoon because everything felt fake and he couldn’t seem to get himself back into his body.

And he’d realised that he had friends (four of them, to be exact) when Virgil had left them and they had all sat on the couch and cried. And he’d realised he had a family when Deceit had come into his room holding a collar with the Scooby-Doo logo on it and Virgil’s old jacket because he knew that it was hard to move on and that familiarity, though it hurt, would help. And Deceit had told him that, even though it was his job description, that he would not lie to him when Depression had asked if it really was the original jacket or if Deceit was simply saying that to make it have meaning.

And he realised that now that was all gone.

Because Deceit was gone and their family was falling apart with him.

And all he could do was cry, holding the caplet close as he stared at his ceiling at 3 am. Wondering why Deceit wasn’t there to invite him to come to sit on the kitchen counter. Knuckles turning white around the smooth fabric of the caplet as he held it even tighter.

The ripping of one of the seams in the said fabric when they neared the 6-month mark was what had made him leave his room. Tear tracks carved into his cheeks. Nose running and red. Eyes puffy and caplet wrapped around his shoulders like a trauma blanket as he rose up.

Thomas had the decency to look concerned when he saw the state this unknown side was in. Though the outstretched hand fell to his side again when he spotted the caplet and realised why this new part of him was even here.

“Give him back to us.” “I’m not going to start lying again. I’m sorry but I can’t. I’m not a ba-” “Give. Him. Back.”

This time, though Thomas looked taken aback, Roman didn’t pop up to save the day. Instead, the man seemed to steel himself. Straightening his back and looking directly at the side in front of him. Trying to make eye contact. Something Depression was trying to avoid doing at all costs.

“I want my family back Thomas. Just one lie. We will stop bothering you after this just-” “One of the others said the same. I’m sorry but I can’t do that. Maybe you should just try to move on.”

And that hurt. Depression stared at him, looking into his eyes for the first time and Thomas found he suddenly knew exactly how much it hurt.

It only lasted a couple of seconds before the side sunk down again. Leaving Thomas with tears in his eyes and a baffled expression painted onto his face.

Depression passed Remus in the hallway on his way back to his room. Looking at his friend with dull grey eyes. Expression empty. Feeling like his body didn’t quite belong to him.

“He said we should move on,” he repeated the words of their host dully as he walked passed Remus. Entering his room and staring at his bed from the entryway. He wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

The door fell shut behind him with a loud click.

-

Remus stood in the hallway on the spot Depression had left him. Half-empty cookie-jar in hand. Hand partly inside of it.

Slowly. After having stared at the now-closed door for several long seconds, he began moving towards the living room again. humming softly to himself as he put one of the cookies in his mouth. Scratching at the back of his neck as he looked around the mess of a living room.

Remus was...not doing too well. After he and Roman had split it had become harder and harder for him to keep the insanity from creeping into his mind. Clouding his judgment.

He didn’t mean to be destructive. He wanted to be kind and caring for his friends. Wanted to have fun and make breakfast. But acting normal became abnormal on some days. And being violent and cruel no longer seemed like a bad idea when he was in that state.

Deceit had helped him control it. They had found a way for him to express himself without the insanity taking hold of his actions. He’d learned to reach out sooner rather than when he was just on the brink. Had learned that being vulnerable isn’t bad when with the right people. Learned that his family will always try and get him off that brink.

They had become close friends quickly after Deceit had agreed to Remus living with him in the other wing of the mind-palace. Late-night talks about philosophy and if it’s morally right to like rubber ducks if one were afraid of the real ones. Marathons of shows neither of them likes as much as they were making the other belief and movies that they both liked a whole lot but tried to be cool about.

Late-night sleepovers when Remus had that one nightmare about being torn in half and feeling the emptiness all around him. Late-night cuddles in the coldest of winter nights when ice formed on Deceit’s lips and his eyelashes had frost on them because Deceit was cold-blooded and none of them had the power to summon a heater or make fire appear back then so they made due.

Deceit was his brother (maybe even more so than Roman these days) and they kept each other in check. Bickering like children over the smallest things but able to sit and have a friendly conversation at the end of the day still. And Deceit wouldn’t be caught dead admitting to it but Remus knew that he saw them as best friends. Because Remus did too.

Because Remus was the only one allowed to see Deceit when he felt down. Allowed to know about his flaws and shortcomings. Remus was the one that helped Deceit overcome the lies he told himself. The one that got to comfort him when he cried because sometimes, being the strong one, the one everybody could count on, was too heavy of a weight to bear. Remus was the one who was with him when he had a breakdown because his scales were spreading and ‘what if they reach my face, Remus? What if I turn into a monster?’ Remus was the one comforting him when the first few appeared on his cheek. “It suits you dee. You’ll look badass with them there.”

Remus was the one who, now that his primary support system was gone, was slowly going insane.

His nightmares had started up again.

They’d been gone for nearly a year now and here they were. At first, it was simply the old once: The split. The others rejecting him. Blaming him. But then they changed.

And suddenly he saw Deceit fade away. Trying to run to him but never quite catching up. Every night it replayed a handful of times. Each time showing a different way as to how his friend would disappear.

They got worse as time went by and soon he had to watch as Deceit died in the most gruesome and horrific ways. Each time just too late to come to his aid. Each time left to cradle his now still body in his arms.

As sleep was now a feared experience he simply didn’t do it anymore. In turn, speeding up the process of his insanity creeping into his mind. Into his stare.

He hummed and sung all day long. This was only unusual due to the fact of the current situation not at all being a cheerful one. He walked around in his underwear most of the time. Simply sitting on the couch and eating whatever was closest. This included some fruits, part of a throw pillow and some pizza that he had forgotten to put in the refrigerator from two weeks ago.

He wasn’t happy. It was hard to feel even the smallest amount of joy these days and this irritated him further. No, he wasn’t happy. Wasn’t sure if he’d ever feel happy again. But he didn’t give up on his friends.

Not for the first four months at least.

After that, it became...more difficult to listen to them when all he could think of was what would happen if he were to actually stab them in the foot. Would the scream? Cry? Yell at him? The intrusive thoughts that usually were low humming background noise in the back of his mind had begun clouding his judgement. Now prominent and shouting and waving instead of the low-volume mumble they usually represented.  Always there. Never turned off or decreasing in volume.

He’d cut the eyes out of all of his posters because he felt like they were watching him. He stood in front of the mirror just staring at himself for over two hours. Contemplating whether or not he should cut a smile into his face so he could show everybody how well he was doing before coming to the conclusion that it would simply be a ripoff of Heath Ledger’s Joker and that wouldn’t stand.

He cut the ears off of all his stuffed animals so they wouldn’t hear him scream anymore. He shaved all his hair off and then magicked it back on three times in a row.

Remus was taken by his insanity for the first time in years, singing loudly at the top of his lungs as he threw the clothes stored away in his closet on his bed to burn them later. Wanting to see if any of the colourings would colour the flame too. And suddenly something fell on the floor with the rest of the stuff he’d pulled down with it.

A small grey octopus plushy. The insides of the tentacles and the spots on various places of its body a swampy green colour. It was obvious that the thing had been through a lot; Various stitches, the difference in technique and colour of the thread showing that they were all done on separate times. In separate years even. One of its eyes had fallen off some 5 years ago and they hadn’t bothered to replace it. Remus deciding that a big stitched cross was a cool replacement for the eye that was lost.

The plushy had been given to him by Deceit on his first birthday as an individual.

God they’d known each other for so long.

And slowly, Remus began to feel his strength returning. Mentally pushing away most of the insanity and willing away the crazy in his eyes before he sunk down. Not caring about the tears in his eyes. Not caring about the fact that he was only wearing boxers and a big sleep shirt. Not caring when he noticed he’d summoned his mace to lean on because he felt like he might double over with how much his heart was hurting.

Not caring that, as soon as he popped up and Thomas let out a scream, Logan popped up aswell. Fire in his eyes as he tried to force Remus back down with just his stare.

But not this time. He had popped up because he wanted his friend back and wasn’t leaving until Deceit was here and giving him one of his six-armed, bone-crushing hugs like he was supposed to do when Remus felt down.

“I want my friend back Thomathy.” “Remus. Sink down again you’re clearly in a state.” “Shut it walking Wikipedia, I know I’m batshit crazy right now but I don’t care. Give me-” He looked at Thomas again. Now leaning forward on the mace. “my friend back.”

“What is he even talking about Thomas?” “Well... Patton and I-” “They killed Deceit!” “We didn’t! I just... stopped lying.” “And with that, you killed my best friend. Now. You best start lying Sanders or we’ll find out just how much impact a side can have on you.” “Do not threaten Thomas or I will be forced to take action.” “But- buT HE KILLED HIM LOGAN. HE KILLED MY BEST FRIEND!” “And we’re going to bring him back Remus.” “No, we’re not.”

Both Remus and Logan whipped around. Both staring at Thomas in silence. Waiting for him to continue. Logan had one eyebrow raised. Remus was shaking with repressed tears. Repressed anger. Repressed grief. The tentacles that he usually kept hidden slowly extended from his back.

“I’m not going to start lying again, Logan. It’s not right.” “It is not wrong to lie. Nobody is always ho-” “But I want to be!” “You can’t. It’s not healthy and some would argue not morally right either. Must I remind you of the dilemma we went over where somebody asks for your friend whereabouts to-” “Shut up!”

Remus hadn’t meant to yell. But now that he had he felt as if it had been the right thing. He was standing up straight now. Mace firmly placed on the ground in front of him. Eight long, inky black tentacles extending from between his shoulder blades. Eyes glowing green.

He’d stood on the edge again. And this time he had fallen over it.

“Tell a lie, Thomas. Final warning.” “Remus I don’t think this-” “This isn’t about you Logan. I am not losing my best friend. Not again.” “Remus calm down. This isn’t solving anything.” “I don’t care anymore. I just waNT MY FRIEND BACK!”

He was screaming now. Voice thick with emotion and something else. Something foul and evil that pushed its way out from deep within him. He was crying too. Finally. The tears were endlessly falling. No sign of stopping any time soon after being forced down for such a long time.

“I’m not doing it. Lying is wrong!” “Thomas. It really is in your best interest if you-” “I’m not doing it! We don’t need him anyway!”

-

His eyes snapped open. Shooting up from where he was laying in his bed. He hadn’t remembered closing them.

-

“I don’t need him!”

-

He couldn’t remember laying down. Couldn’t remember going to sleep or waking up or where he had been for the last 8 months.

-

“He doesn’t help me!”

-

All he knew was that he could feel his body again and that he could move a bit.

-

“We’re better of without him!”

-

And that somebody was lying.

-

Remus his whole being seemed to vibrate with hurt, anger, loss. All of it barely contained beneath the surface. Only a single spark needed to set off the bomb.

And it was about to explode. The fuse had almost reached the gunpowder. The sparks seconds away from blowing him up and taking them all down with him.

And then somebody threw water over the fuse.

Because there stood Deceit. Skin pale and eyes hollow. Hat missing and caplet ruffled beyond repair. No gloves and sleeves rolled up showing off his scales. Leaning on the wall behind him.

But there stood Deceit.

And Remus wasn’t sure if he should laugh or cry when the tired eyes focused on him and the smallest and most broken of smiles twitched at the snakes' lips. And he had made his decision when he practically threw himself at his friend. A soft ‘oof’ escaping him when Remus made an impact with his body.

And Thomas looked on. Confusion was written all over his face as Logan simply smiled and nodded before silently sinking down.

“Why are you here?”

Deceit looked up at his host. Carefully peeling himself away from Remus. Letting the creative trait keep an arm wrapped around him for comfort and because he needed the support to stand upright.

“Why wasn’t I? Is the question that is most pressing here I think.” “Because... Because lying is wrong. You are wrong.”

Deceit gave a nod. Though felt his strength returning slightly as his host told the lie.

“I might be wrong. But I believe that the hassle my absence had caused is worse than whatever discomfort I might cause you.” Remus let out a wet chuckle. Squeezing Deceit’s arm for a moment. Trying to convince himself that this was real. That he was back.

“Now excuse me, but I believe I have some business to attend to. I suggest you talk about it with your precious ‘light sides’.  I’m sure Roman, Logan and Virgil will enjoy hearing about the little deal you and Patton made behind their backs.

And with that, he and Remus sunk down. Leaving Thomas to stand alone in the middle of his living room.

-

Deceit was delighted to find that he had enough of his powers back to make both him and Remus sink down and pop up in their shared living room.

The livingroom that, for the past 8 months, had not seen a single broom or vacuum cleaner.

“What in the world happened here?” “Well. We thought you up and died, for starters.” Apathy said from his place on the couch. He sounded cool and uncaring. Though when he closed his book Deceit saw how his hands were trembling. Fingers gently running over the first page before it was put aside and he stood up.

“Can I-...? “ “No of course not. Come here you big sap.”

This hug was gentler. Apathy held onto him as if scared he might break. Deceit didn’t mention the tears he felt seeping into his dress-shirt. Didn’t mention the way he felt Apathy’s shoulders shake.

“...Dee?”

He looked up then. Making sure to not change his hold on the crying side in his arms as he did so. Wrath stood in the doorframe leading to the hallway. One hand by his side. The other gripping the doorknob so tight Deceit thought it might break.

“Hello, Wrath.” “I-... Where the fuck have you been?”

Deceit laughed at that. Taking one of his arms from Apathy’s back and extending it towards Wrath. A silent invite to join the hug.

Wrath stood frozen in the doorway for several seconds before very slowly releasing the doorknob from his death grip and walking over to the other two sides. Arms wrapping around the both of them before carefully tightening his grip.

“I’ll kill you for making us worry like that. Asshole.” “I know bud. I know.”

It only took a couple more seconds and Remus had joined them too. The four of them holding onto each other for several minutes. Having missed human contact. Having missed each other. Missed that essential link, the essential person that had kept them together.

There was still a link missing though.

“Say. Where is Dee?” “Depression... hasn’t come out of his room since you left. Been constantly crying too. I tried to help but well...You know how I get when you’re not around.”

Deceit patted Remus on the back before freeing himself of the hug and slowly making his way towards the hall. Towards that door that had remained close for such a long time now.

-

The knock echoed through his room. Startling him from where he had been staring at the wall for the last hour.

He got up then. Wrapping the cape around his shoulders a little tighter before walking towards the door and leaning against it.

“Depression? You in there buddy?”

He didn’t feel like he was there. Felt like he was still sitting on his bed. Or maybe floating in the sky a thousand miles away. Felt like he was anywhere except next to his door. Hearing the voice he’d longed to hear for so many months on the other side of it.

“Buddy it’s me. Come on, open up.”

Maybe Remus had finally lost his mind and was starting to imitate him. Maybe Wrath had turned cruel and was now mocking him for his own enjoyment. Maybe- “

“Come on DP. I wouldn’t lie to you. Just, please. Open the door.”

‘I wouldn’t lie to you.’

Depressions eyes grew wide as he felt himself reattach to his own body.

‘I wouldn’t lie to you.”

Suddenly very aware of his hand on the doorknob as he turned it to the left. Unlocking it before opening the door.

And slowly. Inch by inch. He opened the door to reveal-

He cried out suddenly. And Deceit was barely able to lift his head before he had two arms full of trembling, heavily sobbing Depression to comfort.

And, as he lifted a hand to comb through the sides hair soothingly, he knew they would be alright. The other three sitting beside him or leaning against his knees after they’d settled down on the couch. Wanting to be as close as possible after being completely without for so long. And as Thomas summoned the other four sides he knew it would be alright. Logan gave him an encouraging nod before he started explaining his troubles.

He knew it would be alright. Maybe not now. Maybe not for a long time. But eventually... Eventually, they would be whole again.

-

So I might have gone off the track with this one. I know the original post did not include a happy ending or even the vaguest hint for it. But I think I’ve let my boys suffer enough to be allowed to give them a bit of hope.

Also. I did not make them all go and ask Thomas to lie in the 8th month like it said but to me, this felt like it was a more natural evolution. I hope it doesn’t bother you all too much.

Anyways! This took me way too long. I hope you all enjoyed. Remember to take care of yourselves kiddos.

Have a good one,

Roman

[siren1song]

All That Glitters

Summary: Virgil is not happy about Andy's refusal to give him his ring back. He'll have to figure out another way to get ahold of it, but for now he needed to get back to the sea floor before he depressurized from the changes his body went through at night.

Warnings: Mentions of eating people, mentions of cannibalism, if anything else needs tagged let me know.

Pairing: Platonic Dukexiety

Word Count: 1,232

Taglist: @acanvasofabillionsuns, @emo-disaster, @greenninjagal-blog, @jungle321jungle, @sleepy-sides, @gattonero17, @another-sandersidesblog, @strawberryjellystuff, @remusownsmyuwus, @logic-with-a-pinch-of-deceit, @demidork84, @gr3ml1n-loser, @main-chive, @kiribakuandcats, @firey-alex, @orca-iguana, @spooky-scary-virgil, @yalltookmyurlideas,

Notes: This. Was supposed to be Anxvi. And now there’s plot and world building. God damn it.

Commissions!! | Buy Me a Kofi!! | Join Casper’s Crew!! | Ao3 Link!!

Virgil wasn’t sure what to expect from the pirate human. He was used to eating before he asked questions, ripping flesh from bone before considering to negotiate. And sailor meat was always the perfect amount of salty for him to enjoy.

But Andy had something he wanted, and Virgil had to cooperate long enough to get it back. Then he’d eat him, though he looked stringy with too much muscle and not enough fat.

Well… that had been the plan at least. Missy had been a big woman, and Virgil had had a very nice fill of her.

And Andy, bastard he was, still refused to give the ring back.

“What, you thought I trusted you not to lure me in with your voice the second I gave you the ring back?” Andy asked, smirking down at him from where he was on the ship.

Virgil could easily climb up there. His claws were long enough to dig into the wood. He could even use his siren song to make the ass jump overboard and rip out his neck then.

He wouldn’t though. That would break his promise to Roman and Virgil always kept his word when it came to Roman.

Why the fuck he decided Virgil couldn’t obtain his ring by murder but any other time was okay, he would never know. Bastard died years ago.

“And you think it’s smart to piss off a siren because?” he growled, flexing his fingers just slightly, glancing at the sky when he hears his voice start echoing.

Sunset. His claws wouldn’t sink back in now, and his purple would now doubt be glowing to attract something for him to eat. He could bring something to Remus later, eight limbed fucker needed to eat too much and he didn’t have a siren voice to help him.

Andy shrugged, leaning against the railing of the boat and taunting Virgil by letting the ring on its chain dangle over the water.

If he was his full grown size, Virgil would’ve been able to grab it without having to climb the boat. As it was he was barely two hundred and the size a grown human man.

“I’m looking out for my own safety, siren. It’s a survival thing, I’m sure you understand?” he asked, his smirk growing when Virgil let out a loud hiss before finally ducking back into the water and shooting down.

He’d figure out how to get his ring back later, for now it was getting too dark for comfort and if he stayed in shallow waters he’d depressurize before he could get back to the sea floor.

Getting home wasn’t a challenge. Not when Remus gave off a stink for miles that for some reason only Virgil could tolerate and even then he often griped at him to turn it down.

Not like Remus could actually turn down the stench, Virgil just enjoyed giving him a hard time.

With an irritated snarl, Virgil pushed at the boulder covering the biggest entrance into the cave and slithered inside the small gap he managed to make.

“Ohohoho someone’s grumpy. Glad you made it back though. Can I eat you tonight?”

Virgil blinked down at the black void that was the bottom of the cave, frowning when all he could see was Remus’ green glowing eyes.

“Since when can you turn off your glow on your body?” he asked, darting to the side when a gooey tendril lashed out at him, stink coming off of the slime that was globbing in the water.

“I could always turn off my glow! Figured I’d try it this time to see if I could catch you.

Rolling his eyes, Virgil swam up to his perch. It was high enough Remus had to really stretch to get to him, and seeing as Remus didn’t usually put too much effort into trying to capture him for a snack, it was good enough for him.

“So did you get your ring back?”

With a snarl, Virgil grabbed a sharp rock and chucked it with all his strength down into the void.

“Oooh, that stung a little bit. Is that a no then? Did you eat him and forget to grab it before you swallowed it?”

“Sometimes Remus I consider asking you to turn up your stink in hopes you’ll suffocate in the slime,” he grumbled, peeking over his perch and resting his chin on his arm as he glared down.

Remus shifted in the void, pushing himself up enough that Virgil could see a vague outline of his face, though it was quickly brightened to a show how bony it looked when he grinned and the glowing algae growing on his teeth illuminated his skin.

“You know I can’t control my stink, V. And you know I wish I could, I’d have taken over so much land if I could. Stop bringing it up, yeah?”

Virgil scrunched up his nose, shifted to grab something from a shelf in the rock behind him and then threw down a massive hunk of flesh and blubber towards Remus.

The eldritch lurched upwards, snapping the meat into his jaw before he sunk back onto the cave floor.

“I’ll get a bigger hunt later, stop being so grumpy just because your hungry,” he said, settling back in his previous spot to watch as Remus tore into the fat.

The whole thing was gone in three bites. Virgil couldn’t help but hope he’d find another dead whale.

“Not my fault you always tease me before you give me something. Just because I don’t have self control doesn’t mean I want you to taunt me.”

Virgil snorted, using his tongue to pick at a piece of flesh caught between his teeth for a moment before he spoke up.

“Really? You seem to have fun when I make you work for it.”

Remus looked up at him, grinning manically with blubber caught in his own fangs as he used his overly long tongue to wipe at them.

“I do. Reminds me of when I was able to hunt for myself. You should come down here check if the injuries are healed yet.”

Virgil took that as his cue to lift himself from his laying position and go to a smaller exit of the cave he was only able to wiggle out of because the twisting coral just outside of it was difficult to navigate into.

“I’d rather not get eaten, Remus. I’ll bring another healer mer for you though that you can eat later.”

And then Virgil pushed himself out of the hole, carefully squirming through the coral and wincing at the shrieking whine Remus let out behind him.

Fuck he hated it when he did that. Virgil was lucky not to be in the cave when it happened or he would’ve started bleeding from his eyes again at the proximity.

Oh well, it’s time to go hunting. He’d found a mer settlement about a day from the cave, just out of reach from the stink, that he’d seen a healer working with some guppies.

He didn’t know mers with eight limbs existed. Remus had lead him to believe they were an eldritch only species. And the brightness of his color had been alarming.

Didn’t really matter though, he just wanted to help his friend get out of that stupid cave so he could finally stop hunting for him.