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#intrulogical fanfic
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Hey yall, i know I've been a little MIA in this fandom lately but I'm working on a little QPR intrulogical fic so that might be out in a little while?
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chameleon66 · 3 months
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Laugh for Me!
Ships: Intrulogical (Logan x Remus)
Word count: 2785
Warnings: Censored swearing, Remus being Remus, mild angst, tickling, pranks, teasing (Let me know if I need to add anyhting)
Remus was unhinged in every way possible, good and bad. Part of the reasoning behind it was just who he was. I mean he is the personification of every morbid, sexual or intrusive thought that danced its way through Thomas’s head so no one could really blame him for being himself. But another part of it was because he enjoyed others' reactions to it, every reaction he got.
When Patton would scream in terror or when Virgil would hiss at him, it all filled him with glee. He loved observing the other sides reactions to his antics and figuring out what freaked them out and what didn’t freak them out.
But one reaction he did love getting from others was laughter, other’s laughing just made his heart figuratively explode in his chest. So after stewing on the fact that he enjoyed making other people laugh for a fraction of a second he created a new experiment and so began “Operation make every side laugh and figure out what makes them laugh so he can exploit it whenever necessary and also think of a shorter name for this operation.”
Surprisingly Virgil was the easiest one to figure out with minimal research, he laughed whenever Patton made a pun and Remus couldn’t tell at first if it was because it annoyed Logan when Patton made puns or if he actually liked them, so he would have to gather more data.
Luckily after some spying, he found that even when Logan wasn’t in the room when Patton made puns, the jokes always made Virgil laugh, quite honestly he was expecting something very different from ‘Charlie Frown’. But he wrote it down in his notes nonetheless as Virgil’s Hysterical Hacker (That's the name he came up with).
Patton was also elementary to figure out, as the happiest side he would laugh at a lot of things. At first Remus thought that Patton’s Hysterical Hacker would also be puns but it occurred to him Patton didn’t really laugh at puns, even if they weren’t made by himself but then Remus made a discovery.
One day as he went to the kitchen to fetch one of his Cock shaped popsicles from the fridge he found Patton sitting in the kitchen on the computer laughing like a hyena of helium, Remus almost had to be concerned if he was breathing or not.
When he asked Patton what was so funny he was shown a twenty minute compilation video of cat videos on youtube. Some cat’s fell into boxes and others played with balls of yarn but regardless it all made Patton squeal so Remus wrote ‘Cat videos’ down as Patton’s Hysterical Hacker.
Roman took a bit of investigating but as it turned out the answer was right in front of Remus' face, it was rooted in his dear twin brother’s love of Disney. One family love night it was Roman’s turn to choose the movie and he went with a Winnie the Pooh movie much to Remus’s, Janus’s and Logan’s displeasure.
Watching the movie was like folding socks level boring but then something caught Remus interest, after the gang tried to catch a ‘Backson’ all of them fell down a hole except for Piglet who then was challenged to find something to get them out of the hole with.
Piglet’s attempts were all stupid and fueled by miscommunication between Piglet and Rabbit. The scene wasn’t what caught Remus’s interest though it was Prince's not so charming reaction that got him listening.
Roman was rolling with laughter throughout the scene which led Remus’s to the ever so boring conclusion that Roman’s hysterical hacker was, family humor. Something that could be found in every Disney movie ever to exist.
Remus still wrote it down though and moved to the next side.
Janus was a challenge, despite having lived with him in the darkisde of the mindscape for most of his life, Janus never really went into hysterics, sure he’d chuckle but that was all Remus usually saw out of him.
But Remus did get an idea, Janus always seemed to be amused at other’s pain or displeasure like when Logan would get a papercut and Patton would insist on kissing it better or when Virgil’s pet spider Kat would escape his room and Patton would jump on the table and scream.
So as an experiment Remus poured a big helping of salt into Roman’s coffee one morning and when Roman began screaming of how it felt like he was ‘drinking the water of cold, unforgiving and salty seas’ Janus went into his deep villainous belly laugh at the scene. While Logan just rolled his eyes and Patton ran up to Roman all concerned like the father figment he was.
(Virgil was still asleep because he’s not a morning person)
That result said it all, Janus’s Hysterical hacker was another's pain/misfortune. Remus beamed as he wrote it down in his notes.
Hysterical Hackers
Emo widow — puns
Daddy — cat videos
Romano Cheese — family friendly humor
Lies and dulls — other’s pain
Logie bear —
But as Remus finished writing he came to a realization, there was one side left to figure out. His boyfriend. Logan.
You’d think that being his lover Remus could figure out his Hysterical Hacker with ease but now that Remus was thinking about it, he hadn’t really seen Logan laugh before. Maybe he had seen him chuckle once or twice but Remus couldn’t even recall a specific time he saw Logan do that.
That realization made Remus feel sad, He couldn’t remember a time his own boyfriend, the freaking light of his light, had laughed.
But that realization also made Remus more determined than ever to complete his research project. He'd make Logan laugh even if it was the last thing he would ever do.
It was time to get serious. Logan as the logical side didn’t spend time doodling on emotions or things like that so Remus had little to go off of. So that meant he’d need to experiment.
Remus cracked joke after joke around Logan day after day but came up empty handed each time.
Remus upped his pranking game on all of the other sides but each time Logan observed a prank happening he would only roll his eyes at the display.
Remus spied on Logan for hours on end but he got nothing even, when Logan was alone he wouldn’t laugh at anything.
Remus kept trying day after day to get Logan to laugh, he kept getting more and more desperate for it. It almost became like a craving to hear Logan laugh; it was starting to drive Remus insane. He just had to hear Logan laugh, he just had to!
After a full week, Remus had run out of patience so that meant he would need to get information straight from the source and not through spying, experiments or research.
“Logan, I need your help.” Remus rose up into Logan’s room with no warning and interrupted the rhythm of clattering keys of Logan’s computer.
Logan turned in his spinnable desk chair to face his boyfriend, Logan’s rise teemed with interest. They had collaborated on many different projects together and it only made sense really, they were a perfect pair for answering questions.
“Yes Remus, how may I be of assistance?” Logan asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.
Remus didn’t hesitate before he started explaining his predicament to Logan.
“So I started this research project a few weeks ago about what each of the sides hysterical hackers are.”
Logan’s head tilted to the side like a curious puppy’s would.
“Hysterical Hacker?”
“What makes each side laugh, like really laugh.” Remus contextualized
“Ok, please continue.”
“So after I figured out the other’s Hysterical Hackers and I moved on to yours but I couldn’t really find anything that makes you laugh even after I did experiments, observations, you know that sciency stuff you're supposed to do.”
Logan gave a hum of understanding before he got up from his desk chair before speaking again. “I must admit I don’t have much of a sense of humor.”
“Well I could tell that much.” Remus joked sarcastically but inside he was bursting with curiosity. He had come to find out what makes Logan laugh but it appeared that even Logan didn’t know.
“But if you wish, I can help you gather more data.” Logan offered and Remus didn’t hesitate before he responded.
“Yes, so where do we start Logie?”
“Firstly I’d like to hear what results you got with the other’s”
“Well P*ssys is family disney humor, papa bear’s is cat videos, Double dee’s is other pain and tickle me emo ‘s is pun of all things.”
Logan's face tinged with a blush and Remus wondered for a minute if it was something he said. Logan didn’t mind Remus’s colorful vocabulary and his usual reaction to it was an eyeroll, so what prompted the blushing?
Logan centered himself and pushed more words out. “I see, well then since everyone’s Hysterical Hacker is different, we can assume that mine is different too.”
“Lo lo are you ok, your face is all red?”
“I’m quite alright Remus.” Logan’s answer however did not satisfy Remus and he didn’t need the snake like lie detector to know Logan wasn’t telling him the truth. So Remus did the only Logical thing.
Remus ran forward full speed at Logan and tackled Logan down to the floor, sitting on his hips and hands pushing down on his belly to keep him down
“Re–Remus what are you doing?” Logan’s voice was up a few ocatives and the blush on his face got redder and spread across his face.
“You are going to tell me why you are all blushy or I will leave at the top of a broken ferris wheel until you confess!” Remus never made an empty threat and Logan knew this all too well.
“I’m fine–just get your hands off–off me!” Logan's voice also sounded a bit strained and Remus could help but wonder why. That’s when he noticed Logan’s belly trembling under his hands and before Remus could truly think it through he began skimming his fingers over Logan’s tummy.
Logan’s lips flattened and he bit down on his bottom lip which was enough for Remus to understand.
“Aww… is the nerd ticklish?” Remus asked in a baby voice that made Logan so flustered he couldn’t even get words out.
But that still answered Remus' question, Remus found a way to make Logan laugh and he’d say now was a pretty good time to exploit it.
Given Logan seemed to be able to hold in his laughter while Remus was tickling his tummy that meant it wasn’t his weak spot and that meant Remus would need to experiment some.
“Where are you ticklish Starlight?” Remus asked, pausing the movement of his hands for Logan to catch his breath and answer. Remus, being smart, also pulled both of Logan's hands above his head and put them both in his left hand freeing his right hand for tickling.
“I am not ticklish!” Logan insisted, which was the biggest lie Remus ever heard.
“Oh ok, so if I were to pinch your side then you wouldn’t react?” Remus' hand went to pinch Logan’s side and Logan’s mouth tightened around itself probably in an effort to not laugh.
“You need to laugh!” Remus stated. “I command you to laugh for me!” With that being said Remus started scribbling his nails into Logan’s side and then it was all over.
“Ahhhhhahahahahahah no no no REEhehehmush nohahahahahahaht there.” Logan’s laugh was so sweet and light and Remus became addicted to it almost instantly.
“No way Jose, now I need to find all of your tickle spots, so you make things easy and just tell me where your tickle spot is or I can tickle you everywhere until I find it.” Both of Remus’s options were not what Logan was hoping for but Remus was so adorable and maybe he would go easy on him if just told him.
All taken into consideration Logan got out in between laughs “Knees” and Remus did not need to told twice.
Remus let go of Logan’s hands and turned around and sat on Logan’s thighs. Remus' hands went onto Logan's knees and gave them each a squeeze, Logan let out a squeal and his leg began thrashing around, trying to escape.
“Someone’s got very ticklish knees.” Remus smirked at Logan as he began to trace circles around them which got Logan giggling. “But I don’t think your knees are what I’m looking for.”
“Wehehehehehell whahahahat are you lohohohahahaking for?” Logan’s speech was infested with giggles and it made the ever so stoic logical side look a little sillier.
“Your Hysterical Hacker of course!” Remus exclaimed, punctuating the sentence with a squeeze of Logan’s kneecap. “If you won’t laugh on your own, then I’ll make you.”
Well if Logan wasn’t flustered before, he most certainly was now. Remus stopped tickling his knees and Logan took the chance to catch his breath because he knew that Remus wasn’t done with him yet.
Remus carefully examined Logan trying to decide on where else to try tickling him. His sides and knees were certainly good spots but not the best spot clearly. Then Remus’s eyes fell on Logan’s feet which were still dressed in shoes and socks.
In all of the time Remus had spent spying on Logan he hadn’t really seen Logan take off his shoes much. Except when just before he went to bed.
Oh Remus was good.
Wasting no time Remus moved down and sat on Logan’s legs and began to untie the laces on Logan’s shoes, it didn’t take long for Logan to catch on to Remus' devious plan.
“No, no Remus! No, not there!” Logan tried pulling his legs out from Remus but with no success due to Remus’s weight being on top of him.
“Actually Lo lo you said you’d help me find your Hysterical Hacker and if you really want to help me then you’ll sit nice and still and let me experiment.” Remus’s voice had gone uncharacteristically flat as he talked to Logan and Logan found himself with no other options than just to sit there and wait.
Once Logan’s socks were off his feet Remus started Gently running his fingers down the arch of Logan’s foot and he was not expecting the reaction that he got.
“AAAAHAHAHAHAHAHA *Snort* HAHAHAHA REHEHAHAHAH *Snort*”
Remus’s finger’s stopped and he looked back at Logan, who was bright red and now had a hand covering his mouth in embarrassment.
“Jesus f*cking christ Logan, did you just snort?” Remus asked in disbelief, were his ears playing tricks on him?
Logan looked away but nodded, Remus shocked expression turned into an ear splitting grin as he squealed to Logan. “Oh my f*ck that’s so adorkable!”
“No it’s not, it's embarrassing!” Logan argued, Remus's gears were now turning. Was this why Logan never laughed? Because he was embarrassed. Well wouldn’t do at all.
Remus grabbed Logan's foot again and began tickling the skin under his toes and that got Logan screaming.
“AAAHAHAHAHAHA *Snort* NHOHOHOHOHOHO *Snort* REHEHEHEHAHAHAMUHUHS.”
“Logan, you listen to me, and listen well!” Remus ordered to the laughing side beneath him. “Your laugh is amazing and you had better start laughing more often and if you don’t then I’ll tickle you until you pass out everyday, ok?”
“YEHEHEHEHAHAHAHSHSHSH OK JUHUHUHSTSTST STSTAHAHAP!”
Remus let go of Logan’s foot and got up off of him. Remus sat and watched his Boyfriend catch his breath and once he saw Logan lay limp on his bedroom floor he spoke to him.
“Hey, you alive?”
“Well no thanks to you.” Logan grumbled back to him.
“It was for science, my laughy Logie.” Remus insisted to Logan.
“Don’t call me that.” Logan though found himself giggling at the silly pet name.
“But it suits you so well.” Remus came down to Logan and gave him a kiss on the cheek which must have changed Logan’s mind because he didn’t argue back anymore.
“Well then I need to go update notes, I love you my laughy Logie.” Remus sunk down and rose back into his room to finish up his notes.
Hysterical Hackers
Emo widow — puns
Daddy — cat videos
Romano cheese — family friendly humor
Lies and dulls — other’s pain
Logie bear — tickling his sides, knees or feet (further research might be needed for my laughy Logie)
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Summary: Virgil is rescued by a family of selkies after being abandoned at sea. Virgil's poor gay heart may just explode.
Author: @the-sympathetic-villain
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edupunkn00b · 20 days
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Meus ex Machina, Chapter 8: Reaching
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A public domain image of two hands reaching for each other. The background is colored with indigo blue and neon green light.
Prev - Reaching - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]
Rated: T - WC: 2472 - CW: non-graphic discussion of self harm
Some people can't help but reach out, no matter how many times they're burned. And maybe that's a good thing, in the past and now.
“And this is the kitchen, kiddo!” Patton grinned, arms open wide to show off the shiny new refrigerator and sinks he and Lucas had installed in the old house.
“I’m not your kid,” the boy muttered, hands shoved deep into patched and faded hoodie pockets. "And you're not my dad."
“Oh, well, yeah, I… I know that. I… I’m sorry. You're right.” The boy never spoke of his parents but, unlike Patton and Lucas, he'd actually known them before they abandoned him at the hospital. He almost squeezed the boy’s shoulder but pulled back at the look he—Virgil, Janus had called him—gave him.
Following Virgil’s lead, Patton tucked his own hands in his pockets and smiled just a little brighter. Man, Janus and Lucas were better with this kid than he was. He'd cast his eyes about the kitchen, looking for a distraction, when his eyes landed on the big mixer Janus had bought last week.
“You know," he said, sauntering over the kitchen and pulling out a box of Eggz and tin of margarine. "Even grown-ups get hungry.” He tried to hide it, but Patton couldn’t miss how Virgil’s were trained on the food. “How about we whip up a batch of my super-secret chocolate chip cookies?”
Virgil licked his lips, eyes narrowed. ""Chocko Chip' cookies," he said, pulling out his hands long enough to make air quotes. "Or chocolate chip?"
Patton grinned and pulled a heavy block wrapped in plasticene paper from the back of an upper cabinet. "Chocolate."
Soft footsteps announced Patton’s and V’s return from The Muse's room. V tapped an order into the cabinet and Patton spoke quietly with Silvertongue in the corner as they worked together to put away a tote of medical supplies.
Logan watched them from his med bed, eyes widening when he recognized a suture tray and a drained IV kit. V caught his gaze and gave him a little shrug. “I’mma go see how I can help Princey.” He shrugged, glancing at Patton with an odd expression. “Up on the roof. Glad to see you’re feeling a little better, Mac.”
“Let me know if you need anything, Kiddo, okay?” Patton called after him and V gave the three of them a little two-fingered salute before disappearing down the hall.
“How was he?” Logan blurted out once V had left. He gnawed at his lower lip, the barely controlled hurt on Patton’s face almost more than he could stand. The two Powereds exchanged a long look, then Janus inclined his head and followed the way V had gone.
Patton moved to Logan's side and patted his hand. The touch was warm, really warm, like holding a too-hot cup of coffee in an antique ceramic mug while waiting for it to cool. “The Muse needed stitches,” he admitted, jerking his chin toward the sharps disposal and the medical tote. “But you probably figured that.”
“Do his…” Logan’s hand twitched beneath his and Patton removed it, too quickly to stop him. “Do his powers cause him physical harm?” he continued, pushing away the ghostly echo of Patton’s warmth radiating through his skin.
“Well… Not… directly.” Patton pulled up the stool Silvertongue had used and folded his hands on his lap. His fingers were long but broad and strong-looking, with little nicks and calluses. He had a half-dozen tiny horizontal scars in various stages of healing over the backs of each hand. With a pang, Logan remembered tracing the fading scars on the backs of his own mother’s hands from her job at Entenmann's before they’d converted. 
Suddenly, Patton nodded and reached for Logan’s hand again, lightly brushing his fingers. He didn’t prod Logan’s scars, but he didn’t avoid them, either. He simply treated them like any other part of his skin.
Logan inched his hand closer.
“Did Silvertongue explain his powers to you?” Logan nodded and Patton took a deep breath before continuing. “The Muse sometimes… well, often behaves erratically when the rest of the world gets into his head. It’s—”
“Overwhelming,” Logan interrupted without really meaning to.
Patton gently squeezed his hand and didn’t let go. “Yes,” he nodded. “His room is protected, no sharps, no chemicals. He…” Patton tilted his head, gaze focused on Logan’s eyes. Assessing.
“Is he suicidal?” Icy slurry pooled in his stomach.
“Not directly,” he said again and the ice spread through Logan’s veins. “He… injures himself. I don’t believe he intends to hurt himself. His… his perceptions are…” Patton shook his head. “It can be difficult to follow all his thoughts when he’s activated. He’s told me he needs to reach the sensations he picks up. But it’s all in his mind. There’s nothing to reach.”
Logan stared down at his thighs and the stumps where his legs abruptly ended. The painkillers Silvertongue had administered dulled the ever-present ache of his phantom limb pain. But even ketorolac couldn’t free him completely of the pain of injuries in limbs he no longer had. ‘Nothing to reach,’ indeed.
He frowned. But stitches? IVs? Surely that part wasn’t from his own mind. “But how?” he finally asked. “How did he cut himself? The lower levels… What’s beneath it all? Cement?”
“Stone and wood. There were carpet tacks.” Patton stroked Logan’s hand but looked away. “We thought we’d gotten them all and replaced them with adhesive. They were… old. Zinc and non-magnetic aluminum alloy that won’t interfere with the EMF shield.” He met Logan’s eyes and continued at his little nod of understanding. “That meant we couldn’t use the sensors to double check we’d gotten them all.”
“So… nothing magnetic or… electrical can go in The Muse's room?” Logan’s eyes fell on his battery-powered wheelchair tucked in the corner. “And he can’t come out?”
“No.” Patton’s whisper still managed to sound sympathetic.
“I see.” Logan’s fingers curled a little tighter around Patton’s hand, his thumb tracing swirling shapes against the back. It didn’t seem to bother him, though, so Logan didn’t stop. “The… the next time you see The Muse…” Logan finally braved a glance up at Patton’s eyes. He smiled back at him, listening.
“The next time you see him, will you tell him how sorry I am?” Tears burned his eyes, the memory of The Muse’s pain sizzling through his brain. “I—” His voice cracked and he looked away.
“Oh, Kiddo…” Patton squeezed his hand back, voice soft. “The Muse knows it was an accident. He was in your mind,” he reminded him. “He feels bad for the pain he caused you.”
“He doesn’t need to.” Logan looked up, eyes wide. “It’s not his fault. I wish…” He looked down at the broken bits of a body he'd been left with. The only way he could see The Muse and speak to him in person would be in the arms of one of the team. Even if one of them were willing to carry him, his stomach churned at just the  thought of helplessly clinging to one of the Powereds, even one as kind as Patton.
He closed his eyes, head falling back against the pillow.
So worthless you can't even apologize to him. Can't even thank him for helping Silvertongue find you before the police did.
“I should let you rest,” Patton murmured. “Even with Ja—Silvertongue’s healing assistance, you’ve been through a lot and need to take it easy. Would you like me to lower the bed?”
His eyes snapped open. The med bay was like a fishbowl, surrounded on one side with the main common room, the other by the short hall to the cold steel kitchen. If he slept here, he’d be on display for the entire team. Good for people who needed close observation. Not good for him. He shook his head. “Would you bring my chair?”
“Of course.” Patton rushed to fetch it then stood next to it. “Can I—” He reached for him then let his hand lower. “How can I help you?”
Even with the med bed lowered, it was a bit of a drop down to his chair. But if he was lucky, he could make it on his own. “Perhaps… would you be willing to hold the chair steady for me?”
Nodding, Patton put one foot behind the wheel and locked his grip around the handles. Logan shimmied himself closer, scrabbling for a hold when he listed dangerously close to the opposite side of the bed. After a bit of work, he wiggled toward the edge, parallel to the seat, then pushed himself off the bed.
He landed with a quiet oof in the seat, grunting when his hip grazed an armrest.
“Are you alright?” Patton asked, hands fluttering closer before pulling them away.
Logan smiled, tight and not quite able to speak in a normal tone as pain radiated over his hip and down his phantom leg. He reached over his shoulder to pat the Powered’s hand and nodded.  “I’m good,” he managed and turned on the chair motors. “Thank you. For your help.”
“Absolutely anytime, Machina.” Patton gave him another smile. “Anything you need, please don’t ever be afraid to ask.” He watched quietly while Logan turned his chair and moved to the hallway. “I’ll call you for dinner in about an hour?”
“Actually,” he started, then turned around to face him again. Patton’s brow pinched with worry but he waited and listened. “Would you call me when it’s time to…” He shrugged and looked toward the common room. “Perhaps I can help set the table?” Logan tried to smile and moved his chair back and forth a few inches at top speed. “Use my unfair advantage?”
Patton chuckled and nodded. “You got it, Machina. I’ll call for you. Get some rest in the meantime.”
“I will. Thank you.” Logan’s smile strengthened, then he turned with a little nod and rolled down the hall. When Logan returned to his room, though, he didn’t lie down. Instead, he closed the door and wheeled himself to the window. 
The Prince’s Illusion only worked one way and though from the outside, Logan sat on the other side of a boarded up bay window, he could see perfectly through to the violets and daisies growing outside. The sill was nearly the same height as the seat of his chair and it had only taken him a few days’ practice to work out the best way to wiggle out of his wheelchair and onto the soft cushions.
He hadn’t yet worked out which of them had set this up. While the window frame was old, likely renovated from the original structure, the pillows were stitched from the same durable ecosynth cloth as the Mad Lads’ suits. Throughout the house, there were other window seats and benches, but none at this height. They'd built this for him.
Leaning back against the pillows in the deep window seat, Logan closed his eyes. If the prisoner in the basement wasn’t quite a prisoner, what did that mean for the rest of the team’s behavior? Was all of this, the accommodations, the care… Was it all… real?
And how would he ever make amends for not once, but twice, harming one of their own?
~
Despite Logan's best efforts to stay awake, it felt like only seconds later when Patton’s soft voice spilled from the comms speaker in his room. He jerked upright, hand reaching automatically for the spot next to his thigh for his chair’s control box. His fingers closed on air.
A half-second of panic later, Logan remembered where he was and took a deep breath. “I’ll be right there,” he called back. Moving carefully, he slid back into his chair and hurried out to the kitchen.
His stomach grumbled before he’d even gotten past the med bay, the aromas of fresh tomatoes and beans from the team’s backyard garden blending with cumin and cayenne. Patton smiled at him, stirring a bubbling pot, and gestured to a stack of bowls, napkins, and utensils on a low counter.
“If you meant it, it would be a big help if you set the table. Ultraviolet and The Prince are up on the roof and Silvertongue’s on a call.” 
“Of course I meant it.” Two at a time, Logan transferred the stack of bowls to his lap, then added the napkins. Taken together, he was able to lean and use his stub of a left arm to hold them steady while he steered his chair to the table.
He steadfastly ignored the way Patton pretended not to monitor his progress. He did appreciate, though, how he’d been spared the indignity of having to wait as he took down the dishes for him and placed them in his lap as though he were a child.
Setting the table went slowly and by the time he’d finished and returned to the kitchen for cups, Patton had already transferred the chili to a serving bowl and was filling a pitcher with ice and the sweet electrolyte drink the team favored. Though reluctant to admit it, Logan had begun to enjoy it with their meals, as well.
What Patton hadn’t done, though, was pull down the drinkware from their high cabinet. After scanning the counters one last time in case he’d somehow missed them, Logan swallowed his dwindling pride and looked up at Patton. “Would you mind getting the cups down for me?”
“Oh, right!” He sealed the lid on the pitcher but didn’t move from his work. “We transferred them to the cabinet by the fridge.” Patton pointed to the low cabinets in easy reach from his chair. “Silvertongue mentioned your bloodwork showed signs of chronic dehydration. Figure it’s easier for you to drink more if you can reach them yourself.”
Logan opened the first cabinet. Recessed lights glowed, revealing stacks of cups and bowls and plates. The front of the shelf ended in an inch-tall lip and, experimentally, Logan tugged it. It rolled toward, putting the dishes in easy reach. He looked up at Patton, eyes wide.
Patton shrugged. “I’m still working on the rest of the kitchen, but we’ve got all the basics there.”
“This is…” Logan bent in his chair to look under the cabinet and slid the shelf back and forth. The rollers were pneumatically assisted, allowing him to use just a single finger to move it. “This is very thoughtful, Patton. Thank you.”
“We’ll need Ultraviolet to make more parts,” he said, picking up a dish of cornbread and the pitcher. Logan quickly followed and stacked the cups between his leg and the side of his chair. “There’s a lot more to do,” Patton admitted. “Maybe after dinner you could help figure out what’s the next best mod to tackle?”
“I—I’d like that,” Logan nodded and followed him out of the room, casting one last glance at the steel kitchen. The whole room felt just a little warmer. “I’d like that a lot.”
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rosepetalgold · 6 months
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the art of saying goodbye
Summary: Remus expects a lot of things from the Queen Anne Victorian house he’s just purchased—a restoration project to occupy his time, some peace and quiet from nosy neighbors, a chance to brag about being a homeowner before his goody two-shoes brother.
What he doesn’t expect is for the property to come with a very real, very curious ghost. But what is he supposed to do, just ignore the spirit? That'd be nothing short of rude, especially considering that the specter's fascination with modern science and penchant for hijacking Remus' technology proves unfairly endearing.
But even as their unlikely friendship grows, so too do the questions swirling in Remus’ mind: Why is Logan still haunting the place he used to live? Who is the mysterious Janus he refuses to talk about? And what will it take for the ghost to finally find peace with the life and the love that were stolen from him so long ago?
Relationships: Platonic Intrulogical, past romantic Loceit, background romantic Prinxiety
Warnings for this chapter: None!
Word Count: 7000
Notes: My fic for this year's @sandersidesbigbang, aka another angsty tale that inexplicably grew out of a single fluffy scene, aka a prime excuse to procrastinate by poring through countless photos of beautiful Queen Anne houses my beloved. I hope you enjoy this ghostie story as much I enjoyed writing it! A big shoutout to my wonderful beta reader @dragonsaphirareads for all their feedback on this fic, and don't miss the amazing art by the incredible @casart and @onthevirgeofdestruction—you can check out their pieces here and here! (Seriously, even if you don't read the fic, go feast your eyes on their work because it is straight-up stunning. Go look, you'll see.)
Read on Ao3 Masterpost
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“This place is definitely haunted.”
Remus snorts, giving his brother a friendly sock in the arm.
“Oh come on, Ro, you scared of a few ghosties now? Afraid a floating white sheet is gonna jump out and yell boo?”
Roman doesn’t answer, just eyes the Queen Anne Victorian home in front of them with the amount of trepidation he usually reserved for any time Remus started a sentence with ‘I have an idea.’ The house does give off distinctly spooky vibes, Remus has to admit, what with its boards in desperate need of a new coat of paint and its broken window in the attic, not to mention the porch that looks liable to send someone plummeting to the ground if they take a single wrong step, but what was wrong with any of that? It all just added to the building’s character, and the risk of falling through the veranda was a delightful way to keep visitors on their toes, in his superior opinion.
And besides, he couldn’t turn his nose up at the property’s many flaws when they made it dirt-cheap. He wasn’t exactly a millionaire.
He grabs Roman’s arm, tugging him forward.
“C’mon, there’s some wicked spindlework on the back you gotta check out.”
His brother makes a sound of protest, dragging his feet as Remus hauls him onward.
“Aren’t we going to go inside?”
“Nah, I don’t have the keys yet. Everything’s still pending or whatever.”
Roman shifts his incredulous gaze from the house to Remus.
“You made me come all this way just to look at the outside of a house you haven’t even officially bought yet?”
Why yes, he had. He was such a good brother.
“Don’t act like it’s such a burden to drive twenty minutes out of the way to get here, especially when it means you’re twenty minutes closer to a booty call with Virgil.”
Roman splutters, face flushing a splendidly scandalized shade of crimson, and Remus cackles. That was more like it.
“Now c’mon c’mon c’mon, the sooner you ooh and aah over all my cool house shit, the sooner you can get some of that good di—”
“Don’t even finish that sentence,” Roman interrupts, slapping his hands over his ears, but he doesn’t protest as Remus pulls him around to the back of the house and points out the expansive if overgrown backyard, the plethora of decorative elements adorning the home, the leaded glass windows that have survived well over a century.
“I don’t get it, though,” Roman says as he eyes the tower gracing the corner of the house, something Remus would swear is a hint of jealousy in his gaze. Made sense. He knows for a fact his brother would sell his soul to be Rapunzel. “If this is such a nice place, why has it sat empty for so long?”
“Dunno. The realtor just said it stayed in the family of the guy who built it for a while before changing hands a bunch. Apparently every time it’s been on the market it’s taken ages to find a buyer, but she didn’t really say why no one wanted to live here for too long.” Probably just her trying not to scare him away from what was clearly a substantial restoration project so she wouldn’t lose her commission. Either that or there was some kind of toxic fungus in the walls that had taken over all the previous residents’ brains and turned them into zombies and Remus was about to become its next victim.
What a delightful gamble to find out which one it was.
“Can we please go now before some serial killer comes charging out of this place and we both end up on the news?” Roman asks, already edging back towards the front of the house.
“Sure, if you really want to give up your one shot of having your fifteen minutes of fame in the media,” Remus replies, dancing away with a grin as Roman aims a kick at his shins. “Fine, fine, we’ll go. I wouldn’t want to keep you from a hot date and some—”
Something catches his attention, a flash of movement out of the very corner of his eye, and he pauses mid-stride, doing a double-take at the second-story balcony overlooking the backyard.
Nothing. Not even a curtain blowing in the non-existent breeze.
“What?” Roman questions from where he’s also stopped a few yards ahead of him.
Remus looks a moment longer, searching for anything out of place, but all is still.
“Nothing. Probably just a bat or something. Wouldn’t that be cool as shit, to have bats as roommates? Hey, maybe they have rabies if they’re out in the daytime. Did you know…”
He launches into a spiel of the most gruesome and fascinating facts he knows about the disease, joyfully watching his brother’s face grow increasingly horrified with each one as they make their way back across the yard, and by the time they reach the driveway, the flicker of movement is barely a blip on his mental radar.
Just a trick of his eyes, surely.
It wasn’t like houses could actually be haunted, after all.
---
Home sweet home.
Or home rundown-and-slightly-musty-smelling home, as the case may be, but who was Remus to nitpick?
He fits his shiny new key into the lock and steps inside, letting the door click shut solidly behind him as he pauses just over the threshold, taking a moment to survey the foyer. His foyer now, in his very own home. The sale had been endless offers and counteroffers and a mountain of paperwork so large he’s positive he could have buried himself beneath it and never been seen again, but the place is finally his.
Him, a homeowner. Who’d have thunk it. He’ll be rubbing this in Roman’s apartment-renting face every chance he can get, thank you very much. It’s the least he can do, really.
He unceremoniously deposits the cardboard box in his arms on the floor and wanders further inside, trailing his hand along the smooth wood of the stair banister as he passes. He’s supposed to be meeting some of his friends back at his old place shortly—or now, actually, but that was wholly irrelevant—to start moving all of his worldly possessions into his fancy new abode, but he hadn’t been able to resist the temptation of taking the first load of boxes alone just to have the place to himself for a bit; he could use a few minutes to enjoy the space in peace before it’s filled with Roman and Virgil squabbling about the worst Disney movie heroes or whatever argument they were bound to get into.
Despite its well-worn exterior, the house is in surprisingly good condition inside, he muses as he roams through the empty rooms. There’s clearly extensive work that needs to be done if he wants to restore the place to its Victorian glory, an ambitious undertaking he knows will be neither cheap nor easy, but the bones of the structure are all solid, especially considering how many years it’s stood empty.
He finishes his meandering loop around the first floor and heads up the stairs, the tread of his steps entirely too loud for the pervasive quiet as he continues his exploratory wandering through the second story rooms. He pauses as he reaches what is clearly the master bedroom, surveying the original fireplace, the century-old hardwood, the attached balcony that was just begging to be used to pour water onto his unsuspecting brother’s head. Shit, his new house was cool as fuck.
It’d make the most sense to start hauling his load of boxes here, considering that’s where most of his crap is going to end up eventually, but the longer he hovers in the doorway, the more something feels … off. Just the slightest tingle prickling down his spine, and not the good kind. He steps inside and the temperature drops noticeably, a chill raising the hair on his arms.
“The fuck?” he mutters, raking his gaze over the windows in search of damaged panes letting in a breeze, but everything is intact.
He advances another step on impulse and the pinpricks dancing along his vertebrae only grow stronger, now accompanied by the distinct feeling he’s being watched. He scans the room again, slower this time, but there’s no furniture, no closet, not so much as a nook or cranny for anyone or anything to hide. Even the ceiling is empty when he turns his gaze upwards on the off chance he really does have some bats hanging around that he’s somehow missed on his numerous pre-sale walk-throughs.
Nary a beady eye to be found and still the sensation of being in someone’s sights doesn’t lessen. Not that it’s a threatening feeling, exactly, just distinctly unsettling, like there’s someone behind him no matter how many times he glances over his shoulder and finds nothing but empty air.
But that was crazy. He’d read the final sale documents until his eyes had been about to start bleeding and he’s absolutely positive that the house hadn’t come with any roommates. He’s probably just imagining the feeling, the result of watching one too many horror movies in the last week or his brain making things up in an attempt to liven up the empty space.
His phone buzzes in his pocket, yanking him out of his thoughts, and he rolls his eyes without even looking at the screen, already able to see the text from Roman in his mind’s eye: where you at?? i’m not packing up all your crap for you followed by an absurdly long string of emojis that basically constituted their own Roman-specific hieroglyphic language.
Time to face the moving-day music before Roman got annoyed enough with waiting that he rescinded his promise of free manual labor, then. Any investigations of potential invisible voyeurs would have to wait, no matter how titillating such a prospect sounded when he put it like that.
“You win for now, house,” he says into the quiet as he turns to leave, an edge of coldness still dancing along the goosebumps on his skin. “Keep your secrets. I’ll figure ‘em out eventually.”
---
The afternoon passes in a blur of hauling entirely too many heavy boxes and unwieldy pieces of furniture to the new house, and by the time night settles onto the horizon, Remus is utterly exhausted. He flops back on the couch, too tired to even think about putting his bedframe together, and he’s out in minutes.
He wakes disoriented, mind scrabbling blankly for a moment before the darkness coalesces into the still-unfamiliar contours of his sitting room. He just lies there for a moment, trying to figure out what’s roused him, but all is still. Just his brain deciding to deprive him of some tantalizingly horrifying nightmares, unfortunately—
Tap tap tap.
Remus bolts upright at the unmistakable sound of footsteps on the hardwood upstairs, adrenaline surging in a dizzying rush. There hadn’t been any signs of a squatter all day, and surely he’d remembered to lock the doors so no one could steal all the crap he’d just spent a whole day of his life lugging around. He waits for a moment, holding his breath as silence falls, and just when he’s about to pass the whole thing off as his imagination playing tricks on him, the steps start up again, slow and rhythmic like someone is pacing on the upper level.
Fuck his luck. If someone is secretly living in the attic of his fancy new home, he’s not going to be pleased.
He rolls off the couch and snatches his phone off of one of the plethora of boxes waiting to be unpacked, debating whether to risk turning on the flashlight before deciding for it; he might give away any element of surprise with the beam, but he’s certain to give it away if he starts banging face-first into walls or cracking his skull open falling down the stairs. His eye catches on a glass paperweight on the coffee table, a characteristically pretentious housewarming present from Roman, who apparently thought Remus had so many papers flying about that he needed to corral them with a glorified rock, and he seizes it on a whim.
Makeshift weapon was a much more useful purpose for the thing than its intended function anyways.
He edges around the scattered boxes towards the stairs, careful to keep his steps light and his hand shielding the light from his phone as the footfalls continue overhead, and makes it all the way up the steps without so much as a creak to give him away.
Flawless. He knew all those times sneaking up behind Roman to scare the shit out of him as kids would pay off someday.
He pauses on the landing to triangulate the noise, then creeps down the hall towards the footsteps as the sound grows even more distinct. The master bedroom again? What the actual fuck was going on with that room? Had he really managed to miss someone in there when he’d investigated earlier in the day? No, he couldn’t have, but then how had someone managed to get past where he’d been sleeping on the couch? Unless he really did have somebody living in the walls—
A floorboard squeaks underneath his foot, deafeningly loud in the quiet of the night, and the footsteps abruptly stop. Remus swears under his breath. Traitorous piece of wood. Now or never, then.
He lunges forward into the doorway of the master bedroom, raising the paperweight and howling a war cry as he swings his light across the room to reveal—
Nothing. The space is as entirely and utterly empty as it had been that morning.
Well, shit. There went any element of surprise he had left.
He darts back into the hall, racing to search through the rest of the rooms on the upper level one by one, but they’re all just as vacant as the first. He even hauls himself into the attic, bracing himself to be clubbed over the head by whoever is lurking, but with the exception of innumerable shadows billowing away from his flashlight, the space proves equally empty as the rest.
Unease stirs in his gut, creeping in alongside the lingering adrenaline as he makes his way back down the precariously rickety ladder into the main house. Surely there’s no way someone could have gotten past him, not when he would have heard them in the hall or going down the stairs.
And yet, as far as he can tell, besides a few mice tucked away in the attic, there isn’t another living soul in the house.
He stops in the doorway of the master bedroom again, staring inside. He’s positive this is where the footsteps had been emanating from, lack of proof be damned. Something weird was going on with this house.
Good thing Remus had just made the biggest financial commitment of his life to buy it.
Nothing for it now but to hope some elusive, wall-dwelling ax murderer doesn’t give him the chop in his sleep, he supposes, although he has to admit that’d be a badass way to go.
He reluctantly makes his way back downstairs and shoves a pile of boxes at the foot of the stairs to trip any nefarious intruders coming down, then retreats back to the couch, all the while keeping his ears primed for so much as a whisper of sound above him.
But even though it takes him a long time to drift back to sleep, the house around him remains as silent as a grave.
---
The whole thing must have been an impressively lucid dream, Remus decides the next morning. A second investigation in the light of day doesn’t reveal anything out of place: no shoe prints on the floor, no critters, certainly no people. It was probably nothing then, he tries to convince himself, just his overactive imagination needing an outlet after being a bit too jittery from all the excitement of moving.
But he finds himself pausing in the master bedroom again, something drawing him back to the space. First the chill and the strange feeling of being watched, then the mysterious footsteps? Two separate coincidences, or something more?
God, he sounded about as paranoid as Virgil. Next thing he knew he was going to be inventing his very own conspiracy theory to explain a few bumps in the night.
It really was nothing, he tells himself, shaking off any lingering unease as he tromps back down the stairs. If he starts jumping at every little noise in his old-as-shit house, he’ll be long dead before he gets the property restored. If he starts seeing glowing red eyes in the dark, he’ll start to worry. Until then, he has a mountain of boxes to unpack.
Unfortunately, said mountain does not pull a Beauty and the Beast and begin unpacking itself, leaving Remus to spend a dreadfully dull afternoon doing it instead, only the allure of building a fort out of all the empty boxes keeping him from living out of cardboard for the rest of his life.
By the time he’s finally finished unboxing most of the downstairs and getting the tv and wifi set up, most of the day has passed him by, afternoon sunlight splaying golden fingers across the hardwood.
Break time, then. He’s earned it, if he does say so himself.
He collapses onto the couch, flipping on the tv and surfing through the channels until he finds a rerun of some low-budget horror film from the eighties. Perfect. Nothing like a bit of mindless tv to rot his brain just that much more. Settling back more comfortably into the cushions, he pops open the bag of chips he’s snagged from the kitchen and pulls out his phone, beginning to scroll through his notifications.
Modern multitasking at its finest, truly.
But he’s barely a minute into atrophying his mind via social media before the tv starts flickering, volume dropping precipitously before ratcheting back up, the picture jumping to the weather channel, then a British cooking show, then the news with Spanish subtitles flashing in and out at the bottom of the screen.
Remus freezes with a chip halfway to his mouth, staring at the remote where it’s very definitely out of his reach on the coffee table, all by its lonesome. He’s no expert, but he’s pretty sure technology was not, in fact, supposed to suddenly start functioning by itself without any human input. Was his new house secretly sitting over some freaky radioactive waste? That would certainly explain why no one had wanted to buy it. Or was this some EMP disaster? Had someone decided to take out the whole country’s power grid, starting with Remus’ shitty tv?
He sits up, reaching for the rogue remote, only to pause as a chill moves over him, then past him like it’s heading for the tv, and the screen crackles, static beginning to fuzz both the video and the audio as the picture continues to leap wildly between programs.
Fuck the remote, then. Whatever freak accident has descended upon his living room, it’s time to go straight to the source.
Abandoning his snack, he stands, striding to the outlet and yanking the plug out of the wall. Silence falls immediately, the screen fading to black, but there still lingers a noticeable chill in the air, cold energy palpable against his skin and all too reminiscent of the feeling he remembers from being in the master bedroom.
“What the hell,” he mutters under his breath, casting his gaze around the room. Empty, just as upstairs had been the last three times he’d checked. He takes a step backwards, then another, and the strange chill decreases. On a whim, he pulls out his phone, scrolling through several apps without even paying attention to them, and sure enough, the hair on his arms raises as the temperature falls again, that sparking feeling of energy growing more intense as his phone begins to flicker on its own.
“What the actual hell,” he whispers again. Roman can’t have been right—this place can’t actually be haunted. There’s absolutely no way there’s a real, live—or dead, technically, he supposes—ghost in his living room right now playing fuck-up-the-electronics.
But if there is…
“Hello?” he calls, and the flickering abruptly stops, chill retreating once more. Shit. One word in and apparently Remus has already fucked things up. “Hello?” he tries again. Did this maybe-possible-potential ghostie even speak English? “I’m Remus,” he says, feeling more than a little crazy for introducing himself to his empty living room. If Roman ever knew of this, he’d die laughing and then Remus really would have a ghost haunting his ass.
He wracks his brain for something to say. If he were a ghost and a stranger started moving all of their shit into his home, what would he want to hear from them?
“Um, cool house you have here. I’m not gonna like, fuck it up or anything.”
Silence.
“I’m planning on restoring it bit by bit as I have money so if you could tell me the original paint color or wallpaper patterns, that’d be dope.”
Still nothing. Apparently the ghost is not amused. Time for a different tactic, then.
“What’s your name?”
Not even a cricket chirping. Jesus fucking christ, Remus is really blowing this.
“That’s the tv—the television,” he explains, gesturing towards the device that had seemingly either fascinated or enraged his new housemate, he can’t quite tell which. “It works by… well, I don’t really know how it works. Something with waves and frequencies or some shit? But you can watch recordings, people acting or baking or doing dumb reality dating shows or whatever, so if there’s something that you wanna see…”
He trails off, surreptitiously scanning the room for any ethereal presences, but the house is quiet, the ghostly feeling fading bit by bit. Great. An actual paranormal experience and he’s gone and shoved his foot so far in his mouth he can practically feel his toes wiggling in his small intestine.
“Alright, that’s cool, no worries. Just lemme know if you change your mind.”
He waits a moment more, hoping for a disembodied voice to speak or an object to start moving on its own or his body to suddenly become possessed, but there’s nothing. Snagging his leather jacket off the back of the couch, he beelines for the door, forcing himself not to run as excitement begins to grow with every step, bubbling up around his bones. He has a ghost. A ghost, an actual fucking ghost, and he hadn’t even had to pay extra for it. No way he’s not going to take advantage of the universe handing him the sickest housewarming present in the world, never mind the fact that he might end up a walking meat suit for the spirit.
He pauses as he reaches the edge of the yard, then thinks better of it and pivots, heading for his car instead. Who knew how far ghost range was, and he doesn’t want his new roomie overhearing. He’s practically vibrating with energy as he makes his way down the long, winding drive, and he only makes it a few miles down the road before he’s pulling over onto the shoulder, hopefully well out of spirit range.
His first call rings through to voicemail, but Remus doesn’t bother leaving a message, just hangs up and tries again, only to be met with the same result. The third time, though, proves to be the charm.
“What,” the voice on the other end spits, cheerful as ever. “Fuck you, Remus, I’m in the middle of—”
“You’re still into all that weird stuff, right? Like the cryptids and the creepies and the ghouls and ghosties and all that?” Remus interrupts. He can deal with Virgil’s wrath another time—he has information he needs and he needs it pronto.
A pause, so long he’s sure Virgil has hung up on him and he’s going to have to keep calling until the emo answers his question.
“Yeah?” the distrustful reply finally comes, anger blunted by obvious wariness. “Why—”
“I need to pick your brain,” Remus cuts in again. “I’ll be there in twenty.”
---
Plan Contact The Resident Possibly Unfriendly Ghost Who Might Possess Him, or CTRPUGWMPH to be short and snappy about it, is officially a go.
Unfortunately, it isn’t off to a promising start.
Virgil’s knowledge had turned out to be more spirit lore than specifics about how to get a ghost to actually appear, although he’d been infinitely more helpful than Roman, who’d just stared at him and asked if he’d had the house checked for carbon monoxide poisoning. Remus had soundly ignored him and had left Virgil’s apartment with his head swimming with theories about why ghosts haunt particular places and an extensive lecture from Virgil about how to find any potential objects or reasons tying a ghost to the house that might provide a potential talking point to engage said ghost in conversation.
But despite digging into every crack and crevice on the internet, emailing the local historical society, even calling his realtor to ask again about the history of the property, Remus comes up with precious little. The house had originally been built in the 1880s by a local merchant, everyone seems to agree, and had been inherited by his nephew soon after, but beyond that there’s frustratingly scant information available, and he can’t find so much as a whisper about anyone dying in the home. His ghostie could be anyone, then: A Victorian builder who’d taken a tumble, a flapper girl who’d partied a tad too hard, a hapless victim of some modern serial killer who’d taken advantage of the place sitting abandoned for years to do a bit of light murdering. 
With precisely zero context clues as to his new housemate’s identity, then, Remus embraces his remarkable talent of keeping up an entirely one-sided conversation as he works around the house the next few days, rambling about anything and everything related to the property he can think of, hoping something will pique the ghost’s interest. But besides a few more cold spots and flickering screens, the house remains stubbornly quiet. Maybe his ghost just needed a bit of help in communicating, though; drifting around an empty building with no one to talk to for the past god-knew-how-many years can’t have done good things to their incorporeal vocal cords.
Which brings him to Plan B: The infamous Ouija board, favorite tool of grifters and bullshit paranormalists everywhere.
And yet despite the makeshift, very high-budget seance he conducts with the two dollar board and the zero dollar candles he’s lovingly stolen from his brother, there’s once again no reply from beyond the veil besides a chill in the room that somehow radiates disapproval. Apparently his ghost isn’t a fan of pseudoscientific games any more than he is. At least they had standards, whoever they were.
But Remus is a stubborn bastard if he does say so himself, so on to Plan C it is. The used EMF meter he snags off of ebay has definitely seen better days, given the prominent crack across its screen, but the thing had been cheap and still seemed to work, so Remus wasn’t complaining.  Fancy equipment was for fancy people, after all, and of all the things he’s ever been called, he’s positive fancy isn’t one of them. He sets up the device behind the tv, which still seems to intrigue his ghost every time it’s turned on, puts on the first show he can find, and forces himself to walk away. His little trap is set. Now all he has to do is bide his time pretending to busy himself unpacking a box of books in the next room—
He barely has the chance to register the tv screen flickering out of the corner of his eye before an ear-splitting shriek is rending the air, startling him so violently that he promptly drops a hefty tome on his foot.
“Shit,” he breathes, surging back into the living room, but the noise has already stopped just as suddenly as it began, replaced by a frigid chill permeating the room. Maybe he should have thought twice about scaring the resident phantom without first hiding any of his valuables. Hopefully he won’t wake up tomorrow to find his tv shattered. “It won’t hurt you,” he calls, though the EMF meter indicates a distinct lack of any supernatural presences. “It just makes noise to let me know when you’re nearby, yeah? Totally harmless.”
No response, but for once he doesn’t mind, not when there’s excitement dancing white-hot across his nerves. There really is a ghost or spirit or demon or something here, and he hasn’t just been imagining things.
Fuck, this house is single-handedly the coolest thing that’s ever happened to him, even if he does now have to worry about his haunting buddy getting a bit of revenge on him in the middle of the night.
But Remus survives safe and sound into the next day without so much as a supernatural scratch on his skin. Bloody payback didn’t seem like his ghost’s style anyways, not when their favorite activity seemed to be pressing as many buttons as possible on the tv remote at once. Curiosity is still nipping impatiently at his heels though, urging him to explore this latest avenue of potential communication more, so he sets up the EMF meter again, this time in the master bedroom where the spirit seems most inclined to spend time if the continued pacing in the middle of the night is anything to go by.
A brilliant plan, only minorly ruined by the fact that the device is nowhere to be found when he goes searching for it the next morning.
“Are you disappearing things, ghostie?” he asks the empty bedroom. “Gonna zap me into another dimension next?”
 He’s joking, but as his hunt through the house reveals neither hide nor hair of the EMF meter, he can’t help but wonder. Had the ghost really just yeeted the thing into the ether? Or maybe it was right where he’d left it in the middle of the bedroom, but had been turned invisible like the spirit themself? What kind of ghostly superpowers did he even have, if any—
He comes to an abrupt halt as he emerges out the back door onto the porch, a laugh spilling past his lips as he surveys the myriad bits of metal and broken plastic strewn around him. Looks like he’s found his EMF meter. Apparently his ghost wasn’t nearly as endeared to this technology as he was anything with a screen. He glances up to the master bedroom window over his head, shading his eyes from the sun.
“Fair enough,” he calls, still fighting down amusement despite himself, and there’s the faintest shimmer in the air above the balcony, reminiscent of a heat mirage despite the cool morning air. “No more screeching little boxes.”
Left with zero information about his ghost’s identity, a useless Ouija board better repurposed as a doorstop, and the remains of his one piece of official ghost-hunting equipment, Remus concludes his only option is to embark on Plan D. Said plan isn’t so much an strategic approach as it is a wild hail mary to find any way to communicate with his ghost that didn’t involved hurling objects from balconies, as much fun as such an activity was, but then again, Plan D did sound delightfully dirty, so he’ll take the trade-off.
The internet, of course, is the place to turn to for highly questionable ghost advice, and it only takes a single google search to find message boards teeming with it. Half of it is clearly bullshit, he quickly discovers as he trawls through post after useless post, and the other half is baseless theories without any semblance of evidence to back them up, but just as he’s about to call it quits and move on to whatever the hell Plan E is, an old thread catches his eye.
‘Old Ghost Caught By Photography?’ the title reads, and Remus skims through the post, intrigued despite himself at the detailed claims the author had been able to capture the image of a Victorian spirit by using an antique camera and photography methods from the end of the nineteenth century. He pores over the attached images, searching for the slightest hint of photoshop or manipulation, but everything seems legit. And it made sense in some weird, probably illogical way, he supposes, that ghosts might only be spotted by using technology from their day and age—historical continuity in the metaphysical realm or some shit.
It’s the best lead he has after hours of searching, and really, he’s just spent a very hefty chunk of change buying a whole-ass house; what was the harm in dropping a few more dollars on some vintage photography equipment?
Which is precisely how he finds himself crammed into his makeshift darkroom in the tiny closet under the stairs several weeks later, holding his breath as he carefully begins to look through the latest batch of negatives he’s just finished processing. It had taken an obscene amount of research, a healthy dose of trial-and-error, and more than a few failures to figure out the intricacies of the dry plate photography process, but he’d gotten there in the end, even if the most he has to show for it is a few suspicious blurs in a couple of images.
Maybe this whole idea of capturing ghosts in photos was just as bullshit as the others, he muses as he examines yet another empty picture of the dining room, or maybe his ghost wasn’t from the same era as the camera he’d bought. Maybe his ghost simply didn’t want to have his photo taken, or maybe—
His train of thought abruptly derails as he picks up the next plate.
Holy shit. Holy shit.
The image is still a negative, the reversed colors lending a certain eeriness to the picture under the red darkroom lights, but there, right smack in the middle of the photo—a figure. An actual human figure, clear as day, looking right at the camera. Remus whoops, nearly knocking over a vial of chemicals with his elbow as he dances backwards in pure giddiness. Oh fuck yes , there is a ghost haunting the place. His ghost, now that he owns the house. His ghost who is…
He pauses, forcing himself to focus on the figure in the photo even as he feels like he’s about to vibrate right off of his bones with excitement. Spectacles, clean-shaven, dark hair neatly styled. Neat trousers, white shirt, trim waistcoat, and a decidedly fancy ascot, the whole ensemble distinctly old-fashioned. Victorian, then? Or Edwardian? Or some historical reenactor who’d met an untimely demise in costume? And it does seem to be an untimely demise; the man looks to be in his mid- to late-twenties, unless he’d found some ability to look whatever age he wanted in the afterlife.
Regardless, he can’t make himself focus on fashion for long. He has a ghost to talk to. Fighting his way out of the cramped closet, he bounds up the stairs, forcing himself to slow to a respectable jog as he darts into the master bedroom. He stops in the middle of the still-bare room, trying and utterly failing to keep his hopes in check.
“Hello? Ghostie?”
No response.
“Mr. Glasses and White Shirt?” 
His skin prickles, the hair on the back of his neck raising. Aha. There he was. 
“Hey, what’s up?” He turns in a slow circle, searching for any sign of his specter, any flicker of light off a spectacle lens or a flash of a shirtsleeve, but the room is as empty as ever.
“I have a photo if you’d like to see it.” Could ghosts not see themselves in mirrors or was that only vampire lore? And if he couldn’t see his own reflection, did the ghost even remember what he looked like?
He raises the picture, proferring the negative to the vacant room, and holds his breath. Nothing, for several long moments, and then the chill edges closer. Remus bites his lip, barely able to keep himself from bouncing on the balls of his feet at the prospect of a ghost being within arm’s reach.
“I wasn’t trying to be creepy or anything, I just wanted to see if you were real or if I needed to go check myself into a padded room, you know? I’m Remus, if I haven’t said that. What’s your name?”
Several more excruciatingly long moments that Remus is sure has to be the longest span of silence in history, then—
“Hello.”
The voice is thin and slightly hoarse, quiet enough that Remus has to strain to make it out, but it’s as unmistakably real as the form that flickers into existence right in front of his eyes, identical to the man in the photo. He’s distinctly transparent, the edges of him not quite defined, fuzzing out around the edges like the ambient glow of neon signs, but he’s here and he’s real and this is so fucking cool that Remus could keel over right here and now from excitement and join the ghost in wandering around the house for all eternity.
“Holy shit,” he breathes, because if there was ever a time for swearing, by god this is fucking it, and the spirit withdraws slightly, already guarded expression closing in further. “No no no, it’s good,” he rushes to assure him, resisting the urge to reach out and try to touch him. “Good holy shit. Complimentary holy shit.”
The ghost doesn’t seem entirely appeased, but he tilts his head slightly, something like curiosity sparking in his eyes as he evaluates Remus.
“Why are you not frightened of me?” he finally asks, and Remus has to fight back the absurd laugh bubbling up in his chest. He’s being questioned by a century-old ghost in the middle of his haunted home. Life really was delightfully freaky.
“No offense, man, but you’re not exactly terrifying. I mean, I’ve been here what? A solid month? And you haven’t even tried to pluck my eyeballs out or anything.”
Another unreadable pause. Is he just giving the spirit ideas? Were his eyes about to be forcibly unmarried from his skull à la eagles tearing out Prometheus’ liver?
“Do you want me to be afraid of you?” he asks after a further absolutely unbearable five seconds of silence.
“No,” the ghost admits after a moment of clear hesitation, “but previous residents certainly have not appreciated my presence here.”
Remus scoffs. “That’s their problem. Some of us are smarter than that.”
The other man’s head tilt deepens, something akin to puzzlement furrowing his brow, as if he can’t fathom why having a ghost is actually the most badass shit on the face of the planet.
“Can I ask you some questions?” Remus asks, exhilaration still racing along the underside of his skin so intensely that he can barely stand it. “You can ask me whatever you want, too.”
The ghost nods, although he still seems cautious as one hand fiddles absently with his ascot. “I suppose that would be alright.”
Twenty questions with an undead spirit. Remus’ life really was getting better by the minute.
“Did you used to live here?”
“I did, many years ago.”
“Did you own the place?”
“At one point in time, yes. It was truly a beautiful house in its day, and a wonderful place to reside.”
Oh fuck yes. If having an old-timey ghost who can give him historically accurate advice about restoring the house isn’t the coolest fucking thing that’s ever happened to him, he isn’t sure what is. He has half a mind to start grilling him on paint colors and wallpaper prints and the original hardwood, but—
“Did you die here?”
The words are blurting out of his mouth without even bothering to detour through his brain on the way out, burning curiosity eclipsing any thought that perhaps asking about death isn’t exactly acceptable ghost etiquette. He barely has time to register the change in the spirit’s expression, the visceral upset written across his features clear as day, before he’s gone in between one breath and the next, vanishing back into whatever thin air he’d come from and leaving nothing but a biting chill in his wake.
Shit shit shit. He’s finally gotten the ghost to trust him enough to show up and talk and then he’s gone and ruined it within the span of two minutes all because he had all the self-control of a sieve trying to retain water.
“Wait,” he calls, casting about in vain. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to pry.” Well, apparently his subconscious had, but that hadn’t been his intention. “Please come back. You can ask me as many invasive questions as you like.” Nothing. “You can haunt me for revenge, if you want.” Utter silence. “Are you gonna hurl me off the balcony like my EMF meter?”
There he goes again, giving the specter ideas, although really, being yeeted out of a window by a ghost would be a damn cool end if he does say so himself. He lingers in the room for several long minutes, forcing himself to keep quiet lest he miss the spirit’s hushed voice, but there’s nothing but the faint sound of a bird twittering outside.
“Alright,” he finally relents, disappointment pooling in his stomach as he glances down at the photography plate still in his hand, the negative serving as indisputable evidence that the encounter hadn’t just been a fever dream. He’ll find a way to make things right with the ghost somehow, one way or another. He has to. “Just come spook me if you change your mind.”
-
Taglist (let me know if you’d like to be added or removed!): @darth-does-stuff
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hyperfixated-homo · 1 year
Text
The Disney Trivia
Ao3 Link (leave a comment if you wanna! it would make my day <3)
Summary:
It's been months now since the side's have made up, and started actually treating each other like family. Now, with everything back together, they have the brilliant idea to play a game of trivia!
In which, Virgil and Roman are the hosts (who knows more about Disney than those two?) and also may be dating, we'll get back to you on that one.
Patton and Janus are flirting the whole time.
And Remus just thinks Logan is neat.
A/N: Holy god that is the most I have ever written in a single session ever. I don't regret it at all, this was amazing asodijowajd. I missed a lot! But it was kinda necessary because the fic would have been hella long otherwise and some of it was contradictory. I hope you guys like it :)
Word Count: 5117
Ships: Mociet, Prinxiety, Intrulogical
Warnings: Mentions of Remus' heart squishing? I don't think there's anything to be really concerned about lmao
“Why are we doing this again?”
“Because DISNEY Logan!”
“That’s not exactly a sufficient answer, Roman.”
Patton smiled at the two of them as they started bickering. Even now, months after their little family sorted through their drama and everyone started getting along, it seemed like some things would never change.
The sides sat together in a large debate hall, apparently a dreamspace Logan had created a while back for a video with Virgil. Back then it had been the two of them arguing over Thomas’ negative thinking, but now it was being used for something much more fun. The side’s first ever proper group trivia!
It was an idea Roman had a couple weeks ago, during their family game nights (which mainly consisted of uncontrollable chaos). He had thrown it out there randomly during a game of Kahoot, but forgot about it shortly after.
It wasn’t until earlier that week that it was brought up again.
Virgil had come up to him shyly asking if he still felt down to do a proper game of trivia, and had suggested the first theme: Disney!
Roman had agreed instantly, and the two of them spent a couple days planning and researching for the game.
The two of them would be running the game as hosts, while the other sides were split into groups of two. Janus and Patton had been dubbed team Mociet, while Logan and Remus were in team Intrulogical.
Patton was more than a little confused when Remus started giggling at the names, but shrugged it off.
The room had been decorated more interestingly for the fun occasion. Roman and Virgil had stated that they wanted to go all out for this trivia, even if it’s more of a joke than anything else.
The curtains behind were closed, colored black as they were before, but now had added detailing that made it a less monotone background. They had strung up simple banners on the wall, and there were more than a couple new lights in the room that they wanted to use for aesthetic purposes. The floor had been changed to carpeting that had a full rainbow gradient from one corner of the room to the other.
But most importantly was the art.
Hundreds of paintings of Disney characters lined the walls. Different, stylised versions of every princess, prince and villain imaginable had been drawn on them in bright, vibrant colors.
Logan was very confused when he saw them, noting that they wouldn’t be seen much anyways since the attention would be on the judges and the stage, so he didn’t understand why they would put so much effort into it.
Roman said that it didn’t matter.
(The amount of fun that he and Remus had painting them together more than made up for it.)
It was a very neat set up! And according to the boys, there were a couple other things too that they hadn't even shown yet, because they wanted it to be a surprise for when the game actually started.
“Wow, they’re still going?”
Janus’ voice cut through Patton’s thoughts, snapping his attention to the snakey side on his left.
“Huh? Oh- they stopped arguing about the scoreboard ten minutes ago. This is a new argument.”
Janus looked at him with a deadpan expression that Patton couldn’t help but smile at.
“It’s not that bad. We just need to wait for Virgil to get the cards! He’s not going to take that long.”
Janus’ eyes softened quickly, and he turned to look back at Logan and Roman. “Yes… I suppose so. We’ll just have to wait.”
Then he turned back around, suddenly seeming a lot more competitive. “What’s our game plan?”
Patton blinked. He had absolutely no clue what Janus was talking about.
“The what now?”
Janus sighed, fondly exasperated.
“How are we going to win this Patton? You probably know at least a little bit about disney. I’m going to be fully honest, I know virtually nothing. I would say that the teams are fair in that sense except Logan’s a massive Marvel nerd and Remus knows almost as much about Disney in general as Roman, so it really isn’t. We’re at a massive disadvantage here.”
Patton blinked, again.
And Janus sighed, again.
“Do we not- is there no game plan?”
“Uhhhhhhhhhhhh,” Patton looked between him and Roman. “…be nice and hope for the best?”
Janus looked at him for a moment, then once again turned away, mumbling something about how hard it would be to gaslight Virgil into giving them points. Patton was about to make a concerned remark when the door slammed open and the anxious side himself walked into the room.
“Alright losers, stop the fighting. It’s game time.”
Roman audibly squealed, immediately stumbling over to his stand.
“Okay everybody stand in your area. Go stand- you too remus, you stand normally by your podium. We’re starting! Play the music! Why isn’t- LOGAN, THIS IS YOUR DREAMSCAPE, PLAY THE MUSIC!”
Logan rolled his eyes, but complied with the prince’s request, snapping his fingers. The Disney theme started playing, and suddenly the lights shut off.
As the music swelled, new, brighter spotlights slammed on, and the four contestants were surprised to see that they’d been changed into stunning suits and corsets, similar to their outfits at the courtroom but clearly glamorized by Roman. Their podiums had changed as well, the old wooden stands being covered fabric of their own colors with their symbols at the bottom.
Before they had time to even mention the change, another bright spotlight illuminated their hosts. Virgil and Roman were also wearing new clothes, much more layered outfits with more designs sewn into them. Virgil was sat down behind a tilted table that no doubt hid the question cards, while Roman stood in front of them.
The short intro theme faded into a bright show theme, something Patton vaguely recognised.
Roman jumped forwards, welcoming them to the show and going over a prepared speech that played in time with the music.
“Welcome everyone to the first ever Sanders Sides Trivia! Not about us, but being played by us! Today we have a very special theme, suggested by my darling emo nightmare behind me,” Virgil blushed and gave a little wave “DISNEY!”
Patton cheered. Remus joined in, and then all four of them were clapping for Roman.
His eyes were alight as he walked in front of them, posture bubbly in a way that it only ever was when he got the chance to be on stage.
“Thank you! Thank you all!” He took a mock bow.
“Today on the stage we have our two wonderful teams! First up, Team Mociet! Featuring everyone’s favorite father figure, Patton, and the slithery snake himself, Janus!”
Remus whooped from beside them, and Logan and Virgil clapped for them loudly.
Janus loudly said “Totally hate being here today, how dare you invite me.”
Patton waved at everyone, unable to stop himself from giggling.
“And as their competitors today, we’ve got our brilliant book nerd, Logan, and his partner in crime (who may or may not have actually committed some crimes), Remus!”
He and Janus cheered for them, and Remus laughed maniacally while the two of them waved as well.
“I am, of course, Roman Sanders, and this is Virgil! We will be your hosts today everybody!” he continued. The four of them together gave them a round of applause, Patton and Remus yelling out compliments over the loud noise.
“Thank you, thank you. And thank you all for coming! We’re going to go over some ground rules first, before the game can officially start, so we can just jump straight into it!”
He made his way behind the table, as he said that, sitting down. The next part was apparently Virgil’s job to present.
“We’re playing by a point system. You are given points for getting questions right, giving us a good argument or just being cool in general. We’d set better requirements but honestly, I’m sure that all of you guys would find a loophole no matter what rules we set. So we’re not doing that. Points are given based entirely on how me and Roman feel about your answers.” He leaned forwards in his chair, and rested his head in his hands, elbows on the table.
“We can also add points at any time in the game!” Roman chimed in quickly “Not just during question times! For example, padre, I’m loving the attitude right now. Plus ten points!”
There was a loud ring, and then the curtains opened behind them to show a big board, with the two teams' scores on it. Team Mociet had ten points.
Virgil continued. “We can and will take away points, too. Not for getting questions wrong, but for other things. Arguments we don’t like, trying to cheat, sabotage, all that good stuff. Like, say, that stupid hat Janus is still wearing. Minus ten points. Bad hat.”
There was a sort of power down sound, and they watched the points be erased and go down to zero.
Janus didn’t say anything. He just looked at Virgil with the most “are you serious right now” face he could muster. Patton tried his absolute hardest to not laugh next to him. He mostly succeeded.
Virgil was not phased.
“Also, fun fact, even though we can’t actually participate or win, me and Roman can also get points. Because we’re just superior to you guys in every way. We have pretty general rules here, no changing the answer, no physical fighting, no attempted murder, the usual things. Basically just don’t break our monopoly rules and we’ll probably be fine.”
“We’re also not going to win anything.” Patton wondered how long Virgil and Roman had rehearsed this for them to be this in sync. “This is obviously just for fun. No need to get too competitive. I’m looking at you Logan.”
“That’s bold coming from the guy who played checkers with Janus for five hours because he refused to stop until he won a game.” Remus called out.
“That’s not what we’re talking about right now.” Roman replied “And honestly, you would have too if you saw how close I was. There were so many times I almost won. We tied at least-”
“ANYWAYS!” Virgil interrupted him. If Roman started rambling now they would never actually play. “That’s all we have to say. We might add or change some rules later on if things are too chaotic.”
“Right, right. Okay! With that all out of the way, let the games begin!”
A happy little tune that sounded somewhat similar to the ending of a looney toons episode played, and the lights flickered on again.
There was silence for a moment in the debate room, and then Virgil spoke quietly.
“So… how was that?”
“Guys that was amazing!! Oh my goodness I loved it!!” Patton was practically vibrating on the spot from pure excitement over the performance that the two of them just gave.
“Oh I absolutely despised the personal nicknames. Horribly kind of you.” Janus couldn’t seem to keep a smile off his face, clearly also very hyped up.
“I was not expecting the lightshow, I will admit. It was a brilliant choice to use that blackout period to change the scenery, we were all invested quite quickly.” Logan commented.
“Very good idea. We all look hotter than a hooker on a Friday evening in these clothes!” Was Remus’ response. An interesting complement, but a complement nonetheless.
Their judges were clearly happy with the positive reception, Roman hardly able to keep still in his chair and Virgil’s eyeshadow glowing a bright, glittery purple.
“Then let us not waste any more time! Onwards, to the competition!”
Patton let himself relax into a more comfortable standing position, as the category of the first questions were announced.
They would have an absolute blast playing this, he was sure. He just wondered if it would get as chaotic as their previous family times.
———
Everything instantly fell apart.
Well, instantly was a bit of a stretch. Everyone behaved for at least five minutes, usually the game nights spiral downhill as soon as it starts!
Patton just needs to keep looking at the positives. If not, he might literally explode.
“THUMBS both ARE and ARE NOT FINGERS, ROMAN. Some people, especially those in the medical field, do refer to them as such for simplicity's sake, but the truth is that the answer to that question is SUBJECTIVE. They have a DIFFERENT ANATOMY, ROMAN. I DID NOT ANSWER INCORRECTLY.”
“LOGAN THE QUESTION WAS HOW MANY FINGERS MICKEY MOUSE HAS. IT ISN’T THAT COMPLICATED.”
“DEFINE A FINGER FOR ME ROMAN. DEFINE IT. TELL ME WHAT A FINGER IS. IS A THUMB A FINGER TO YOU? IS IT? DOES EVERYONE HERE CONSIDER A THUMB A FINGER?”
Remus raised his hand lazily, pretending to not find this entire situation hilarious. “I don’t think a thumb is a finger. It’s a digit.”
“REMUS STOP SUCKING UP TO LOGAN LIKE THAT FOR MORE POINTS-”
It was honestly sort of amazing that they’d managed to start screaming at each other so quickly. They hadn't even gotten to the actual “debate for points” questions. These were just regular trivia. And yet they somehow managed to start a debate. About fingers.
When Virgil said that they could gain points by “giving a good argument”, Patton didn’t think he considered how far Logan and Janus were willing to go to convince the others that they were correct. Maybe he forgot that one debated for fun and the other liked to pretend to be a lawyer. This was bound to happen eventually.
Although, Patton wasn’t really focusing on that right now, but rather the fact that Janus was trying to change the points on the scoreboard behind them again.
“Jan! Stop that!” He whisper shouted.
“Stop what? I’m not doing anything.” He lied. Like a liar.
“Stop trying to give us points, we’re tied already, it doesn’t matter!”
Indeed, the two teams were tied at 30 points each, after seven questions. So far, they had been pretty simple, and the reason that their team didn’t have more points was because Virgil had randomly decided to subtract five from them, because he “felt like Janus was up to something. Nothing in particular but… something.”
He was right, obviously. Janus was trying to steal the question cards from the host table with one of his spare hands. But Virgil didn’t know that.
“No, you're right. I’m sorry sweetheart. There’s no point in cheating this early in the game, it’ll just make the others suspicious and make it harder to do so later on. I’ll save that one for later” Janus winked.
“That is not what I meant and you know it mister.” Patton crossed his arms, as if that would make Janus take him more seriously.
“Do I?” His mischievous smirk only seemed to grow.
“Yes! You do!”
“Sorry about that darling. I’ll get it eventually, promise.” Even if Patton wasn’t literally face to face with him right now, he would be able to hear the smirk in Janus’ voice.
“That’s-”
“FINE. YOU GUYS CAN GET TWO POINTS. IS THAT OKAY?”
“FINE.”
“FINE.”
Roman threw his hand up and the scoreboard behind them changed to show the numbers 30 - 32.
All four of the other sides just stared at the two of them.
“Okay, Virgil, what’s the next question?”
He looked Roman up and down, squinted, and then looked away.
“Uh… when did snow white come out.”
“Alright. JANUS.” The deceitful side jumped slightly, then turned to Roman, smoothing out his outfit as if it never happened.
“Right. What’s the question?”
“Minus five points for not paying attention.”
“Wha- excuse me?” Janus stared at Virgil in shock. “That’s not fair-”
“Shoulda been listening dude. You keep forgetting that we can do that. Pay attention.” Virgil smirked at Janus’ barely concealed rage. “The question is what year Snow White came out.”
Janus rolled his eyes and crossed his arms. “Pfft, easy. 1957”
Roman stood up quickly, and in a dramatic gesture moved to point at Janus “HAH, WRONG! It was-”
“No, it’s not! It’s totally 1947! Are you just making stuff up to make me lose?”
Roman stared at him, immediately stumped. He spluttered out a “What? No! I promise it’s-”
But Janus was quick, and also an expert gaslighter. “Then did someone change the date on the flash card? Because it was definitely 1937! How could you get such an easy question wrong!?”
Roman’s mouth opened and closed a couple times, as if he was trying to refute the statement but couldn’t find the words.
“When did it come out then?”
Virgil rolled his eyes in response. “1937. Dude you were off by like twenty years.”
“No he wasn’t.” Remus’ voice. Yet again speaking purely to add on to this meaningless argument, adding flame to the fire. “He said 1937.”
Virgil looked at him like he’d grown four heads. “N- dude did you miss that entire conversation? He said 1957.”
“He did also say 1937, though.” Said Logan, as if he was helping them in literally any way. “Are we still counting it if he changes his answer before the actual answer is revealed? His final date was 1937.”
Roman just stood there, trying and failing to process their questions. Virgil answered for him.
“We. We’re not accepting that. Final decision. We’re the hosts here, and he’s not getting any points.” Then he turned to glare at Janus again. “Matter of fact, minus five points for trying to trick us.”
Now it was Janus’ turn to splutter, exclaiming various forms of “what the hell, Virgil?” and “why??? Just why???”
Patton sighed, leaning down to lay his head on his stand.
“Patton! This next question is for you!”
He snapped his head up to look at them, smiling on instinct. “Yeah! I got this!”
“I thought it was one question per team-” Logan tried to interject but Roman steamrolled over him.
“How many years was Genie from Aladdin trapped in the magic lamp?”
“Oh! Uhh… like a hundred thousand years right? It was a really long time!”
Roman looked at his card, then at Virgil. He just shrugged. “Close enough.”
The princely side turned back to Patton, a beaming smile on his face. “Great job popstar, 10 points for you! You’re doing fantastic!”
“Ten poi- he didn’t even get it right?!”
“Shush up Logan, he deserves it. Anyways, Remus!”
Patton found himself smiling as well. The fact that his kiddos would give him points even when he got it wrong, ah he loved them so much!
He looked over to see what Janus thought, only to see him quickly turn away to look at their friends. He caught a glimpse of a smile on his face though, a moment of fondness in his expression.
And then Patton found himself smiling a whole lot more.
It was nice. This was nice. Maybe a little bit chaotic, but when were they not?
Besides, it wasn’t that bad.
———
At some point during the trivia, Virgil and Roman had started to give themselves points. Which was fine, they had mentioned that they would do so at the start after all!
But then they started doing so increasingly often.
Like, every couple minutes often.
For things like how cute the other looked, or how smart they were, or how well they worked together.
And they gave each other a lot of points. Like, hundreds of points. Way too many points, considering the fact that it was over double the amount of points the two teams had combined.
So Remus and Logan, the competitive bastards that they were, of course immediately decided to comment on it and start a debate on whether it was appropriate to give each other points for things like “the color of their eyes” (Roman you can’t give your team points every time you look at Virgil because you think he’s pretty. If we could all do that then what is even the point of the point system in the first place?)
And the hosts immediately took offense, justifying it by saying that they were the ones in charge here, so obviously they got to decide what was and wasn’t a good reason to give someone points.
Which prompted Janus to start another debate about how unjust it was that the two of them were in complete control in this situation even though it was not through democratic election, thus making them the unofficial rulers of a self proclaimed biarchy.
To which they responded that since it’s not a government system, it doesn’t work like that.
And now they were talking about kingdom hierarchy, in the middle of a disney debate.
And yet again, Patton could not find reason to care, because Janus was once again attempting to change the scores in their favor.
“Jay! We said that you couldn’t do this!”
“We said? I think you mean you said, my dear. I never agreed to anything.”
Patton threw his head back tiredly. “Janus, that’s cheating. It’s not fair to the others! We aren’t even winning anything, there’s no need to keep trying to find ways to win!”
“Oh but Patton, I need to do something to assist you! After all, you’ve almost been carrying me this whole game!”
That was true. Virgil and Roman had tried their absolute hardest to find ways to discredit Janus’ every answer, and take away points from him at any chance they got. In direct juxtaposition, they gave Patton as many points as they possibly could, even for completely incorrect answers.
(Patton didn’t really know how to explain that the points didn’t really mean anything to him, and by now was answering wrong just to see how Janus would react when they gave him the points. The fact that they were somehow still above negative points was honestly just a bonus.)
“C’mon sugar, let me do this? Please?”
Well. If Janus was going to play it like that, then Patton was going to have to bring out the big guns as well.
He turned to him, opened his eyes, and gave him is best pouty face.
He saw the exact moment Janus’ face went from “smug flirting” to “oh no he’s cute”.
He had to fight to not blush at the way the snake looked at him.
(Janus couldn’t stop looking at his eyes, his lips, the soft curves of his face as he tried to win him over. Patton looked every bit like the sweetheart Janus kept calling him.)
He sighed, closing his eyes, and pretending that he wasn’t completely melting on the inside. “…I suppose it doesn’t matter that much. If it really upsets you, I’ll stop.”
Patton’s face split and without really thinking about it, he launched himself forwards to crush Janus in a hug.
Arms wrapped around him by instinct (too many arms for a normal person, probably, but Patton had always thought that more arms meant more comfort). He laughed out a small thank you, burying his face into Janus’ suit.
“Yes, yes, I’m amazing, I know. Go back to your stand, you’re making me look soft.”
Patton laughed at the comment, but did indeed stand up and go back to his podium (he didn’t mention the fact that despite the complaints, Janus didn’t try to separate himself from him until Patton did).
The others had been arguing for far too long now anyways.
“I’m just saying, we should definitely have guillotined more rulers! It would have fixed so many problems!”
Wait, what?
“Remus, that would be RIDICULOUS. They didn’t have the concept of free will, or rights back then. They just would have elected another bad ruler!”
“Guys what the hell are we talking about.”
The conversation died instantly. The four of them looked at each other, and then at Janus, and then back at each other.
“I uh… I have no clue.” Was Virgil’s reply.
Which was typical. And also understandable. But maybe not what they should be doing right now.
“…okay. Can we get back to trivia now. That’s… that’s like the only reason we’re here in this stupidly fancy room, still standing up, still killing my legs. Can we wrap this up please.”
Roman snapped into action, getting the cards and moving swiftly on to the next question.
“Right! Yeah! Y'know what, we’re going to do a couple flash rounds. Me and Virge will just call out some questions and whoever answers first and most accurately gets points. Good?”
They nodded.
The game continued.
———
“Order!” Roman called out in the loud room. “Order in the court! This is the FINAL question! Up for debate here my guys, gals and nonbinary pals. Completely subjective, alright?”
Everyone hushed up, ready to answer the final question.
“Who is the best Disney prince?”
“Flynn Rider.” Four voices called out simultaneously.
The hosts paused for a moment, before looking at each other, and then back at their contestants.
“Correct. Five hundred points for everyone. Good game!”
“Well, this was a miserable experience. I despised every part of it.” he smiled at Virgil and Roman, not out of mischief or irritation but of pure, unfiltered care. “Thank you for organizing this. It was wonderful.”
Patton nodded aggressively next to him. “Yeah!! We got super side tracked but by golly was it fun!”
Roman laughed, and Virgil’s eyeshadow seemed to brighten a few shades to match the pink growing on his cheeks.
“Yeah it was… it was fun or whatever.”
“It was enjoyable.” Said Logan from beside them. His voice was low, a little raw from how much yelling he did in the two hours they spent doing the trivia. “Even though it devolved quickly into something that was most definitely not trivia.”
“Maybe next time we should have another group host it.” Remus said. “Y’know, like the winners of this game get to choose a theme for the next time.”
All of them seemed to perk up a little at that idea.
“Who won?” asked Janus.
“Not you guys.” was Virgil’s immediate response.
Janus hissed at him. Virgil hissed back.
“Did we even count the points?” Roman squinted at the board behind them, as if closing his eyes would make the massive numbers on them make more sense.
“I believe you stopped trying to actually calculate it when you started adding thousands onto the board. Much less the millions.
Roman shrugged. “Eh. That’s fair. We don’t really know who won then. Maybe we can hold a vote or something.”
Logan hummed. “That would be appropriate.”
Patton felt a hand rest on his, atop his podium.
He smiled, and closed his eyes.
For a moment there was peace. The group was tired out, energy completely depleted after that rollercoaster of emotions.
“…Maybe Janus should be disqualified though. I would consider changing the question cards and the scoreboards quite an easy disqualifier.”
“He did WHAT.”
———
Maybe it was a little bit mean for Remus to tell Logan that Janus had cheated right at the end there. Everyone was tired after all, so there was no point in wasting any of their remaining energy on questioning how he did it.
But Remus was petty.
And Janus did try to mess with his score.
All is fair in love and war.
Besides, who would he even be if he didn’t try to cause a little chaos right at the end?
He looked over at the other sides from his spot in between his and Logan’s podiums, bent in a position that would probably be impossible, if he weren’t an imaginary person who could make his spine disappear if he wanted to.
Janus was trying to justify himself to a group of three angry light sides, although it was clear that most of that effort went into trying to explain his methods to Patton. Said moral side was making an attempt to scold him that would probably be more effective if he looked in any way mad, and not just like his kitty had clawed up his favorite couch cushion. Roman and Virgil were leaning together in their seats, heads leaning on each other and holding hands.
He turned to look at his teammate. Logan stood resting his elbows on the podium in a rare moment of relaxation. He was observing the “fight” just as Remus was before, but usual cold expression was replaced with a soft, happy smile.
Something about it made Remus’ heart squish strangely. Maybe he was having heart palpitations.
He untangled himself enough to poke Logan's leg with his foot.
“Psst.”
Logan turned to look down. The fondness remained on his face, albeit with a little bit of added confusion.
He looked really hot from down here, damn.
“What is it you need, Remus?”
“If you could see any marvel scene in real life right now, to study, what scene would it be.”
Logan furrowed his brow and tilted his head. “…Comic book or movie scene?”
Remus shimmied, moving around so that he could stand up.
“Either.”
Logan took a moment to think, looking away from him in concentration. “Hm… there’s a fascinating scene in the marvel comics where the Scarlet Witch removes the abilities of all mutants from planet earth, almost by accident, because she doesn’t want them and the humans to keep fighting. Although, I suppose that’s not exactly a visitable scene, since her powers are never really thought to be observable in that sense.” He looked at Remus again, who was now standing up. “I would want to see what Tony Stark’s lab looks like. I know most of the science there isn’t real by any means, but it would still be fascinating to see how he would theoretically create his suits and weaponry.”
That sounded really smart. And complicated. And like it would take a lot of effort.
Remus reached out and grabbed him by the hand.
And suddenly, they weren’t in Logan’s dreamscape anymore, but Remus’.
Although it didn’t look like what his dreamscape usually looked like.
There were tables and tables of tech all around them. Holograms and metal scraps and projects were laid out that looked incredibly similar to the ones in the original Marvel movies. There were some odd choices of weapons, for sure, some of them seemingly old fashioned and not at all what would actually be in Ironman’s lab.
It didn’t matter.
And it didn’t matter how much energy it took Remus to make the room. Or how much his head hurt trying to remember basic mechanics so that he could make anything here believable.
None of it mattered.
It was all worth it, for the way Logan screamed in happiness.
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intrulogicalweek · 10 months
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Running Prompt List
Last chance to add your Intrulogical Week prompt ideas before the poll tournament starts tomorrow night! (June 14.)
orange
beaker
experiment
hypothesis
listen to me
nerd
Halloween
birthday
quiet
tentacles
books
edible
secrets
hiding
slime tutorial
un-birthday
appreciation
truth or dare
clean up
drag
date or dates
rock n roll
music
glasses
bullies
sexuality
stress
stimming
pen
favorites
animals
Last updated 6/2/23 - 9:30 AM PDT
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Keep 'em coming!
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virgil-my-emo-son · 3 months
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New fic! Intrulogical college au hurt/comfort :)
requested by @typically-untypical !
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lost-in-thought-20 · 1 year
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OH i see you take prompt requests? 👀 if it's alright, i'd love anything where remus comforts logan after a fight with the other sides. like, all sides and thomas were in the same room and someone says something that causes logan to panic and sink out.
maybe it's in remus' perspective (still third person!) and he's like. is anyone gonna check on him. and everyone else is like Why tho (except janus, he's just scared to lose favor from the other sides so he nudges remus to go check).
your choice on what remus does, but i'd def love it if it's established that they're... not really close, still kind of bite-ish, but remus helping does start a spark of a friendship.
I KNOW VERY SPECIFIC REQUEST BUT YEAH TAKE UR TIME IF U DO IT IK ITS A LOT AJSIENSNS - @intrulogical
Thank you so much for your request!! I apologize it took a while, I ended up writing this in one go on a sick day so I hope it turned out into something you like <3 Not all conflicts are resolved in this, so it leaves some questions and problems unfinished, but it does open a dialogue between Remus and Logan. I'm kinda low on energy today but I hope you'll like this <3
Warnings: Swearing, blood, minor injuries, innuendo, broken glass, yelling, crying, food, mentions of gore and Remus-esque imagery but nothing too graphic.
Word count: 4,243 (whoops-)
[Read on AO3]
...
It was meant to be a prank.
And a pretty harmless prank at that. With harmless, of course, meaning ‘boring’.
Maybe that was why Remus didn’t bother participating in this one. His traps and pranks were a lot more fun to design and execute. His arsenal ranged from the more explicitly gross kind that had the losers all pulling the best and ugliest faces, to the most exquisitely convoluted Rube Goldberg-contraptions which were so thrilling to see in action.
Remus had higher standards than this shit Roman and Virgil had called a ‘joke’. 
…Nah, that wasn’t true. Remus didn’t have standards. He just had moods and preferences.
And now, he wasn’t in the mood for dorky, boring pranks to spice up. He was in the mood to watch them suck at it and fail horribly.
Logan being the victim of this one had nothing to do with it – no, maybe, definitely, yes. No. Maybe. Because Remus couldn’t deny Logan’s reactions had always been pure gold.
He had a soft spot for making his twin squeal or seeing Vee go white from fear, but the nerd had such a stale and stoic and snobby face by default that any emotional response from him to any prank was hilarious.
Definitely worth the watch.
So Remus had dangled himself upside down with his legs wrapped around the ceiling lamp, munching on his deodorant and watching Roman and Virgil replace the contents of Logan’s Crofter’s with reddish purple paint.
And like, it hardly even looked like jam. If they wanted it to look like jam, they would have had to use guts or intestines or something with texture. But no, of course the Lights had to keep it PG-rated.
It hadn’t fooled Logan, either. He had walked sluggishly into the kitchen that afternoon, after Virgil and Roman had left to chill on the couch, peeking over the kitchen counter to gauge Logan’s reaction.
…And boy, was it a reaction.
Now, they all knew Logan’s adoration for the jam brand. There was no denying that played a role. But a reaction of this scale was one Remus had never seen before.
Well, not in reaction to a harmless prank like this one, anyway. Not even to one of the pranks Remus would be most proud of.
Logan had grabbed the jar from the fridge and stared at it, his expression blank. Remus had squinted his eyes to try and see his face, which was hard when the world was upside down. The first thing that came clear into view was a shard of glass, flying past Remus’ ear and slicing his earlobe, when Logan had smashed the jar against the kitchen tiles.
It had been a loud bang, the jar shattering on impact, and Remus dabbed his ear to feel the little drops of blood flowing from it. 
Impressive.
Naturally, the initial shouting frenzy had been about the issue at hand - the jar of paint where Lo-Lo’s beloved jam should be. Logan’s voice had gone shrill from the volume he used, rounding everyone up and declaring to know who was the culprit. Remus had seen Roman and Virgil go completely pale on the couch, being the last to join Logan in the kitchen.
Remus didn’t bother moving. This was a funny spot to be in. He had seen Logan pointing at him, his eyes frenzied and big and saliva at his mouth and seething that he had to get down there and clean up this mess.
Remus, bluntly honest as he was, denied any accusations and immediately pointed out the actual culprits. Part of him would have enjoyed seeing Roman and Virgil sweat to lie themselves out of this situation, but surprisingly, they gave in quickly.
They must have not calculated for Logan’s explosive response.
Well, none of them had.
Patton seemed frozen for five solid minutes before he attempted to calm Logan down, and even Janus seemed visibly displeased with how the nerd’s voice was tearing through his eardrums.
Remus relished in it, honestly. He hadn’t seen an explosion of emotion like that, since…
…since Logan’s last time.
In a matter of minutes, Logan’s screeching rant devolved into something bigger. It was no longer about his jar of Crofter’s, it wasn’t about the prank.
“I ask you to respect ONE of my belongings and you IGNORE it!”
“Have you EVER considered growing the HELL up?!”
“Why am I the ONLY reasonable presence around here?!”
“I am so FED UP with you immature, irrational imbeciles!” 
Remus had almost started getting used to the brutally and aggressively honest screams grinding his ears, when they suddenly stopped.
And now Remus was hanging there, ear bleeding and his blood dripping down, right on his twin’s shoulder. Not that Roman noticed; just like the others, he was frozen in shock and disbelief as everyone gawked at their not-so-stoic nerd.
“...Logan, please,” Patton whimpered, the first to speak up after a few seconds of silence safe for Logan’s heaving. “...please stop yelling.”
Logan let out a long sigh and stared Patton down. It was hard to see when the world had been tilted 180 degrees, but Remus could swear he saw a recognizable fire being lit in Logan’s eyes.
“...Fine. I’m done with you all, anyway.”
Without granting any of them another look, Logan marched his way through them and headed upstairs. 
The silence lasted for another 30 seconds, till a door was forcibly shut down the hallway.
“Well… wasn’t that interesting.” Janus hummed, and Remus snickered at how Janus appeared to not give a single fuck. Instead, Janus turned to Roman and Virgil, “...What a fantastic prank the two of you pulled. I imagine this is a better reaction than you could have dreamed of.”
“Y-You shut the hell up..!” Virgil snarled back at him. “It was just… W-We didn’t mean for him to-”
“It was just a prank, bro!”
Remus felt himself being called, and jumped down from the ceiling lamp to land right behind his bro. He slammed his hands on his shoulders, one now nice and juicy from his own blood he’d dripped on there, “And lemme tell ya, Lo’s reaction was way beyond what you dorks’ prank deserved! Next time you want to pull a real prank, ask for my advice.”
Roman scowled and pushed his brother off him, “...never! As if you’ve never pissed him off like that!”
Patton didn’t even have the resolve to call Roman out on his bad potty language, being too busy trying not to cry. Boohoo. 
“I’ve never made him go off like that, Ro-bro,” Remus said with a sly tone, glaring at Roman with a knowing and accusatory grin. “That’s all you.”
It seemed to have the unsettling effect Remus was going for, only not for long. As Roman tried to brush off his shoulder pads, he noticed the blood and scoffed. “Wha- what is this?!”
Remus giggled, before squeezing into his earlobe and feeling more blood drip out.
How the look on Roman’s face morphed into one of pure disgust made Remus crack up. Roman gagged, “Y-You disgusting piece of-...!” He groaned and almost whined, running upstairs as well. 
Now, there were only four left.
“...O-Okay, okay, okay…” Patton muttered to himself, rubbing his hands over his face and underneath his glasses. “Virgil, you’re gonna help me clean the kitchen, kiddo, okay? We’re gonna clean this up, now.”
“P-Pat, I…” Virgil was struggling to find another excuse, while Patton appeared to be close to shattering himself. Or, shitting himself. Remus would like to see both, actually. “...We didn’t think he’d react like that… It was just a-”
“Virgil. You’ll help me clean the kitchen. NOW.”
Patton’s sudden shift in tone seemed to have made Virgil obey, and he flinched before nodding. They quietly entered the kitchen and got to cleaning.
Meanwhile, Janus let out a tired sigh and proceeded to walk away.
“Jannie?” Remus turned and went to trail behind him, trying to gauge his reaction. “...C’mon, what did ya think? That was pretty crazy, wasn’t it? You think we can use this against them, somehow? You think – ”
“I think…”
Janus snatched a book from the bookshelf, before situating himself in his favorite nook on the couch. “...I would much rather not involve myself into the repercussions of such childish pranks. Here I was, thinking Logan would be the only Side here not giving me a daily headache…”
He immediately dug his nose in his book, which couldn’t help but surprise Remus in a way. He and Janus had talked about how Logan was a nice target to surveillance, maybe even win him over to their side. This seemed like a prime opportunity.
“You mean, you’re not gonna talk to him?” Remus asked, and Janus looked up with a both indifferent and annoyed look on his face. “...Not gonna try the old emotional manipulation you’re so good at? To be honest, I think you can even convince him by giving him some snake di-”
“On any other opportunity, I would love to plant some seeds of doubt in Logan’s head…” Janus sighed as he turned back to his boring old book. “...but my head is currently pounding and my poor heart is in dire need of rest. So please keep yourself busy, while I do the same.”
Remus pouted. He knew part of the reason he was disappointed must have been because he couldn’t plot and scheme with Janus. He loved plotting and scheming with Janus. But his buddy seemed to be in a mood of not wanting to engage with anything or anyone.
Remus grinned as he reminisced about how similar Virgil and Janus could still be, without them realizing.
“Sooo, no one is gonna check on him?” Remus perked his head up and glanced upstairs. He hadn’t heard another kick from either Roman or Logan, who were supposedly up there.
“That’s what it seems like, doesn’t it?” Janus said in a tone that indicated he wasn’t gonna talk for much longer. “Anyway, your presence is intruding on my ability to enjoy this book,” he said mockingly in Logan’s tone. “If you do so wish to check up on the condition of the self-important, pretentious nerd that I am, be my guest.”
Remus snickered at Janus’ dramatics, before squeezing his earlobe shut again to stop the bleeding. He pondered on it for a moment, and figured with nothing else to do, he might as well sneak a peek.
He couldn’t help but be intrigued by that reaction… There had to be more behind that. Maybe he was a little jealous that he couldn’t elicit it from one of his own pranks.
“...Eh, why not.” 
Remus shrugged, and played off the weird pull he felt towards Logan’s room as his familiar morbid curiosity.
Curiosity for the deepest thoughts and darkest pits of the human mind. The rawest emotions which lay bare the ugliest truths about oneself.
That was what Remus glimpsed in Logan just now.
And he had to know more.
...
After fixing up his ear with some tape, before realizing it would make for a pretty sick place to put an earring, Remus whistled as he made his way to Logan’s room. Patton and Virgil still seemed to be cleaning, and Roman had started blasting some Disney classics from his room to drown out his wails of disgust, no doubt.
With a bounce in his step, Remus approached Logan’s room and even politely knocked on the door. “Oh, Lo-Lo? Room service!” he called through the door.
No response.
“...I can serve you some dick with a side of tentacle, if you’re into that~!” 
Still no response.
“Sheesh, I’m giving you my best material here,” Rems huffed, before grabbing hold of the door handle. He rattled it - locked. Odd. Logan never locked his door. 
“If you wanna keep your door in one piece, open it now!” Remus waited a solid five seconds for a reply, which didn’t come.
He shrugged, “Welp, warned ya.” He stepped back a bit, stretched his legs, and prepared for the Big Kick.
…but as he heaved his right leg in the air, something stopped him from kicking in the door.
There was no response.
It would be kinda lame to kick in the door and get no response, right?
He’d want Logan to get angry with him, like he did downstairs. No reaction wouldn’t be worth it. And there was only one door to Logan’s room.
Well, he could always conjure up another, but that was beside the point. It had been a while since Remus had practiced his craft of lockpicking anyway.
He wiggled an old, trusted paperclip out of his pocket, and began wiggling in the lock. It was an easy one, so he opened it with ease. He let himself in and didn’t bother locking the door behind him. The others had made it clear they had no intention of getting involved with the aftermath of Logan’s outburst, anyway.
Before anything, Remus was greeted with a familiar sickness rummaging in his head and stomach. The kind of thoughts that stabbed his belly and raged in his skull, pouring inside him through the pores in his skin and the smell of intrusive thoughts reeking from Logan into Remus’ nostrils.
It smelled sweaty and bloody and rusty and even moldy. Like it had been sitting there, rotting and boiling for a while.
Remus wanted to save that smell for himself, so he shut the door behind him. 
Logan was on his bed, curled up on his side, with his back to Remus. 
“...that fetus position is not gonna stop the thoughts from pouring out of you,” Remus commented as he got closer, parking his ass on the bed next to Logan’s head. “You reek of ‘em, by the way. You really blew off some steam back there, huh?”
No response.
Remus sighed. “This kinda reminds you of something, doesn’t it? That heart-to-heart we shared a while ago?” He leaned in closer to Logan’s ear, imagining what it would look like all torn up like his own ear had gotten.
“...Anything in common? Anything else you wanna get off your chest? Be honest… It’s just us…”
No response.
No, wait. Logan seemed to shiver a little at having Remus’ breath enter his eardrum. Remus grinned and leaned closer, “...you had such a raw explosion of emotions there, Lo. What tasty thoughts and feelings are you hiding in there, hm..?”
“...away…”
Response. Remus leaned back a bit to make sure he heard correctly.
Logan’s form shifted and his chin moved closer to his chest, “...go away.”
“Go away?” Remus snorted, “You’re the one who called me here, Lo-Lo! Well, indirectly, I would have come anyway even if your stench didn’t pass underneath the door. But it would have reached me sooner or later! You can pretend all you want with them, but you can’t hide those raw emotions from me.”
“I told you-... to go away.”
Logan didn’t seem to get the message that that wasn’t how Remus worked. Tell him to go away and he’d stick with you for another hour. The more one would deny him, the more ferocious he’d come back.
“You’ll only make it harder on yourself, Lo…” Remus said as he placed a hand on Logan’s shoulder. “Come on, show me your pretty, sexy, snotty nerd face. Better to get it all out of your system now, pal.”
“N-No… I shouldn’t-” Logan tried to erk away from Remus’ hold, but his body seemed to resist. He just trembled a bit more and shuffled around. Remus held his grip on Logan’s shoulder. 
“You should,” Remus indulged him. “What’s stopping you? Certainly not me! And not any of your so-called ‘friends’! It’s just you and me, Lo, what do ya got to lose with being a little honest-!”
Growing impatient now, Remus gave Logan’s shoulder a good ol’ yank to roll him on his back.
And… somehow, despite what just happened, he hadn’t expected that reaction.
Logan was rubbing his palms over his eyes, and his body gave in to its shocks and shivers even more violently. The glimpses Remus had gotten of Logan’s face showed him that Logan’s eyes were red and wet, his cheeks drenched, and his glasses even sprinkled with tears next to his pillow. 
In an attempt to hold back his sobs, Logan choked on them leading his body to convulse even more. The way he was rubbing his eyes, it almost seemed like he was dragging his tears back into his skull.
“I-I shouldn’t… be crying…” Logan hiccuped as he laid there on his back, undeniably crying, and clutched the upper strands of his hair. “...j-just go away… I don’t want to feel like this…!”
Remus had assumed that any reaction he could have gotten out of Logan would have been enjoyable. It would be unexpectedly ugly and exaggerated and explosive, and it would be awesome to see it on the face of a guy who claimed he didn’t know emotion.
But… this wasn’t enjoyable to watch. Remus didn’t know what it was, as he sat back and watched Logan cry, but it wasn’t fun. It didn’t smell nice, either.
He felt a weird knot in his stomach. It felt wrong, somehow.
Logan covered his face with his arms and rolled on his side again, trying to hide and curl up. Remus was quiet for longer than he had ever been in a while.
There was something wrong about this.
“...It doesn’t work like that.” Remus shuffled back on the bed and folded his legs, leaning his back against the wall of the room. “Look, hate to be the one to break it to you, but emotions don’t work like that. You can’t just wish they go away and expect them to actually go ‘poof’! Not without consequences, anyway. And we both know Thomas is too much of an emotional wreck to just ‘poof’ his emotions like you want them to.”
Logan didn’t stop crying. Remus decided he much preferred seeing screaming Logan than crying Logan.
“Ya know, I’m no science nerd like you,” Remus said as he nudged Logan in his back with his hand. “But I bet you I can list off a bunch of pretentious nerds stating that’s it’s actually healthy to – ”
“...go away!”
Logan’s voice sounded hoarse, lacking any power or authority, when he suddenly shot up and sat on folded legs to face Remus. 
“Y-You don’t know anything! These thoughts and f-feelings don’t belong here… take them away,” Logan sobbed and he slammed a fist against his chest as another hand pulled on his hair. “Make them go away… I shouldn’t be f-feeling or t-thinking any of this…”
Remus was quiet again, looking at Logan to figure out how he felt about seeing him like this. It wasn’t fun. It felt wrong, somehow. And…
“Hey.”
Logan hit himself in the chest and on the head again, before his snotty and ugly crying face glanced up in Remus’ direction. “Again, I’m not the sharpest tool in the she-ed…” Remus shimmied his shoulders a little, giggling. He didn’t know why he did that. It felt weird, seeing Logan cry. It made him feel all icky, for some reason.
“But anyway, I thought out of all of us, you’d be the one to know I can’t make those thoughts and feelings go away,” Remus shrugged. “And neither can you. I told you, our Thomathy is an emotional wreck. And we’re all part of him, so…”
He gestured for Logan to finish the sentence, but he just sobbed again and looked away. Remus sighed curtly, “...soooo all of us are an emotional wreck. Well, to some degree, I guess. I’ve never seen Jannie bawl his eyes out like you do, but maybe he’d be the type to cry on the toilet where no one notices…”
Logan dropped his arms next to him now, his breathing still erratic and tears soaking his bed. 
“...Anyway! We all got feelings, because Thomas does. You got feelings too, and thoughts, and all that good and ugly and raw and explosive shit all humans got! Isn’t it cool? Isn’t it something to dig your teeth into and pull apart and discover what makes you tick?”
That must have rather been one of Remus’ motivations, because Logan seemed to scowl and shook his head. He rubbed his eyes again, “No… I-I’m Logic. I can’t be-... influenced by these… I have to do my job, I-...”
“You can’t make your feelings go ‘poof’, Lo-Lo,” Remus shimmied closer to him, feeling weirdly accomplished from being the intelligent-sounding one for a change. “Thomas has feelings, and so do you.”
“T-That doesn’t make any…”
“Look, I’m not that smart, don’t get me started on how all our functions work and who’s in charge of what and who feels what, ‘cause honestly I think that’s mostly a load of bullshit.” Logan’s sniffles and sobs sometimes interrupted Remus’ attempt to sound intelligent, and that must have been the reason why he put his hand back on Logan’s shoulder.
Maybe. Yes. No. Definitely.
“And feelings and thoughts can seem like a load of bullshit too, and it’s a whole nasty can of worms to dig into, lemme tell you,” Remus ranted on, squeezing Logan’s shoulder a bit. “But that’s also part of being human. It’s part of our human, and it’s part of you. And me, and those dorks downstairs. And what it comes down to is a bunch of chemical processes and reactions in your brain, right? Which translates to sensations in your body and heart and- you get the idea. Of course you do, you’re a lot smarter on this shit than me!”
Logan rubbed his eyes again, as his breathing slowed down a little.
“...And that’s pretty cool, you know! You know your shit! And Jannie was right to say you’re probably the most reasonable of the bunch. Even with the way you exploded earlier, you still are, in my honest opinion. You know, for a while I was worried there really was nothing more to you than robotic calculations and rationality and all that crap. But there is so much more to you! You’re like your whole… human! Isn’t that cool? Isn’t that something worth digging into?”
Logan removed his hands from his face and gave Remus a weird look. One Remus couldn’t place. It was almost pathetic, but… not in a pathetic way. Logan sniffled and looked down, “...it hurts… And I-I don’t understand it. A-And it doesn’t matter, t-they don’t care. They never did.”
Now, Remus felt something else.
It had felt weird and wrong and pathetic-but-not-pathetic and… a knot in the stomach again.
Remus didn’t know what that feeling was. But at least he had something in common with Logan now.
…That felt nice, he supposed. Maybe those words could have been something Remus could have said. Or the thoughts in his head might have said. That nobody cared and nothing mattered and it hurt. He stopped caring about all that long ago, but… maybe for Logan, he was just beginning to face all that. Face those thoughts and feelings and demons that came with being human.
Maybe Logan was a little bit like Remus.
“I do.”
Logan’s eyes widened, and then he frowned. Remus realized what he said and thought about it again, “...I think. Yeah, no, definitely. Maybe, fuck it. Feelings are a mess. See? I’m a prime example. But regardless, I’m here because I was curious. Because I wanted to know what was up. Because I… cared, I think.”
Logan let out something between a sob and a chuckle, and held his face in his hands. 
“And hey, now we’re two emotional wreck who don’t know what their feelings are. And I gotta say I’m pretty curious about that beef you got going on with the others… How about we find out and dig deeper? Hm?”
Remus thought he was being quite considerate, and even felt his heart jump a little at the prospect of having another heart-to-heart with Logan.
Logan let out a long breath, and held his head high again.
His face was still wet, and red, and puffy, and messy. He was still sniffling and sobbing and snotty. But… he was also smiling.
“...What am I doing?” he chuckled despite himself, wiping his cheeks. “This is pathetic.”
“Nah, it’s not pathetic,” Remus shook his head resolutely. “It’s being human. You’d be surprised how many messy and wrong and weird feelings get blended into a human. Especially our human. But enough about him - let’s talk about you. What makes you tick? What made you yell at them the way you did, because holy shit, did you go off! Tell me all about it!”
Remus leaned forward and grabbed his ears with his hands, feeling the tape fabric around his right earlobe. “I’m all ears!” he smiled at Logan.
And Logan smiled back.
Remus felt something else. Like a thread pulling on his heart as if it was connected to Logan’s. Like their pounding muscled organs were exchanging mutual feelings and thoughts with each other.
Compassion. Empathy. Connection.
All kinds of fancy names for emotions neither Remus or Logan had the proper knowledge to understand yet. But they’d get there, Remus had a hunch.
Logan nodded, “...okay.” 
And Remus’ heart made another weird little jump that he didn’t know to even begin to understand, as Logan murmured, “Thank you.”
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officiallunatic · 3 months
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It's the Merry Crisis update wahoo
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mimssides · 5 months
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Three Glasses in A Room
Patton sees things through sky blue-tinted glasses. It's a sharper image than others would imagine. It's sharp enough to see the little freckles of warmth shining through Logan's seams. Warmth that isn't his. Will Patton be able to see through this or will the blue betray him?
Link to the story on AO3 | Masterpost | Taglist
Something had changed in the mindscape. The air had shifted, a tension, different from the one before, lay over them all.
Not that it was stronger. It had been so very tense for ages. No, it was that the quality of the tension had changed. A shift from desperation and frustration to resentment and – rage.
As Patton walked through the living room, he could smell it; the sweetness of concealed anger and the rich chocolate note of unspoken declarations of hate. He smiled weakly as Virgil walked past him. The side didn’t bother looking and Patton was somewhat relieved in his disappointment. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to fool Virgil into believing everything was just dandy with him.
Probably Virgil wouldn’t have cared to begin with. Which was not a train of thought that would be helpful to follow through, Patton reminded himself and took a deep breath. He had other things to do and would do them. Yes, today he had a goal in mind and headed to the kitchen.
His eyes went to the spot where Janus and Logan had stood the evening after the latest date with Nico. He remembered how Logan had told him that he could handle himself. Which was true. Logan had always been capable of defending himself if needed.
But there had been something that didn’t quite fit. He turned to prepare coffee. Logan might have asked him to leave, so he could deal with Janus himself. That wasn’t unusual. He wanted to have some privacy during conversations he felt unsure about. Also, not unusual for him.
He got out his white mug and took the light grey one out, with the Leo constellation. The little stars on it were labelled, Regulus the biggest since it was the brightest, and the grey would turn a dark blue when hot liquid was put inside. Casually, Patton pulled out the sugar from the top shelf and put a smile on as certain steps entered the kitchen.
“Heya ki- Logan!” Patton greeted his fellow side.
Logan bowed his head with a polite “Salutations.” His eyes drifted to the two coffee cups.
“I made enough for us both. Would you like a cup?” Patton asked as he took the coffee jug out of the station.
“That would be satisfactory.”
Patton filled Logan’s and then his own cup. He put the sugar and milk on the table and sat down. Carefully he watched Logan and patted on the table when he didn’t follow. Logan met his gaze and followed his request. He sat down with his cup.
There was intent in that gesture. There was always intent in Logan’s gestures. There was always a goal in his mind. It just never was an agenda. It wasn’t to manipulate or get people to go his way. Logan was obvious and upfront with what he wanted. Well, not about what he emotionally wanted or required but otherwise it was clear what his actions were supposed to accomplish.
But in his eyes sparked a will to win when he talked to Janus. In his eyes sparked defiance as he sat down with him just now.
Logan didn’t have an agenda.
“Do you mind if I reminisce for a second?”
The side tilted his head to the side and nodded. He moved his free hand in a reassuring gesture.
“This cup-” he pointed at the one in the other side’s right hand - “-was a gift about five Christmases ago. I gave it to you because you’re our brightest little star. You rolled your eyes at it, but you liked the pun.”
“Debateable.”
Patton laughed a little and looked at the mug.
“You don’t use it very often. I wondered why,” Patton said and tapped his fingers on the table, “Remember what you told me?”
The side furrowed his brows, and he looked down at the mug. He drew his hand away from it, looked at it and eventually: “Washing it too often would damage the print of it.”
“That’s all?”
The side’s eyes went from the cup back up to Patton. His mouth fell open for a millisecond before he closed it.
“I did like the pun?”
Patton’s face fell a little. But he was right. At least once he was right. Very gently he reached over the table and taped the hand of the other side.
“Logan did like the pun after a little bit. After I showed him the true glow.”
The side’s hand never pulled back from Patton. The gaze was a little unsteady. Suddenly it focused. He looked up to Patton, the voice slightly changed but not quite away yet.
“They are glow in the dark stars.”
Patton smiled.
“Mhm. You figured that out quickly.”
The calculated expression, the stoic tension in the jaw, they fell and were taken over by barely concealed rage and defiance. Somehow that felt more reassuring than the silent treatment Virgil and Roman had graced him with the past weeks.
“Is he save?”
He began to growl. Quick as the wind, Patton reached over the table taking both of his hands and shook his head. Here was not the place to make a scene.
“He’s with you willingly. I see that. I don’t need reassurance that you did this according to his wishes. I just -”
Patton looked to the door. He pulled his hands back and gulped.
He’s scared for Lo. He’s straight-up scared that what they’ve done has damaged him permanently.
Wide-eyes Patton stared at the side. First, the side seemed confused then he heard in his head: That’s not supposed to hap-
The side shook his head and pressed his hands against his head. The connection had broken, and their heads were theirs again. The side took a sip of coffee and glared at the floor before he focused back on Patton. Patton was hugging himself and eyed him warily.
“Do you want to check on him?”
A pause.
“Would he let me?”
The side understood. He looked to the right and sniffed his nose with an angry grunt. He closed his eyes and listened. He got his answer and turned back to Patton.
“He’d like you to be there if you respect his right to throw you out again as soon as he wishes. And if you won’t, I’ll make sure you will.”
There was a treacherously big amount of hope in Patton’s eyes at that threat.
“No need for that Anger. I’ll cooperate. I’ll do anything if I – if he’d like to give me the chance to just spend a little time with him.”
Anger eyed him thoroughly through the mask of Logan’s face. What must he have said, must he have done to gain such trust, Patton mused and followed as Anger stood. The act of impersonating him and taking Logan’s place couldn’t have any good connotations for him. That he let Anger do it spoke for itself. Or for how bad of a job Patton and the others had done to care for their fellow side.
They were going down the hallway, almost at the spot where one could cross over to the dark side of the mindscape. Patton stopped as Anger did and listened with him. No one was close by. Anger did the next step. Patton followed. The light changed somewhat, the décor got darker, and some spiderwebs made Patton’s heart beat faster.
But all in all, it wasn’t scarier than any thriller Virgil watched on a rough night. Still, he was grateful when Anger reached for his hand without looking and pulled him along. He had also dropped his disguise and was now wearing his own face again. He was a similar height as Patton was, Patton realised and looked at the orange hoodie. It looked rougher than Virgil’s. Heavier. He also wore a white T-shirt and grey gym shorts. And fluffy pink slippers with white socks?
How had Anger more of a dad outfit than him? Any further thought along the line died when he saw the doorway to the living room. Within he saw a similar layout to their own living room, but more importantly so, was the side sitting on the couch. In a dark grey shirt (a horror motive with several bite holes in the sleeves telling Patton exactly who this actually belonged to) and a pair of navy shorts with little white stars, Logan met his gaze.
It didn’t seem like those were the same eyes from before. Patton’s heart sunk but his expression softened. Logan’s hair was messed up from sleep, far greasier than he usually would let it become. The glasses were smudged, and his hands were slung around a plush ice bear.
Intently but without fear Patton stopped and waved gently at him. Logan’s eyes stayed warily on him but his shoulders relaxed as Patton forced his heart to beat slower and take the heat off of things. It would result in heartburn later, but for this, it was worth it.
“Heya kiddo.”
“Salutations Patton. I see you have uncovered Anger’s disguise.”
Patton nodded and looked at Anger. The side had walked between the two of them, arms crossed before his chest and a glare glued on Patton.
“Yeah, I did. I… Would you mind me asking a few questions? You don’t have to, I can leave or just sit and be here if you like. I’m already glad to know that you’re here and-“
“What are you doing? You didn’t come down here just to see me.”
Patton’s finger pads cooled. A tiny breeze twirled around him and then blew over to Logan, moving his hair gently. He motioned his hands to the other end of the couch. For a moment he just watched Logan for his answer. Eventually finding it. Softly Patton strode to the other end of the couch, sat, and looked at him.
“I think we’re both running on assumptions right now. May I make my intent clear, so you can decide to share yours or send me away?”
“That is acceptable.”
Patton bowed his head and folded his hands. He ignored Anger approaching Logan from the side and holding his shoulder protectively. He simply focused on the logical side and brought bitter mirth to his smile.
“I can see that you let Anger take your place. I’m- I’m ashamed to admit that I’m not exactly sure when you two swapped places, but I think that you were still present for the wedding. And I’m sorry for that. You- I don’t know if Anger told you, but I have apologized to you in a quiet moment for – for skipping you. I’m sorry that in my frenzy I believed that the only way to keep Thomas ‘morally righteous’ was to override logic. That was wrong of me.”
Patton paused. Logan’s face hadn’t changed. His hand on the couch had turned towards him and his ring finger twitched. Patton made a move to reach for it and halted. Logan came closer. So, Patton took his hand and continued as he squeezed it.
“I’m worried now,” Patton admitted and looked to his lap. “I know that there is more to your decision than I understand, but you go down here, so close to the subconscious, it seems dangerous and I would like to know what your plan is. And I would also like to know if you’re planning on telling us about this?”
Patton waited to look up again. He wasn’t sure if his angle had been right. He wasn’t sure if those were the words that would make Logan see what he was worried about. He wasn’t sure if he could stand Logan’s look if he was wrong again.
It was the light squeeze of his hand which made him look up in reflex. Logan’s eyes were unspeakably dark. Much darker than Thomas’ or those of any other side. Darker than the night sky, darker than shadows at noon, darker than the supply closet Thomas had been locked into for twenty minutes in sixth grade. And yet, Patton could see the tint of indigo in them and suddenly noticed the change in his expression. It was clearer, a bit more open than before and something in Logan’s eyes reminded him of his smile.
“Being here is as dangerous to me as it is to you. The subconscious has no use for me and my interest to be here had nothing to do with it in the slightest.”
Logan held his breath and looked at Anger. A conversation without words went on, then Logan’s eyes went back to Patton, and he pulled a bit closer to Morality.
“I have come to the realisation that I am rather overwhelmed with everything that has transpired before and after the wedding. I came here with a different intent but through their help,” - He pointed towards Anger and the hallway “I have found a different approach to hopefully better my situation. Anger has been a huge help and accommodated my needs and wishes dutifully. So far, our plan has been going well.”
Patton pressed his lips together. He could see that Logan was unwilling to give up details. Yet, he couldn’t be angry or disappointed in him. Now, after hearing Logan admit that he’d been overwhelmed he realised how much they had put him through. Tears began to well in the corner of his eyes and he turned his head away. Waveringly he pressed his hands over his nose and mouth and forced the sobs in his chest to stay down. He was far too good at doing that.
All was silent for a long time.
“I admit I feel conflicted about this.”
Patton’s voice was ringing through the room as if the walls were glass and ice.
“I’m glad you found someone to help you. I’m glad Anger is helping you and taking care of you. It does hurt that you had to go to someone else than us to find that relief though. We have- I have failed you. Correct?”
Logan mused for a moment. Then he reached over. Laid his arm around Patton’s back and pressed their sides together. He stared at the spot on the floor next to the one Patton was staring at.
“You did hurt me.”
Patton sniffled. He was about to press his hands over his mouth as Logan took them and squeezed them comfortingly. Tears rolled down Patton’s face. Icily they fell on his lap and Logan’s hand. Like shards, they pinged and wailed as they hit the ground. Yet the room was silent. The room stood still, unaffected by time and space and speed. Nothing happed.
“And I’ve hurt you too.”
Everything happened.
The room spun, light flickered, and the clocks began ringing. Anger looked at Morality’s red eyes, looking deep into his soul. Searching for the seed that had it all started, pulling at the threads that kept the mess from unravelling, poking at the sandbags which kept the water out of the city during a flood.
And Anger let him in anticipation of what he’d do next.
“You posed as him, but I still- I still was being inattentive to you in his form. I didn’t help you when Remus came to mess everything up. I- I should have tried to do something, to support you in a way that you needed. But I didn’t. And I never offered you help or a chance as yourself either. I neglected you because of my biases. I don’t know if I can ever make up for that. I’ll try. I’ll be open towards you when- if that is what you want me to do. And we’ll go from there if you let me.”
Anger was quiet for a moment. His expression was surprisingly hard to read and Patton wasn’t sure what that meant. He found himself feeling disappointed that he couldn’t understand the expression on Anger’s face. At how much he had removed this side from himself.
“Noted.”
Not the answer he hoped for. But probably better than he should have expected. He turned his attention back to Logan. He lifted his hand and stroked his cheek.
“Patton.”
Logan’s voice sounded something between annoyed and saddened.
“I know, I know.”
Patton lowered his hand and took a deep breath.
“I don’t appreciate that you essentially ran away from us. But I get it. I... I’m afraid it was a valuable solution to your situation. So, I’m not gonna say anything. I trust you know what you’re doing.”
“And if I don’t?"
A laugh. The eyes turned warm and trusting.
“Usually you do kiddo. And if you don’t, it won’t be a first.”
His voice sounded far more cheery than it ought to be. He stood and looked from Logan to Anger. Both could see the cogs in his head turning until they eventually halted and he settled on a much more solemn look. The smile though remained on his lips.
“I guess, I’ll see you when you’re ready?”
Logan nodded vaguely. Patton looked at Anger, who eyed him distantly. Patton settled for a light bow of his head and waved a last goodbye before he left.
___
Lucas let out a long breath. He hadn’t thought that Patton would be the one to figure him out first. Really, he had thought Virgil would be quicker but apparently, Anxiety was more hung up with Deceit than it was with Logic being off-kilter.
“Are you alright?”
Lucas huffed and plopped down next to Logan. He watched as he pulled off his glasses to clean the smudges with his shirt.
“How am I the priority here?”
“Oh, I expected them to find out eventually. I did wager that either Patton or Roman would see through it first. You, on the other hand, were unaware of my assumptions. And Patton was probably not the one you preferred to find out first, correct?”
For a long moment, Lucas just watched. There was this sharpness around Logan that he used to have back when they started filming. Something clean-cut and simple.
“You plan a lot more than you let on, huh?”
At this Logan smirked. It bore a bit of the charm from Janus, some of the cockiness from Virgil, but different. It was Logan’s confidence.
“I did. Well, I do. But I have improved considerably.”
“How so?”
Logan stood up and stretched. A sliver of his belly showed at the edge of his shirt. He found he didn’t mind and let his arms fall to the side. He turned and saw his reflection mirrored in Lucas’ glasses.
“Spending time with Impulsivity and Anger has taught me a thing or two about tactics.”
Lucas tilted his head in question.
Logan’s eyes glinted mischievously.
“Sometimes you just don’t need to give a figurative fuck. Sometimes, you just have to let them run into the wall they have built and let them tear it down themselves. So to speak.”
The words stuck along with Lucas. He couldn’t get to the bottom of them for a long time. He couldn’t understand, how Logan could be so relieved to see Patton again but at the same time was not willing to let him down gently.
Not when that evening Logan held Remus close to his chest as they watched a deep-sea documentary on the couch. Not when he gently revealed to Remus that Patton knew. That it was part of his plan for the others to figure it out themselves, and that it was probably for the best that Patton was the first to figure it out.
“Why’s the Dad Bitch our best option?
“Because his reaction to finding it out during a confrontation would be the most unpredictable. Roman lashes out verbally, which will be mean and uncalled for but essentially meaningless. He very rarely says things that he actually believes to be true in rage. Virgl’s anger might be more uncomfortable, but Roman, Patton and I have been able to shut him down if necessary. Patton’s bursts are far rarer, and they will hit on a much deeper level than the others. He figuring it out first is ideal. It is even better, as he has agreed to keep quiet about it, since he believes me to be capable enough to deal with this.”
Remus listened closely but didn’t bother to comment on it any further. Lucas heard Logan quietly whisper into Remus' neck during the rest of the night. He couldn’t quite decipher them but judging the tone it was meant to be encouragement. Whatever for Lucas didn’t understand.
___
“He’s never going to accept me.”
“He’ll have to.”
A sloppy wet kiss was placed on Logan’s nose. The logical side made a grossed-out noise and Remus snorted weakly.
“He won’t, little beetle”
“You don’t have all the facts.”
“Which are?”
“I love you.”
With how flatly Logan uttered the words, Remus couldn’t help himself but laugh out loud.
With a smirk Logan sat up on the bed. He watched the duke shake with laughter, pressed his hands against the sides of his chest and manoeuvred himself on top of Remus’ hips. His laughter was messy, unapologetic and loud.
It was also foremost so incredibly sincere.
“And to some extent,” he leaned down and kissed him gently on the still wiggling moustache, “he believes I make the right decisions.”
Logan needn’t say any more. Remus understood the implication. Understood that he was Logan’s good decision. But both of them knew that wasn’t really enough.
Patton needed to look at Remus and understand that he was worth more than what Logan thought of him. Then what he could do for Logan.
That Remus had the same potential to be “redeemed” as Deceit, Anxiety and Anger did. That sometimes not people needed to change but Patton needed to change his perspective to recognise that the person wasn’t bad to begin with.
And that sometimes “bad” things needed to be accepted too.
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Blush For Lunch
Summary: Logan finds a new diner that he decides to become a regular at, not necessarily just because the food is good
Warnings: food mention
Ships: Remus x Logan, Intrulogical
Word Count: 1,420
AO3 Link
A chaotic man with an immaculately cared for mustache was the first thought in Logan's head as he watched the waiter waltz between and around the tables of the cramped diner. Somehow keeping two trays balanced on each hand and a third on the left shoulder while he stood on his tiptoes and twirled around a stray bag, hair flopping messily into his eyes as he did so. He was mesmerizing, as cliché as that might be and Logan blushed as he ducked his head back down, hoping no one caught his staring.
Burying his face in the menu instead he searched for something simple and quick to eat as he worked through the stack of papers he had brought to grade. Being a teacher was a rewarding pursuit but the endless stream of paperwork was definitely something he could stand to do without. His shoes shifted and squeaked on the clean floors, making him appreciate the diner even more considering how many floors his shoes had stuck to rather than slid on. The menu had a variety of simple yet delicious sounding choices as well that the smells wafting around only exaggerated. Hopefully this would be a nice place to lunch at more often.
"Are you ready to order?"
A nasally but pleasant voice brought him out of his thoughts, bringing him face to face with the whirlwind if a waiter. His dark green eyes gleamed in the low light and Logan found himself speechless for all the vocabulary he drilled into his students.
"I uh-eyes."
For all his previous praise of the floor Logan found himself swearing at it profusely at the nerve of it not opening up and swallowing him whole. His face heated up as the waiter blinked and then laughed outright, plucking the menu from his hands. "Coming right up!"
Before Logan could even begin to guess what was happening the other was off with a swish of his hips, leaving him to wonder what exactly was going to end up on his plate. Fiddling with his tie he glanced around nervously as his face began to cool, thanking the stars no one had noticed the exchange.
Within a few minutes a plate was set in front of him with two larger mounds of what looked like fried rice with cartoonish pupils and irises drawn on them in some kind of sauce. The waiter beamed at him as he looked up in question, gesturing to the dish.
"Meat stuffed fried rice balls with hot sauce eyes drawn on!" He tilted his head to the side and frowned in thought. "In hindsight it's more akin to putting googly eyes on testicles but it's close enough."
By the time Logan had managed to process the comment the waiter was gone, back to darting in between tables. Idly he poked at the food in front of him while laughing quietly at the strange mans antics. Actually tasting it however made him appreciate whoever it was even more, as the hot sauce made the dish burst with flavor. Watching from the corner of his eye while the other served patrons made him smile into his plate, ungraded papers completely forgotten. He'd definitely be coming back here.
---
"You're back."
Logan snapped his gaze up from his work to meet the waiter's gaze, eyes twinkling from lights or amusement he couldn't say. Blushing slightly and adjusting his glasses Logan nodded.
"So? What'll it be this time?" The man gestured to the menu and Logan refused to admit he loved the others black glittery nail polish even if it was chipping. Carefully avoiding his gaze he handed the menu over and cleared his throat.
"I was hoping...you'd pick again? Usually I despise surprises but it was quite pleasant yesterday."
The server grinned wide. "Not gonna give me something to go off this time?"
Logan faltered for a moment. That smile...
Grinning even wider he took the menu and twirled away. "Won't be mine but I'm good at improvision!"
Logan gaped as he realized he must have actually said that out loud, once again turning him into a stuttering mess that quickly buried itself back into the paperwork with renewed vigor. Don't think about him, don't think about him, don't think, don't think-
Groaning he shoved the papers away and dragged a slow hand under his glasses. He hadn't had a feeling like this since...he actually couldn't remember. Everything that random waiter did was just another point on the growing list of reasons Logan was beginning to deduce meant he had feelings for the other. Even though that was impossible since they had only met twice and the other was only serving him food since it was his job but he would much rather be given his number than whatever it was he was going to bring out. Would it be inappropriate to write his number on the receipt? Did people still do that?
Looking up as a plate was set in front of him he was met with a wink and another dazzling, if slightly manic, smile before he was left alone, his heart beating painfully against his chest as he once again tried and failed to contain a blush. He looked down to be met with a stereotypical smiling meal of eggs and bacon...with tomatoes cut like fangs placed under the bacon and the yokes poked and smeared with what appeared to be a dot of ketchup in each to represent the eyes. It was as ghastly as it was amusing and Logan was happy to find it was just as delicious as the meal previous.
----
The rest of the week passed in a blur of failed flirting on Logan's part and delicious meals on the servers. He caught himself thinking about his next lunch more often than not, wondering of the white streak in the others hair was dyed or hereditary, if he had more piercings besides his ears and the one he had seen in his eyebrow, how it was possible for jeans that tight to be comfortable.
Saturday brought a hint of nerves as he wasn't sure if the man he had grown infatuated with would even be working but his shoulders noticeably relaxed when he caught sight of his smile getting closer, already carrying a dish to his table. In just a week a tradition seemed to have started where Logan wasn't even handed a menu anymore, some sort of oddly decorated meal already ready when his allotted time for lunch came around.
"Wasn't sure you'd be here today but I'm glad you came."
"I- wait why- what?" Logan stuttered through his half question as the waiter disappeared around the tables without answering, leaving him gaping embarrassingly before snapping his mouth shut and turning towards his lunch. His brow furrowed as he realized it was alphabet soup with the letters arranged in suspiciously straight lines that upon closer inspection spelled out numbers with a question at the end.
“Call me?”
He spent an undetermined amount of time simply staring at the bowl, leaving a rather gross congealed mass in place of the previously steaming lunch. Taking out his phone slowly he typed out the number, panicking slightly as he thought of what to say before settling on his curiosity.
???: Why soup?
???: Why not nilf?
???: I don't know what that is.
???: I don't know your name so that's what I've been calling you.
???: My name is Logan but that doesn't answer my question.
???: I'll tell you when you're older Nerdy Wolverine. Or I could tell you over a proper dinner rather than a lunch rush meal? I get off at 7. Name's Remus btw.
Logan's mouth quirked at the nickname even as his face heated impossibly brighter at the dinner proposal. Feeling bold he texted back quickly.
Logan: I'll admit I haven't been able to stop thinking about you since I started coming here, so dinner sounds lovely.
Burying his face in his hands he did his best to contain the awkward embarrassment he felt. Why had he said that? He was going to come off creepy and weird and he was certain that wasn't how you secured a date and-
He peaked out from his fingers as his phone buzzed. Tentatively he opened the text.
Remus: Glad the feeling's mutual!
"Wanna meet up outside the restaurant tonight then?"
Logan looked up at the familiar face, eyes shining with mirth as he leaned forward. He offered a smile of his own and nodded.
"I'd like that."
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Winter Wonderland is Overrated
For the 2022 @sanderssidesgiftxchange this is my present to @artist-hope  
I hope you enjoy <3
Snow gently fell onto the ground, covering the ground in a white blanket. Except for the parts that were brown with dirt as cars drove by on the slushy roads, and the yellow area by the lamp post where people walked their dogs. 
“I’m gonna freeze to death.” 
“Hallmark movies got my hopes up,” Remus signed, pouting as he walked alongside his boyfriend. Having grown up in Florida, he hadn’t experienced snow before. So when Logan asked if he wanted to join him and his family for the holidays in Colorado, Remus jumped at the chance. Quality time with his hunky nerd, meeting his maybe future in-laws, AND getting to finally experience snow? Yes, please!
He had some regrets now.
“You should never trust movies,” Logan signed back, his shoulders shaking in a way that told Remus that he was chuckling. Or maybe he was as cold as Remus was. 
A smirk stretched on Logan’s lips and Remus knew for a fact that he was definitely laughing at him that time. 
“You laugh as I perish? Have I been dating a serial killer? I knew you were too hot to be true.” 
He grinned as his boyfriend shook his head in exasperation. “How could-” 
Gravity changed course in a blink of an eye and Remus felt his stomach flip. A hand grabbed hold of his arm, but it only slowed the sudden descent and changed course slightly.  
Snow was not as soft as it looked.
Remus gasped at the impact of the cold against his neck as he blinked up at the gray sky. It took him a solid minute, or maybe it was merely ten seconds, before he noticed Logan patting him down and trying to get his attention. “-okay?” He blinked again, looking at the other’s hands. “Are you okay?” Another blink before he nodded. Logan’s shoulders sagged but a frown rested on his lips. Remus wanted to kiss it away.
“Fuck snow,” he finally signed. “What is it even good for?” Logan shook his head at him, his lips moving as he did so. Probably talking to himself. His nerdy wolverine was pretty good about using his hands when he was actually talking to Remus. 
“You’re the one that wanted to go for a walk.” Remus stuck his tongue out at the fact. A snowflake fell on it and it just tasted like cold water. Yuck. “Let’s go home.” Yeah, that sounded good. With a huff, he tried to sit up. His puffy jacket made it difficult, so Logan grabbed hold of his hands and helped hoist him up. The snow that clung to his head from the landing slid down into the back of his collar. He yelped and jumped from the shock.
Fuck, that’s freezing! Now he understood fully why it was such a dick move in movies to put snow down someone’s shirt. He shivered and shimmied, trying to somehow get the snow out. But all it did was melt away and make him wet in a totally not fun way. He wiggled his hands free from his boyfriend’s grasp, whose brows were furrowed in concern, so that he could complain. “Fuck snow.” The furrow was gone, a sign that Logan deemed he was well enough. “Next year, your family can just come visit us. Or no visitors and instead we just have some hot and heavy-”
Logan grabbed his hands again, face red as holly berries. His glare made Remus giggle. It also made his blood heat up, but it seemed that was a fact he’d have to keep to himself since his hands were occupied. Since he couldn’t sign, he decided to go about the next best course of action.
The cold air had made Logan’s lips chapped, the texture rougher than it usually was when they kissed. It was kind of fun, getting the new experience. Like having their first kiss all over again. When it came to an end, Logan’s face was even more red and he let go of his hold in order to speak. “Your mustache is cold.” Remus snickered at that.
“Help me warm it up,” he suggested, wiggling his brows as he grinned. Logan shook his head but obliged all the same with his pretty red cheeks. Remus didn’t know if his mustache was actually getting warmer or not, but other parts of him were. That was, until a gust of wind blew by. Breaking the kiss, Remus threw his hands up in irritation before moving them quickly.  “No. Time to go. Go go go go go.” He began to stomp his feet, ready to return to the safety of indoor heating, when Logan grabbed his arm and pointed in a different direction. Wrong way, whoops.
He was pretty sure Logan was laughing at him again, but Remus was too cold to care. He shivered and huffed, wrapping his arms around himself. His nose felt runny. It was terrible. 
A sudden downpour of snow landed on their heads from a branch that grew too heavy. 
A hand grabbed his arm and tugged it free from his wrap, making him pout as he turned his head to glare at his nerd. Logan however, simply slid his hand down so that his gloved fingers could lace with his. The action made his insides feel all gooey. His pout turned into a grin, goofy and wide. He pressed in closer to the other and hummed happily.
Alright, he could concede that walking hand in hand in the snow was romantic at the very least. 
He took it back. Fuck snow.
---------
Inside was better. So much better.
Why the hell would anyone want to go outside?
Remus wiggled in his dry pajamas and slipper socks, wrapping himself up in a soft, fuzzy blanket. He curled into Logan on the couch, seeking all the warmth he could. The vibrations of his boyfriend’s relatives moving and talking made for a lively beat. Though they didn’t compare to Logan’s lovely heartbeat. That was his favorite.
Well, second favorite. His favorite favorite was the vibrations of when Logan was co-
“You’re making that face,” was Logan’s answer.
A pinch on his arm halted that line of thought. Blinking, he turned to look at his boyfriend who was frowning at him. He grinned innocently but the other bought none of it, rolling his eyes behind those cute geeky glasses. They were a little steamed up still from coming in from the cold. Remus wanted to steam them up more.
Another pinch and he huffed. “What?” he signed.
“What face?” Logan grumbled something, the vibrations rumbling from his chest and into Remus’ side. 
“A face you shouldn’t make with everyone around.” Remus grinned maniacally. “Behave.”
“But you make me not want to.” He batted his eyes at the other, but Logan pushed at his face and he cackled. The air pressure changed and he blinked as Logan’s mother made her way over. Her lips moved, her vibrations softer from the distance. Logan’s hands moved after a moment of her speaking, translating for Remus what she was talking about.
“She wants to know how our walk was.” Ah a dilemma. Did Remus use total honesty, that Logan would or would not actually tell her he said, or be polite since this was his would-be mother-in-law? 
“It was an experience,” he decided and Logan translated. “It was my first time in snow.” 
“Did you have fun?” That was certainly a question. One that needed an answer. Future mom-in-law was not making it easy for him. 
“I’m frozen as fuck but your son is helping thaw me out.” She laughed at that, or whatever it was that Logan said instead if he didn’t actually translate, and patted his knee. 
“There’s cocoa in the kitchen if you want some.” He scrambled out of his blanket prison, feeling the laughter in the air as he did so, and hurried off towards the kitchen. 
A tap to his shoulder took his attention away from his drink, though it didn’t stop him from consuming it, and he turned his gaze back to Logan. “Better?” he asked and Remus nodded. He held the mug out for the other to try and grinned as he was met with a raised brow. Still, Logan obliged the silent offer, and took the mug from him. When Logan was done trying it, Remus began to laugh. 
A kettle on the stovetop awaited him, filled with boiled water that was ready to pour into a mug of powdery chocolate. The packets themselves were in their little box next to some clean mugs that had been brought down from the cupboards. He grabbed the one that had to have been Logan’s, it was space themed, and made himself a cup of the hot beverage. It helped warm his hands up nicely.
With a little skip in his step, he returned back to the couch and wiggled back into his place beside Logan while his boyfriend continued to chat with his mother. He blew into the cup to cool the drink down a little before taking a sip. A happy gurgle bubbled in the back of his throat and he took another sip. That’s the ticket, he thought, feeling himself get warmed up from the inside. Whoever invented cocoa was a genius. 
He would.
“We match!” he signed eagerly, before pointing at the other’s lips. The cocoa had given Logan a mustache of sorts and it was hilarious. Before his boyfriend could do anything about it, he leaned in and licked a portion of it off. The air moved with whatever sound Logan had made and Remus laughed again. He took off before his boyfriend could scold him for doing such a thing for all his family to see, sacrificing his precious cocoa to delay Logan from reacting quick enough.
It didn’t stop him nearly long enough and Logan was soon hot on his heels, better at maneuvering around his childhood home, and the relatives that filled it, than Remus was. Soon those surprisingly strong arms wrapped around his waist and lifted him up. He squealed at the action, kicking his legs and cackling as Logan dragged him off. The cackling died off when he realized they were heading for the door. He wouldn’t-
Remus gasped as the cold air hit him once more, now without the protective layers of his stupid puffy coat. “Sorry! Sorry!” he signed frantically, though he wasn’t sure if Logan could see. His feet dangled over the porch steps, where the threat of snow felt far too real. Then he was being moved to where the little swing rested on the far end. Logan released him right in front of it before turning him around and lightly pushing him to sit in it. The second his ass was on the cushion, Logan’s lips were on his. He sighed into it, relief filling him that his boyfriend was not about to be so cruel as to drop him into the snow.
He should have paid better attention though, because as they walked back to the door, Logan swiped some snow off the porch banister and pressed it against his neck. Remus shrieked while Logan dashed back inside.
When the kiss broke, Logan glared at him. “Behave.”
“No promises.” Remus grinned. Logan rolled his eyes and gestured for Remus to come back inside. He didn’t need to be told twice.
-----
“So how was your trip to the in-laws?” Remus huffed at his brother’s question, giving a shrug. “Come on! Tell me!” 
“Fuck snow,” he responded, a phrase he had gotten familiar with during his stay. “The movies lie.” 
“Oh don’t be such a baby.” He glared at Roman and flipped him off. “Real mature.” He lifted up his other hand to give the same gesture. “Wooooooow.” 
“Seriously though, snow is the worst. I don’t see what the excitement is about. The only good thing is getting to cuddle with Logan and I don't need snow for that.”
“So I take it you won’t go next year?” Remus frowned and gave another shrug. 
“Well,” he signed, “I gotta keep up a good impression with the in-laws. And they have the fancy cocoa.”
“Fancy cocoa? Marry this boy.”
“If I’m lucky, he’ll put a ring on it.” Remus hummed thoughtfully. “But seriously, fuck snow.”
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Echoes of the Past - Day 31
Prompt: “Hell is empty and all the devils are here.”
CW: None that I know of
As the cart hit another pothole, Roman groaned, trying to shift his position, a feat that was quite difficult with his hands bound behind his back. He wasn't sure how Logan was managing to put up with this bumpy ride but he kept himself upright as if there were a monument to poise and stability. They hit another bump and Roman fell forward, letting out a groan. "By all the gods, was this really necessary?" He shot Logan a look, he was part of the reason that they were in this situation. Though, Roman couldn't really blame him.
"My liege, please calm yourself." He had his eyes closed, sitting against the wall of the wagon as if he were completely unbothered by their situation. It was honestly a bit frustrating seeing Logan like this. How did he handle everything with such decorum? 
"Calm myself? Calm myself? How can I be calm when we are entering a kingdom of thieves and miscreants?!" Maybe that was a little bit of an exaggeration, but it wasn't a complete lie. Sartia wasn't a kingdom known for it's social programs and care facilities, unlike his own kingdom. They were know for art work that was graphic and war. Surprisingly though, they didn't often go to war. Sartia simply had a large army that kept most people away. Roman, however, would never actually say anything good about Sartia, not if he could help it.
Logan raised his eyebrow, "There are far worse places we could be heading to," and Logan must have wanted to appeal to his sense of dramatics because the next words out of his mouth were very much unlike him, "hell for example."
Roman wasn't going to take the bait. He shot Logan an angry and frustrated look. "Hell is empty Logan, all of the demons are here."
The other man simply rolled his eyes and shook his head, not bothering to feed into the dramatics any further. It was a good attempt on his part though. Roman, however, didn't like being ignored and thus continued to whine and lament as their cart got closer to the castle. Was he doing all of this just to annoy Logan? Maybe a little bit. Would he ever admit that? Absolutely not.
Roman watched as the city continued to go by, growing more and more dense as they got closer to the castle. He really didn't like the look of the people here, but they weren't his subjects and no one was going to try anything while they were in custody. They were being transported directly to the king and everyone would be able to see that by the color of their wagon and the guards surrounding them. If it weren't for the fact that they were bound, it would have been a pleasant ride.
“I don’t know how you can continue to be calm,” Roman said, a bit quieter this time as he looked over at Logan. “It’s like you are completely unfazed.” Even if Logan wasn't afraid, which honestly neither of them were, they were still going to be meeting the king of Sartia, and for Logan, that should have been a big deal.
“I have a full understanding of what we are getting ourselves into, I simply don’t see a need to waist my energy, like you have been doing. Your dramatics and frivolity will get us no where.” Roman watched Logan carefully, trying to see if his expression would betray anything.
It didn't, and he pouted, sinking down as Logan finally looked out the back of their ride. “Well excuse me for being expressive.” Though, Roman finally saw it, the slight quirk of Logan's smile. He wasn't sure if as they got closer, Logan was finally getting into the spirt, or if he was just excited he had won.
The cart lurched to a halt as it entered the gate, and Roman dared to peak his head out, trying to get a better look. Instead of a sweeping view of the castle grounds he was greeted with a face that just about mirrored his own, save for a cartoonish mustache. They were finally here.
“Hiya there bro bro, did you like my valet?”
“Was it really necessary to tie us up!?” He asked, the demand to be untied not necessarily needing to be said out loud.
“Well of course, I wanted you to be protected.” Remus laughed and Logan stood up, walking past Roman, and handing Remus a length of rope. He must have untied himself somehow because Roman watch him get tied up. He should have known. Logan was normally pretty good about getting himself out of situations. He just wished Logan would have had the curtesy to untie him as well.
“You should instruct your men on how to tie a proper knot, I’m aware you know better.” 
Remus cackled, eyes following Logan as he walked up to the castle. It was always disgusting to see the two of them together. Not in an actual way, but in the way it was for any sibling so see their brother flirt.
Roman gagged. “If you two are going to act like that every time we come I’m going to stop bringing him.
“Don’t be like that… I mean, unless you finally want to let me keep him. I could use a royal advisor like him.”
“Finders keepers,” Roman stated as his brother finally untied him. “Also, Logan is far too uptight to live in your den of soldiers and demons.”
“Shows how much you actually know about him.” Remus looked back to where Logan disappeared. 
“Why did it seem so urgent that we come to you? You acted as if it were life and death.”
“It is,” Remus said, pulling a small box out of his coat and showing it to Roman who immediately knew exactly what it was. "I think I might actually steal your adviser this time."
Roman's eyes sparkled, “really?!” He asked both excited and surprised, completely forgetting his anger over his brother haven tied him up. 
“Yep,” Remus said. “Now I just have to wait for the right time, and hope he says yes.”
“He will,” Roman said with utter confidence, “I might have teased him about not being excited to come, but I could see his nervous fidgeting, and the way he always get more and more excited as we get closer. Logan doesn’t wear his emotions on his sleeve, but I know him, and he loves you.” Roman looked down at the bracelet that would mark Logan as engaged to a king, it was beautiful, but simple, something his friend would appreciate.
“Thanks,” Remus muttered, putting the box back in his coat. The unspoken nervousness still hung in the air and Remus seemed intent to get rid of it. "Now let’s go spar, this conversation has been far too mushy for my taste.” He was going to have to learn to deal with that if he was planning on becoming married.
Roman decided not to call him on it, giving his brother a break just this once. He laughed, “loser cooks,” and they both ran off to the training field. He was going to miss Logan, but he was so happy for his brother, and his best friend.
@simplestoryteller @fantasticfangirl21 @joylessnightsky @melaniidarling @tsshipmonth2020
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edupunkn00b · 6 months
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Meus ex Machina - Masterpost
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Edited public domain image of two hands reaching for each other, lit in deep blue and neon green.
Chapter 1: Machina - Playlist - [ AO3 ]
Meus ex Machina Summary
Last century, the first Powered child was born. A frail, squalling infant with skin that burned to the touch and eyes that seemed to read your every thought, it was abandoned at the hospital.
Three years later, another was born. Then another. And another. Within a generation, most hospitals delivered more Powered children than powerless. The world turned on its head and the circuits were filled with advertisements for augmentation or that one weird trick to ensure your child was born gifted.
But veneration turned to fear and those powered children who were not cast out were raised to serve the needs of the strongest voices in their communities, whether corporate or military.
Four Powereds said 'no more' and broke away to find their own way to serve—and maybe even save—the world.
Until one day, a Powerless dropped down into their midst, scarred and broken, but armed with steel and hungry for vengeance. Was there a place for him in the world they sought to build?
And did he have the power to save one of their own?
Second in the series, can be read before Out of the Machine Updates weekly on Tuesdays and Saturdays.
Chapter List
Machina
Mad Lads
Alone
Wounds
Power
The Muse
The Prince
Reaching
Brothers
First Visit
Working Out
Secrets
Anniversary
Silvertongue and Hesper
Meus et Machina
The Mad Lads
I'm excited to release my @sandersidesbigbang Intrulogical Superpower story, Meus ex Machina. I first had this idea back in 2021 for @tsspromptmonth's AUgust but couldn't finish it. I'm psyched to finally bring it to life!
Many thanks are due to the amazing @rosepetalgold for their insightful beta-reading. Feast your eyes on the amazing pieces by @artistically-gay (Machina) and @wolfyfloofs (The Muse), too!!
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ashtonisvibing · 5 months
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MAD SCIENTIST LOGAN TAG ON AO3
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MY CROPS HAVE BEEN WATERED AND MY DAY IS MARVELOUS
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