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stardustsides · 8 months

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In These Small Hours

quiet lil logicality drabble i wrote this morning :)

Patton was awake.

The window was cracked, letting a soft breeze blow into the quiet room. The whole world was asleep, and multiple times he had closed his eyes and nearly drifted off to the steady sound of the crickets outside.

And yet he was awake.

The door opened softly, as if the newcomer was trying not to wake him. Logan stepped into the room quietly, put down his briefcase, and caught his eye.

He looked tired; his hair was unkempt, no doubt from running his hands through it as he worked, which Patton knew was a nervous habit of his, and he had bags under his eyes. Still, as soon as he saw him, Patton could see some of the tension release from his frame.

“Patton,” he said, a soft smile tugging on the corners of his mouth. “It’s late. You should be asleep.” The reprimand was supposed to sound exasperated, but the relief in Logan’s voice at seeing him was clear enough that Patton couldn’t bring himself to care.

“I wanted to wait for you,” Patton responded gently, trying not to break the delicate quiet of the bedroom.

“You don’t have to do that,” Logan said, taking off his shoes. “It’s bad for you.”

“I know. I wanted to.” His hand emerged from the sheets, seeking Logan’s. Logan’s callused, ink-stained fingers entwined with his. “How was work?”

“Long,” he replied, attempting to loosen his tie one-handed. Patton let go of his hand to let him get changed. “I think the project’s almost done.”

Patton could feel his chest swell with pride. When he had gotten the job at NASA as an engineer, back before they were married, they had both cried tears of joy. He knew that it had been Logan’s dream ever since he learned what space was. Logan had nervously told him that the hours would be long, and Patton had responded that it didn’t matter to him, as long as they were together. Logan had proposed that same night.

“I’m so proud of you,” he said, and noticed the way that Logan seemed to straighten at his words. He clambered into bed without even bothering to put his pajamas on. He must have been really tired, then. His hand once again found Patton’s beneath the sheets.

“I missed you,” he said reverently, stroking the back of Patton’s hand with his thumb. Patton shifted closer and carded his free hand through Logan’s hair.

“I missed you, too,” he whispered, pressing a lingering kiss to his lips.

“You shouldn’t stay up so late,” Logan mumbled, his eyelids already beginning to droop. “‘S bad for you,” he repeated. Patton simply smiled.

“This is worth it,” he replied, still stroking his hair. “It all is.”

Logan’s eyes drifted shut. His fingers were still entangled with Patton’s, but his breathing had evened out. He hadn’t even remembered to take his glasses off.

Gently, Patton put them on the nightstand, turning out the light with a quiet click.

Yes, he thought to himself as he drifted off. It’s worth it, for him.

#i didn’t edit this just wrote and posted #sanders sides #ts sides #patton sanders #logan sanders #logicality #romantic logicality #logan x patton #ts logan #ts patton #my writing #ts fic #i’m such a sucker for heartachingly tender logicality #it gets me every time

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 1 month

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Archduke of Demonic Cultivation

Chapter 34: Then, Remus

[AO3 Link]

When Remus opened his eyes again, it took him several long moments to understand that he was still in the hidden room in Verdant Keep. Namely, because it was crowded . The room was filled with soldiers and medics all talking over each other and rushing about. It wasn’t more than thirty people all told, but the room was not meant to hold quite so many people.

The last thing he remembered was going down to Wrath’s claws. Now, he was laying in a medic cot with his damaged leather armor set off to the side. His bonded weapon had vanished when it left his grasp… but his left hand was still grasping something so tightly he could feel blood, warm and sticky against his palm. Slowly, he lifted his hand and willed his cramping fingers to uncurl. A few droplets of blood rolled down his arm from where the sharp edges of the ruby pendant had pierced his skin.

The Amulet.

[Continue on AO3] | [Read From Beginning]

#sanders sides #ts fic #intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders #kye writes #archduke tag

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spoondrifts · 6 months

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The letter started unpromisingly with Remus’ horrific scratchy handwriting, spelling out in all caps: HUNDRED YEAR SCAVENGER HUNT. This was followed by a string of exclamation points pressed so hard into the paper that the ink had bled, blurring the punctuation into a mass of black stains.

hello hello and welcome to my sanders sides weird body horror immortal scavenger hunt comedy thing that i wrote in a day and have been editing on & off for the past three weeks, enjoy!

#sanders sides #virgil sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #ts fic #ts virgil #ts janus #ts roman #ts remus #ts logan #ts patton #ts sides

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fandombead · 5 months

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Janus’ Guide for Cynics Who can’t Admit They Need a Family

First of a few Sanders Sides Fics I want to post~

Chapter 1: Right into the Fire

Word count: 2,257

Characters: Janus and kid!Remus

Summary: Janus just wanted to live his life and leave his past behind him. Until a random kid throws a flaming rock into his plans of traveling alone. Why couldn’t he just be selfish?

____________________________

Janus was not one to risk his own life to intervene in other people’s. It just wasn’t who he was.

It stayed the case that it was none of his business while passing a village in flaming doom.

He wasn’t one to be nosey in other people’s spats with the elementals or vengeful spirits that were also none of his business, because the potential of getting irreparably staked in it would mean getting in the way of his self-preserving principles. That was just the sort of thing that would get some other fool, one with a bleeding heart, killed. And Janus was no fool in the slightest. He was in it for himself and didn’t have room in that plan for sticking his neck out for anybody. And that’s why he planned to leave immediately before he drew unwanted attention or saw something he couldn’t un-see.

It seemed he’d lingered too long already as he stared at the alluring blaze, people yelling and scurrying to save possessions more than themselves. Their small forms were easily hidden by the growing flames. Half the wooden buildings were already entirely consumed, the husk roofs and dry paneling only added kindling now, growing the cloud of black smoke towering over the town like a tidal wave cresting.

It was hot even from where Janus stood from the treeline as an on-looker and really wished he knew why he didn’t just walk away now before he somehow got caught up in it. How he’d spotted a scampering child in the chaos of fleeing carts and denizens and domestic animals, he did not know, but they’d caught his attention.

Perhaps it was because this was the only living thing running towards the flames and not away.

No one was trying to stop him as he shoved past hurrying pairs of legs and almost tripped another.

…Only to dart into a weathered house that looked like a repurposed old storage. With the thatch roof and half the side up in flames. Janus gaped and tried to see if anyone else saw that, but they continued on with their own cares. Was literally no one going to stop the senseless half-pint?

It seemed the universe had unfortunately promoted him to active participant now because he’d gone and made the mistake of being a witness. Curse the guilt that clung to his soul, he owed no one anything. Who was his conscience to tell him what to do? How easy it’d be to turn and just leave if not for the threat of knowledge haunting him for the rest of his short life. He couldn’t get involved, he…he was already across the ditch that separated the trees from the dirt road.

Janus didn’t know when he’d fought his way out of the brush to stand outside the door the kid had run through. No one had spared the child a second glance and Janus realized for too long a moment he had already disappeared well inside. Sure, this building on the end of the row slightly back from the others hadn’t caught quite like it had already razed most of the quaint town, the sky amber and raining soot from all the wooden structures the flames devoured and grew from, reaching for more. It would happily take the boy too.

The house wasn’t large at all, at most just two rooms within it. What little had been in it was all but enveloped in flame and at the back of the room was the boy in all his three-and-a-half feet of feral fury, frantically trying to claw and yank his way through a solid door not yet taken by the flames, but close to it.

Janus didn’t know what the hell was so important, but as parts of the thatching fell through flaming, his only goal was snatching the kid and getting out un-barbecued.

Shouldn’t take more than 10 seconds, right?

Within 4 he had crossed the living space with burned hazards like what could’ve been a low table mistaken for a campfire. The kid looked scruffy, in an old green tunic a few sizes too big on his scrawny frame. Janus noted the bedraggled mostly brown hair he didn’t look to have ever attempted combing. He seized the child under their arms, worryingly lighter than he’d anticipated. Oh well, all the easier for him, no time to dwell. Back they went.

Or so he thought.

His plan was thwarted as the child exploded into a fury of limbs now trained on him, entirely ungrateful for Janus’ charitable rescue. A kick to his shin even as he held the child out had him swearing he’d be selfish and jaded the rest of his days.

Janus held the child away from him like you’d hold an angry cat you couldn’t put down, cursing internally. “ You dastardly little heathen, unless you want us to learn what the afterlife is like—“

Janus was cut off by a rather feral snap at his arms.

“Let GO!! I’m getting Roman! I’ll bite your hand off!” he screeched at Janus as if he were kidnapping him from his fiery demise.

Janus gapped at this, brain short-circuiting to process that. Well, it wasn’t because the kid was scared of his scar. “You… what?? Who—“

“MY BROTHER’S IN THERE, I’m not going yet!!” he snarled, desperate trying to throw himself free using his little weight against the traveler, and Janus’ mind stuttered again.

But they didn’t have time for him to leisurely consider that. Okay, so he had to readjust his previous timeframe with this new information. Would a minute work? Two? It would have to, because he didn’t have time and their other exit was far more perilous now.

He all but dropped the kid back onto his feet and grabbed the brass doorknob. The door didn’t budge, either blocked by a collapsed support or from expanding in the flames. Janus hoped it was the latter, otherwise, he didn’t think they’d be getting out alive at all.

“Hello? Kid, you conscious in there?” Janus called through the door even as he pulled up his sleeves. There was no reply, which didn’t help his hopes any.

With one more glance down at the child and seeing an insistent wave at the door and intense pointed stare of shockingly red eyes– had he just been lured by some sort of demon pretending to be a child to his admittedly deserved slow death after all? Was that why no one else had been stupid enough to follow? -- Janus stepped back and rammed his shoulder into the wood with all of his weight. He did it again while trying the doorknob and was relieved when he felt it give inwards, the pain of bruises he could feel blooming again, having him cursing himself for being here.

But if not him, no one, and then two children would be gone because no one had cared. Well, it’d be all three of them now, but they weren’t goners yet and so he wasn’t entertaining it.

Let it never be said that Janus didn’t try once in his life, though.

He coughed from the effort and how hard it was becoming to breathe, the hot air burned his eyes. Heat licking at the back of his neck, He took a step back and ran the four feet of room he had into the door with all his weight. It slammed open with a crack and he fell to the floor due to his commitment to his momentum, groaning.

Smoke billowed at the ceiling but the holes in the roof seemed at least to help in not choking them here. He was really banking on the thickness of the roof’s slats to buy them time before it fully collapsed in, but that thickness would also trap them if it fell early, the weight of it not enough to crush them, but a slow way to die from the surrounding smoke and flames. Janus grimaced.

The rotten goblin child scrambled in over top of him, the audacity. As much as he would rather stay splayed on the relatively cooler earthen floor, he knew he had to get up as the very real possibility of the half-burned roof trapping them at the bottom of what could become a bonfire grew with each passing second. He pulled himself up while grabbing his fallen hat as his shoulder let him know just how reckless it thought he was.

Janus pushed the plank door closed against the inferno behind them. It wouldn’t be a viable exit anymore anyway and might as well buy them time, futile and minuscule as it was.

The air was suffocatingly arid regardless and Janus needed to identify their new exit preferably soon.

The child to his credit was standing on the old bed frame trying to shove the window’s frame outwards and struggling due to his height, back to Janus.

Janus frowned and whirled around, expecting to see another kid occupying the little room. There was an old rumbled thin bed with no sheet and lumpy pillow that looked like a burlap bag stuffed with scrap cloth and wool. A worn brown blanket that looked like it was made the same way a sack would be (was it just a cut sack?) was rumpled on the floor beside the bed, discarded.

Perhaps he was hiding by the old wardrobe that was catty-cornered opposite the bed? But when Janus checked the place over, there was absolutely nowhere for another person to effectively be hidden away, no matter how short. The bed was high enough Janus saw the floor beneath it, also child-free.

Janus’ eyes snapped again to the only kid actually in the room, confused. The kid looked unbothered by a lack of this “brother” around, and only now Janus noticed a little crocheted doll in the crook of his arm, inhibiting his attempts to open the window as he refused to put it down.

Janus blinked a few times as his brain drew a conclusion just as the kid seemed to reach the latch. He gave a gap-toothed grin at his achievement and shoved it open before hopping down quickly and wiggling under the bed.

“I— you—!!“ the caped man sputtered as realization sparked a fiery fury, his blood pressure suddenly louder in his ears than the fire. “You made me break into a room in a burning building to get a doll??!” he hissed, unable to mask the vitriol in his tone.

“I didn’t ask you to come too! I’m his brother, of course I had to get him! Roman can’t move,” the insane child’s muffled voice replied with the tone of someone having to argue the grass was green.

The kid squirmed back out holding a curved circular object that looked like an oversized wooden plate in his hands. It was too shallow to be a bowl and had badly attached leather straps that looked like they were one good tug away from falling off. He then made a grab beside the bed and didn’t seem to be listening as he set the two items down.

Janus had half a mind to chuck the doll in his fury, but as it was they’d already committed to the damn thing, and causing a fuss now would absolutely delay their departure. He wasn’t so sure his rescuee wouldn’t go charging into the fire after it before Janus could grab him. Later, then. He could chuck it back through the window once they were safely outside to teach the child a lesson in self-preservation priorities. “A doll is replaceable!! What, you think you’re indestructible?! Last I checked you're a squishy little brat! Neither of us is fireproof!!”

The mini menace just glared and had the nerve to wiggle past Janus as the adult looked on incredulously.

He shoved the circle out the window first then quickly went for the other on the bed.

“Oh, yes, please do take your time packing, the blazing roof over our heads will wait for you.”

Janus lurched after the kid with his goodwill and patience all but abused and spent. He’d be chucking the kid out at this point because clearly he had not been born with any survival instinct. At all.

The child barely managed to wrap his free hand around the stick of the wooden sword before Janus was hiking him bodily over his shoulder and they were — with as much grace as a fawn on fresh ice— tumbling through the narrow window. It was all Janus could do not to squash the kid as they landed in the dirt.

They had landed and then rolled five feet from the fire and Janus couldn’t find it in him to move any further. Janus could only lie there, somewhat dazed, and coughed faintly. If death somehow still got him at this point, then so be it. Though he somehow forgot he wasn’t the only person here in that too-brief moment.

The kid sat up after 3 seconds of recovering from the rough landing.

He peered down over Janus, tipping Janus’ hat back onto his forehead from where it had rolled off. “Are you dead?”

Janus stared up and blinked slowly as the punctual roof finally fell in, throwing burnt hay and smoke up in the wind. “Sometimes I wonder.”

“Oh. Okay~” the now homeless child shrugged, sitting back beside Janus. The doll was held loosely in his arm as they watched the fire burn down everything manmade in front of them. “I’m Remus!”

“...charmed.”

#my writing #sanders sides #everyone eventually makes an appearance but this chapter is just Remus and Janus #roman sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #fantasy au fic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts sides #ts fic

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thebestworstidea · 7 months

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"Hey Virge."

Virgil looked up from what he was doing. Normally, he wouldn't stop working to talk to anyone when he was on the clock- he took his work seriously.

But he was writing a pop-song, and it was driving him nuts.

He'd been given a phrase and a feeling and was trying to turn it into something worth hearing, while adhering to the bubbly pop psudo punk the client was going for.

Also it was Thomas, and the ghost had been a bit drifty lately, making conversation less frequent.

"Sup." He answered.

"I was wondering." Thomas did that thing he did where he wans't fully visible, but gave the impression he was perching on something- in this case, the edge of Virgil's dresser. "You're an excellent musician, and I've seen you writing all sorts of songs, and mixing music and everything."

"Thanks." Virgil said a little awkwardly. He knew he was pretty good, but it was still weird to hear it, even though that's mostly where he made his money.

"And you said you played in bands back when you lived in the city when someone bugged out."

"Played with this one band almost a year before they found a bassist that didn't suck. I was on their debut album." he agreed.

"How come you never had a band of your own?"

Virgil snorted, but suppressed actual laughter.

"Well first off- I am not front-man material. In the least."

"I suppose that you don't really like being stared at."

"Yes, that too. But that's not why."

Thomas tipped his head (just a bit too far making him look more like a cartoon of a person than a person) and raised his eyebrows. Virgil smiled without thinking, even if it was a little weird. Thomas had started doing things like that shortly after he started manifesting visually. Logan thought it had something to do with how he thought of himself, and one of the first things they'd learned about Thomas was that he really loved cartoons. So if he pictured himself as a cartoon version of himself, his visible form would reflect that.

Virgil wondered if, given time, Thomas might start looking entirely like a cartoon, as he forgot more about himself as a living person.

"One second." He sent a text out. He was pretty sure that Logan and Roman had gone to a museum to be snarky about an exhibit, but Patton was probably in the house. "Alright, if you really want to know, I can show you."

"Please, you have more musical talent in one tooth than I had in my whole body, and I did a lot of singing."

"Uh-huh." Virgil looked at the ghost skeptically. He went over to the door, opened it and called down stairs. "Hey Patton, I'm going to sing."

There was a faint strained whine and then a faint

"Have fun!" followed by a door closing.

"You can do it!" Roman called, a little closer. "I believe in you."

"Oh fuck off." Virgil retorted, and Roman laughed.

Thomas snorted, shifting in place and folding his arms.

"Now you're just being theatrical."

Virgil smiled sarcastically and hummed under his breath. Then he started singing

For a few moments Thomas felt justified. But then- it was wrong. He couldn't put his finger on why but it was wrong. Technically the melody and the tune were there, and he was hitting the notes. But it echoed and it warped and it just sounded wrong, like someone was purposefully playing with sliders on a mixing board.

Outside, Patton started howling, sounding a little hurt himself. Virgil stopped, coughed, and put his hand over his mouth looking a bit embarrassed. There were a few more baying howls, and then an apologetic sounding bark.

"It used to be I just was a little flat, you know? I know how music works." His voice sounded rough. "but not really vocalist quality. But then uh." He looked even more embarrassed. "Something happened, and now my voice does that when I sing. I don't mind that-" Virgil hastened to add. "Since I don't have to sing to play instruments or even write or mix music. But it sounds worse recorded, believe it or not."

"Well." Thomas flickered a bit, and gave a lop sided smile. "There's always death metal."

"A favorite of ghosts everywhere." Virgil agreed, and Thomas laughed himself invisible.

#Monstrous Roommates #TS fic #TS Thomas #TS Virgil #Vampire!Virgil

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calethelettuce · 6 months

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SaSi Intruality Week 6/7: Chaos Cookies - The Electric Boogaloo x2

Prompt: Baking

Tags: @intrualityweek

Synopsis: Patton and Remus are back in the kitchen! The follow up to Day 1's oneshot. Remus finally gets permission to make "cookies". Patton's there to support him and make sure the house doesn't burn down. We've got a shorter one today, my motivation isn't being very nice to me :(

Characters: Patton, Remus, Virgil

Relationships: Romantic Intruality, Implied Prinxiety

TW: Swearing, PATTON SAYS A BAD WORD????!!!?? Glass shards, inedible food items being ingested, eating glass, talk of cremation/burning bodies, sex jokes/implications (don't be surprised), minor description of burnt skin/Remus is being dumb, I MEAN IT GUYS

"Remus, buddy, can we keep the glass shards in the bowl, please?"

Remus only continued to mix the dough at a quick pace, snickering to himself as the pieces of once-shiny glass scraped against the sides of the bowl. "You said I have full control today!" he proclaimed, adding the slightest pinch of poison ivy to the concoction, "Therefore, no thanks!"

Patton sighed, shaking his head slightly. "You do you, then, Morningstar."

Patton observed the state of the inedible batter from behind Remus, peering over his shoulder.

It was lumpy, the sharp blade-like edges of the glass sticking out at odd angles. The leaves of poison ivy the green-sashed side threw in stuck out like a sore thumb against the pale colored dough.

"Isn't it great, Patty?" Remus asked proudly, admiring his handiwork with a grin, "I've never made something so delicious before!"

Patton gave him the biggest smile he could muster. "Well..! It's certainly not my taste, but uh, I can definitely see the appeal."

Even Remus could tell he was lying.

Although, instead of getting upset as most would, his smile only grew bigger. "Exactly!" he chirped, grabbing a ball of dough with his bare hands, "Time to throw these fuckers in the the torture chamber!"

Patton handed him a cookie sheet. "Put them on this one please," he practically begged, "I really don't want to clean the oven again."

Remus rolled his eyes but complied. He smashed the ball onto the sheet. "There."

"Good job, bud!"

"Thanks!"

Remus continued to slap the remaining dough balls onto the surface, with Patton holding the sheet out gingerly and carefully as to not get poison ivy from the leaves.

"Remus, does poison ivy still work the same here as it does in the real world?" he asked, nearly avoiding an accidental attack from a loose leaf, "Because if it does, maybe I shouldn't-"

"You'll be fine! I made these, but they only affect me! I made sure of it. It's just these ones that do that, though. If you find any in a forest, then that'll give you the greatest rash this world has ever seen."

Patton shivered at the thought of that. Remus took the pan from him carelessly, pressing a kiss to the shorter side's forehead. "Did we already set the oven to 600?"

"..600?"

"600!" Remus opened the oven door, quickly shoving the pan in before shutting it again. "Wouldn't want us to get cremated!"

"It's not hot enough for the human body to burn, you know." Patton supplied, washing his hands with extra soap, "It's got to be at least 1400 fahrenheit."

Remus stared at him in shock, mouth hung agape. "Holy shit, this is why I love you."

Patton laughed. "Well, even dads can have a dark sense of humor!"

"You're even hotter when you make dark jokes." Remus winked at him, leaning on the counter. "Except you're always hot. You're a certified DILF."

Patton felt his cheeks go red. "I-"

"Shhhh," Remus strode over, putting a finger to Patton's lips. "You're gonna make me horny."

"Stop being gay!" They heard Virgil shout from the living room, "It's too late for your shit, Remus!"

Patton felt his face grow darker. "Virgil, I thought you'd be upstairs by now!"

"Too early. Besides, it's not like I go home, since my house is covered in glitter because of somebody- also known as Remus. It's only 10."

Remus snickered. "I regret nothing, bitch."

Patton kept an eye on the oven to make sure nothing was on fire. He took the messy, empty bowl from the counter, handing it to Remus. "Have a gift for your junkyard! I don't think it's safe for me to use the bowl anymore."

"Awh, thanks Pattycake!" Remus took the bowl gratefully, evaporating it away to his junkpile by the playground outside. "I love that you're thinking about me!"

Patton smiled up at him, hopping onto the tips of his toes to press a kiss to Remus' nose. "Always am!" he chirped, ruffling the taller side's hair.

He heard Virgil groan from his spot on the couch.

"You're just mad you're lonely!" Remus gave the purple-clad side the middle finger. "Cause Princey doesn't want to suck your DI-"

"Remus!"

"My bad, Pat." The timer dinged to signal the cookies were finished. "OH! They're done!"

Well, Patton knew his house was going to smell like burnt cookies for the rest of the week.

Remus took the pan out of the oven with his bare hands, laughing as the sizzling smell of burnt flesh filled the room.

“Holy shit, Remus! Put the pan down!” Patton was little too tempted the smack the pan out of his hands. “You’re gonna burn your hands off!”

Remus plopped the pan down onto the counter. “That was fun!” He declared, “I don’t have fingerprints or palm skin anymore!”

Patton heard Virgil mutter a quiet “oh fuck no-“ before the anxious side ran up the steps to the guest room.

He turned back to Remus. “Come on, honey, I thought we agreed this one was going to be injury free!” He said sadly.

Remus pouted. “But that was fun!” He insisted.

Patton let out a huff. “I know, I know, but you have to keep your promises!”

“…fine.” Remus magicked away his hand burns with a frown, wiggling his fingers for reference. “There.”

Patton gave him a soft smile. “Thank you. I didn’t mean to make you upset, dear.”

“You didn’t.”

Patton gave the taller side a quick hug, resting his head on Remus’ shoulder. “Next time, we can have another baking day where I’ll let you do whatever you want, okay?”

Remus brightened just a bit at that. “Really!?”

“Of course!”

Remus hummed in appreciation, hugging Patton back. “Okay.”

“Now, how about we wait for these cookies to cool?”

“Oh, who needs that!?”

The sudden release of pressure and the sound of crunching glass signaled that Remus was already chomping down on a glass cookie.

Patton knew he was gonna have his work cut out for him this week.

#sanders sides #patton sanders #remus sanders #thomas sanders #ts patton #ts sides #ts fic #tss remus #tss patton #intruality week #romantic intruality #intruality

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thecrowslullaby · 2 years

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setting and ships spin wheels for all ts writers/artists who can't decide what to do next

And you can delete/add ships and setting :D!

#ts #sanders sides #ts art #ts fic

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elmaxlys · 7 months

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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: 天空侵犯 | Tenkuu Shinpan Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: Major Character Death Characters: Honjo Rika, Suzuki Emiri | Juo Additional Tags: Drabble Series: Part 7 of Things you said Summary:

"things you said after it was over"

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I wrote something. Can I get a “yeehaw”?

#tenkuu shinpan #my writing #ts fic #honjo rika #juo #high rise invasion

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loganscroftersstash · 4 months

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guys i just updated my fic go like and comment r whatecer!!!!!!

#mitzy is once again asking for your support #sanders sides #thomas sanders #tss fanfic #ts fic #ts fanfic

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warcats-cat · 1 year

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A Knight and His Prince

Virgil contemplates his relationship with his beloved prince, Roman. Patton contemplates his relationship with his son and said son's first love.

Lots of fluff with a twist 💜

A/N: My piece for a little exchange among friends; my giftee being @its-the-cat-queen! It was so much fun to write for her aus; a nice pile of fluff to counteract my usual angst ;)

That being said I genuinely don't know what to tag this with so please let me know if I need to add anything. Enjoy!!

Read on Ao3 here!

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The early evening around them was warm, washing their camp in the soft glow of sunset; the firelight kissed Roman’s beautiful face as the dark creeped in around them. The prince had let his little hare out to sniff at the dandelions; the bounty of late summer. Virgil carefully removed his hood, laying it on one of the large stones they’d pulled forward as seats to rest on.

Roman was inspecting his sword again, running his hand carefully over smooth steel and worn leather. His crown was set just barely askew on his head. Virgil smiled to himself; his prince never could quite keep the circlet balanced, but he dared not take it off.

It’s possible he loved the crown almost as much as he loved Virgil.

The thought made Virgil’s smile widen, just a bit, as he plopped down next to his prince and leaned his head on his shoulder.

“It’s been a good day today,” Roman said, wrapping his arm around the knight. Virgil hummed in lieu of an answer, listening to the prince’s steady heartbeat and honey voice. “I’m looking forward to the journey home.” He turned to Virgil, his face alight with a new idea, “We should throw a ball! And invite the whole kingdom, and we can even set out food for the poorer families, so everyone can enjoy the festivities.”

Virgil’s smile widened further at that; “My father would object to the entire affair if we didn’t provide an actually nutritious meal alongside the party treats. Not to mention, only one of your dads’ cooking is edible.” Both paused for a moment, shuddering as they remembered Roman’s papa Remus being left to his own devices in the kitchens one fateful night. The green pile of goo that had been set out on plates as if it was anything close to food. The horror from Roman’s dad Patton when the king returned to find such a sad excuse for a meal.

Although, Roman and Virgil had ended up feasting on roasted chickens tossed in bread crumbs and golden strips of potatoes that evening, after the initial disgust and panic; it was the highest form of cuisine, in Roman’s humble opinion.

The rumble of Roman’s words in Virgil’s ear was soft, comforting. Even when laughing, the prince stayed gentle for Virgil’s sake. He felt Roman’s arm wrap around his shoulders, and the prince began carding fingers through his knight’s hair as he rambled, planning out the grandiose party they would host.

After a while, Roman’s hare hopped closer to the pair, and the prince lifted her gently into his lap to stroke her ears. He went quiet, staring off into the middle distance as if contemplating the woods beyond. The crackle of their fire and the calls of distant birds was the only noise for a long while, before suddenly Roman looked to Virgil again and asked, “Will you dance with me?”

Virgil flushed, a little embarrassed, as he admitted, “I don’t know how to dance. And we don’t have any music.” The rabbit turned to sniff at his cheek, as if sensing his discomfort.

“I could teach you,” Roman said gently. “It’s easier to learn when you can go slow.” He gently nudged the rabbit off his lap, and she wandered away to forage for more treats, always staying close enough to watch the pair. Roman stood, and offered a hand to Virgil, which the knight took with little hesitation. The prince pulled him close, so that they were chest to chest, and put a careful hand around Virgil’s waist.

Roman was always so warm; his hands soft and welcoming, his heart steady and soothing. Virgil felt himself relax, even if he was about to make a fool of himself. He faintly remembered one of his fathers trying to teach him a few steps, all while Virgil stood on the tops of the elder’s feet.

It hadn’t gone well.

Roman began to carefully guide the pair in simple motions, holding Virgil’s hand and waist, leading him with confidence. If it were anyone else, the knight would have been staring at his feet, flushed scarlet in shame. But this was Roman, his Roman, who never looked at him unkindly.

His Roman, who sat with him as they shared books, and praised him for his ideas, and protected him from all of the strange beasts of the world. His Roman, who had never laughed at him, only with him. His Roman, who was staring into his eyes right now with all the adoration in the world, making Virgil feel like he could do anything.

His Roman, whose crown was slipping off his head again.

Virgil laughed, gently pushing the prince back and reaching up to straighten the crown. The taller man bent slightly, so Virgil could reach, and Virgil couldn’t resist the swell of bravery he felt as he softly leaned closer to kiss the prince’s forehead after the crown was set.

When Roman met his eyes next, they were filled with awe. As if Virgil had just slain some magnificent beast, or done something amazingly heroic. His hand came to caress Virgil’s cheek as they stared at each other.

“I love you,” Roman whispered, as if the world were only them. “I’m the luckiest man alive, because I have you by my side.” The prince returned Virgil’s kiss with his own to Virgil’s cheek, and Virgil felt his face heating once more.

“I love you too,” Virgil replied softly, almost surprised as the words came out of his mouth. “You make me feel like I can do anything in the world.” They pressed their foreheads together, feeling the world around them go soft and quiet’ as if it was only them, only this spot, that made up the entire universe.

But, of course, the moment had to end, as a familiar voice split the air from father off in the field.

“Roman! Your daddy’s here to pick you up!”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Patton couldn’t help a giggle at watching the two toddlers, even from afar. Roman’s face was split with a bubbly smile as he led Virgil, hand in hand, over from the edge of the playground. Virgil had his own tiny smile, and followed Roman like he was the other boy’s whole world. He was so proud of his baby; always looking after his little friend. Poor Virgil had had such a rough first month at daycare, and now he and Roman were almost attached at the hip.

“Daddy!” the kiddo cried, “Daddy we played prince again!” Roman’s yellow paper crown slipped from his head, (Patton suspected it wasn’t for the first time today) and Virgil tugged lightly on their conjoined hands, making the bubblier toddler stop.

It was hard not to squeal, watching as little Virgil retrieved the accessory, and very carefully set it back on Roman’s head, as if it really was made of gold. Patton also noticed that Virgil was carrying their shared toy, Mrs Fluffybottom, in the pocket of his onesie, and it was vaguely reminiscent of a kangaroo.

“Princes, again?” Patton asked, crouching down in front of the two boys. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the daycare attendant walk away, knowing Patton would take both boys home today. Roman nodded, and hummed an affirmative, his whole body bouncing with his excitement. Virgil, too, was bouncing, just a bit, and he swung their conjoined hands lightly.

“I’s a knight today.” the smaller toddler said softly. The daycare was doing a lot to help the boy with his confidence, and by extension, his enunciation. Still, Virgil speaking up at all was rare, preferring to follow Roman’s leads and let the other boy talk for him when adults or other kids were around. Patton gave the boy a warm smile, and ruffled both kiddos’ hair at the same time, producing the sweet sound of giggling.

“I’m sure you were a very brave knight,” Patton said, offering an arm in case Virgil wanted to be picked up. Both boys gave the affirmative, and Patton found himself with both arms full, hefting the two toddlers up and heading towards his car. “Are you kiddos excited for your sleepover tonight?”

Roman cried “Yeah!” as loud as he could, and Virgil hummed again, nodding against Patton’s shoulder. “Virgie is the best knight EVER!” he hollered, pulling his wooden sword from his pocket and kicking his feet as Patton buckled them in. “We’re gonna build a castle an’ bring out all the animals to be our subjects, an’ we’re gonna throw a party an’ invite everybody from all over!” He started to babble, planning out the story he and Virgil would be playing out when they got home; occasionally pausing to ask Virgil his opinion or ideas, to which the other boy offered that same soft smile and warm voice. They would have a ball, and dancing, and cake (if daddy said yes). Patton had a feeling he and Remus would end up in attendance at some point, and was already looking forward to seeing his eccentric artist husband crouching to play with their boy; whether that be crawling around as the monster for him to slay, or sitting cross legged at the coffee table holding a pink plastic teacup.

Patton loved how much Remus wanted to encourage Roman’s ideas. He loved how vibrantly Roman saw the world. He loved being the king to Roman’s storybook prince.

Patton tried to listen in as he drove, happy to hear his son so happy; and happier still to hear Virgil softly following along. He remembered a few months ago when the pair had met; the initial worry to find out that Roman was being bullied by a few of his classmates (and more worry to think that the boy hadn’t told them), and then not two days later Roman coming home to say that a brave knight had appeared to save him from those meanies. Then said he wanted said knight to come over and play after school.

Patton also remembered meeting Virgil’s fathers, being more than a little relieved to find that he and Remus weren’t the only gay couple in the neighborhood anymore, and there wouldn’t be any awkward comments or meetings for the boys’ sakes. Knowing that separating the kiddos would only do more damage to their development.

The pair really were wonderful for each other.

Roman helped Virgil feel safe, and the teachers had told both families how Virgil was more likely to try new foods for lunch, explore and play away from the teachers. He had even pet a porcupine when the class went to the zoo a few weeks ago. Patton had the photo of both kiddos gently touching the quills in wonder framed and attached to the fridge; he knew Logan had done the same.

In turn, Virgil reminded Roman to be more mindful and gentle. Patton smiled as he remembered taking the boys to the park so all four parents could actually talk, and watching Roman lead Virgil around by his hand, but also constantly check in on the smaller boy. Asking Virgil’s opinions, what he wanted to do, was he tired or thirsty?

Not that Roman had been fussy or selfish, but he had a loud and vibrant personality, and used to be prone to forgetting his manners. Now, though, Roman was more patient and careful. Always attentive to Virgil, and by extension, the other people around him. Even when Virgil wasn’t around, Roman had stopped throwing his toys around when he was upset, and more often asked his questions with please’s and thank-you’s.

Patton snuck another glance at the boys from the rear-view mirror, and his heart absolutely melted as he watched Roman lean over from his car seat and give Virgil a little kiss on the back of his hand, just like the knights and princes in his favorite movies.

Tonight, they would have pizza and maybe some ice cream, and cuddle up to watch movies. He and Remus would be tasked with building a fantastic castle of pillows and blankets. All of their little ‘kingdom’s’ stuffies would be brought out in force. If Patton was lucky, he’d get some pictures from the entire affair; if he was especially lucky, he would get a picture in the morning, of the two toddlers snuggled up in a messy blanket nest, exhausted from their fun.

Yeah. The kiddos would be okay.

#wacats writes #ts fic #sanders sides fic #prinxiety #fantasy au #human au #gift fic #writing prompts #art trade #ish #ask to tag

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stardustsides · 4 months

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A Midwinter’s Tale

Synopsis: Roman can’t say he’s ever had a stranger camp out in his yard before. He also can’t say that he’s ever met someone who carries their broken heart in a paper bag, but hey, first time for everything, right?

Ship: Royality

Word Count: 2,022

Content Warnings: Divorce mention, death mention, car accident mention

Author’s Note: This is a little wintery oneshot based on the play “Almost, Maine” by John Cariani, which I was in a few years ago! This is magical realism, so just suspend your disbelief :-)

There was a man in Roman’s yard.

Roman watched him from his window—he was hard to make out in the dark, but he was fairly sure that he wasn’t from Almost; he’d recognize him if he were.

He stared as the man wrestled with what looked like a tent—is he pitching a tent in my yard?—and set up a telescope, angling his face towards the sky full of stars. There had to be thousands of them—that was one of the perks of living in the middle of nowhere, no light pollution—and although he couldn’t clearly make out the finer details of the man’s face, he could see the way he clasped his hands in front of his chest in utter delight.

For a moment, Roman contemplated just leaving him to his own devices and going to bed, but he had to admit that he was intrigued—it wasn’t every day that someone would camp out in your yard, after all, and he couldn’t remember the last time someone from out of town came to visit.

He hastily stuffed his feet into his slippers, slipped his warmest robe over his flannel pajamas, and padded downstairs. He could see the man much better out of the downstairs window, and, for reasons he couldn’t really explain, he spent a moment just watching him stare at the sky.

After a second, though, he realized that he was probably going to look like a total creep if the man saw him, so he decisively opened the door and quietly slipped out into the freezing winter air.

He shivered—growing up in northern Maine had instilled a high tolerance for cold weather in him, but a small part of him still wished that he had worn a coat—and stood on his doorstep. The man didn’t seem to notice him.

“Um…hello,” Roman started, venturing closer, and the man startled a bit, turning to look at him.

“Oh!” He exclaimed, both mittened hands springing to his heart, possessively clutching a brown paper bag. In the back of his mind, Roman registered that the man was very pretty—he had what he’d describe as “puppy dog eyes”, big and wide and brown, partially obscured behind a pair of round glasses, and a generous amount of freckles scattered across his rosy cheeks and nose. He had both a knit pom-pom hat and earmuffs on, but Roman could still make out a curl of brown hair sticking out from underneath it. “I’m sorry! I didn’t see you there!”

“It’s okay,” Roman responded, looking quizzically at him. “Can I…help you?”

“Oh! No, that’s okay, thanks!” He said cheerily. “I’m just here to see the northern lights.”

“…Okay,” Roman said slowly, cocking his head. “I’m sorry, it’s just—you’re in my yard—?”

“Oh, I hope you don’t mind!” He chirped. “I just needed somewhere to camp for the night, and this is just such a great stargazing location because of how open it is, so I’ll only be here for tonight and then I’ll be gone!” He paused. “I hope you don’t mind,” he said again emphatically. “You don’t mind, do you?”

“No,” Roman said, smiling a bit. “I don’t mind.”

“Oh! Good!” The man sighed with relief. “Y’know, it said in your brochure that you wouldn’t mind—see, I’m a hiker, and it said in this brochure—“ he produced a thick pamphlet from the inside pocket of his winter coat, “that Maine people generally won’t mind, because you’re all about exploration and adventure and all that, so!” He let out a happy huff of breath. “I’m glad that you’re so kind and that you’re letting me stay here, because I really need to!”

Roman tilted his head, amused. The man was all smiles, and the way he spoke was endearing, as if he couldn’t talk as quickly as he thought of new things to say. “Why do you need to?”

“Because I need to see the Northern Lights tonight! And this is the perfect spot! It’s so open,” he repeated.

“It used to be a potato farm,” Roman explained. The man nodded.

“Makes sense. No trees! Are you a farmer?”

“Oh, no. I’m a waiter,” Roman paused. “I’m really a writer, though.”

The man gasped and clasped his hands together. “A writer? What do you write?”

“Oh, mostly just romances. I’d like to get more into fantasy, though.”

“Wow,” the man breathed, looking genuinely amazed. Roman was oddly flattered. “That’s incredible! Wow. A real writer! Are you published? Wait, no—that’s a stupid question, it doesn’t make you any less of a writer if you’re not published, of course, and I know that there are some people who just write for themselves! Are you one of those?”

Roman couldn’t help but laugh a bit at the word-vomit. The man was looking at him, those big brown eyes wide and unfathomably earnest, and Roman’s heart felt a little melty all of a sudden.

“Don’t worry! I’m technically published, in the Almost town paper, so I have an audience of about twenty.” The man laughed, a light, bell-like sound, and Roman’s smile only grew wider. “But I’ve been trying to sell my creative work to actual publishers. You’re right, though—I do mainly write for myself, and what I’d want to read.”

“That’s such a great talent to have,” he sighed wistfully. “I’ve never been much of a writer—I’m more of a traveller, meet all the people I can, y’know? Gosh, don’t you think it’s crazy how every person you’ve ever passed on the street have their own lives that are just as complex as yours? That’s so much life!”

“So many stories,” Roman agreed, and the man nodded, the tuft of curly hair bouncing against his forehead. “That feeling’s called ‘sonder’, by the way.”

The man’s face lit up. “Really? I had no idea there was a word for it!”

Roman grinned. “Yeah, well…it’s funny, because when you live in a town as small as this, you never really get that feeling, because you already know who everyone is.”

“That’s true! I hadn’t thought of that!” The man paused for a moment, thinking. “What town is this, by the way? It’s not on my map.”

“Well, we call ourselves ‘Almost’, but it wouldn’t be on your map, because we’re not technically a town. To be a town, you’ve gotta be organized, and, well, we almost got around to doing that, but never did, so now we’re just ‘Almost’.”

That bell-like laugh again. “Well, it’s lovely up here. So much sky.” He gasped. “Oh! Where are my manners? Set up a tent on someone’s lawn and don’t even tell them your name! I’m Patton.”

“Patton,” Roman repeated, trying it out. It was a soft-sounding name, the kind of name that sounds familiar even when you’ve never met anyone else with it. It suited him. “I’m Roman.”

Patton smiled, and it was dazzling. “Nice to meet you, Roman.”

And for a moment, they stood in companionable silence, staring up at the sky and listening to the sounds of the midwinter night all around them, when suddenly Patton gasped, a ragged, shuddery breath that made Roman jump.

“I need that!” He yelped, pointing at his brown paper bag that had somehow found itself into Roman’s hands. Roman stared at it quizzically. He didn’t remember taking it.

“Oh, I’m sorry—“ he started, handing it back to Patton. He snatched it back and held it close to his chest, relaxing a little.

“No problem,” Patton replied, infinitely calmer than he was a second ago. Roman stared, bewildered. When Patton made no move to explain what had just happened, Roman cleared his throat again.

“So,” he started. “Where are you from?”

“Oh,” Patton started, and waved his hand around vaguely. “I wander a lot, you know, travel around, but my husband and I had an apartment in Colorado.”

“Oh, you’re married?” Roman felt the tiniest twinge of disappointment.

“Well, not anymore,” he responded. “We had been separated for about a year, but since he died recently, I’m here to pay my respects.”

“Oh,” Roman said dumbly, unsure of what to say at such a revelation. “Oh, I’m so sorry.”

Patton shrugged, but his eyes stayed trained carefully on the sky. “My mom used to tell me stories when I was little about how when you die, the northern lights are the pathway leading you to the afterlife. Like, the lights are the souls of the recently departed and all that. So I have to see the Northern lights, because that’s him.”

“Oh,” Roman repeated.

Patton glanced over at him sheepishly. “I know it’s silly.”

“No,” Roman blurted. “It’s not silly at all.”

Patton smiled then, a sweet, sad thing that made Roman feel warm from the inside out, like drinking a mug of hot chocolate or a bowl of his favorite soup on a cold day.

And then Patton gasped again.

“I need that!” he wheezed, clutching his chest and grasping at the brown paper bag that had, once again, inexplicably found itself in Roman’s grasp. “It’s—my heart, I need it, give it back—“

Roman practically threw the bag at him, and, once more, Patton’s expression settled immediately. He looked completely normal, if not a little embarrassed.

“Thanks,” he said, catching his breath. “Sorry.”

“Um…no problem,” Roman said belatedly. A thousand questions were firing in his head, and he grasped at them desperately, willing his voice to work. “Your heart?” he managed finally. “I’m sorry, is that what you—?”

“Oh,” Patton looked down bashfully, the embarrassed smile on his face contradicting the ever so slight waver in his voice. “Yeah. Uh…well, last year, I came home early from work, and found my husband in bed with someone else, and, well, when I saw, my heart just broke. Shattered. Into nineteen pieces.” He held up the paper bag and shook it. “Put it in here, and I’ve had to carry it around ever since.”

“Oh,” Roman began, unsure of how to respond. “I’m so sorry.”

“A few months later, he came back—knocked on my door, begging me to take him back, and—well, I’ve never had the easiest time saying ‘no’ to people, so telling him to leave was the hardest thing I’ve ever done…he was so upset that when he left, he didn’t notice the car headed right for him.” His voice broke off, and he lapsed into silence. “I can’t help but feel like I killed him.”

“No,” Roman said, with a conviction that surprised both himself and Patton. “Patton, I—I’ve only known you for ten minutes, and even I can see that you’re one of the most goodhearted people out there. It isn’t your fault.”

Patton hastily wiped a tear from his cheek. “Thank you. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to…you must think I’m crazy, a strange man with a broken heart in a paper bag crying about killing his ex-husband on your lawn.”

“I don’t think you’re crazy.” And just like that, the bag somehow found itself in Roman’s hands again. He held it out to Patton. Patton hesitated.

“It’s never done that before.”

“Does it hurt?” Roman asked, suddenly curious.

“Sometimes. But in an empty way, like how your stomach hurts when you’re really hungry. Mostly, it just feels hollow.”

“Have you ever tried to…piece it back together?”

“Yes, but it’s never worked. Glue, tape…they don’t stick.”

Roman clutched the bag tighter. “…May I?”

Patton’s eyes grew impossibly wide, and he nodded haltingly. Carefully, Roman opened the bag, and peered into it. It looked like shattered red glass. He took out two pieces. He could hear Patton’s breath catch.

They sealed back together seamlessly.

They looked at each other in stunned silence. Patton held his chest, but he didn’t seem to be in any pain.

The Northern Lights exploded overhead. Patton gasped, and tilted his head back in awe. “Goodbye,” he whispered into the night.

He looked back down at Roman, who had found himself on one knee. He normally would have been mortified, but instead, all he could do was hold out the delicate glass heart, whole and lovely, to Patton.

He smiled tearfully down at Roman and laughed a bit. “And hello.”

#sanders sides #my writing #roman sanders #patton sanders #royality #romantic royality #thomas sanders #ts sides #ts fic #sasi fic #sasi

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threecrowsinatrenchcoat · 2 months

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Chapter 33: Now, Remus

[AO3 Link]

Remus woke in an unfamiliar bed. He was warm and comfortable, and well-rested in a way he only ever was after a night in an inn. He and Janus rarely had the cash to spare for one of the nice inns, but when they could, they did. Janus always spend a good hour setting up protections on the room before they slept, and mornings were usually a hurried affair of putting on their disguises and leaving before the other inn patrons had begun gathering in the meal hall for breakfast.

This morning was different. For one, Janus wasn’t even in the room. It took Remus’ drowsy brain a few minutes to remember that Janus was in the room across from his. It took his brain another few minutes to remember Logan Centauri was in the room next to his.

[continue on AO3] | [read from the beginning]

#intrulogical #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #ts fic #logan sanders #remus sanders #kye writes #i thrive on comments and feedback

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spoondrifts · 7 months

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i vaguely hinted at this eldritch abomination family horror fic some months ago, and now i deliver! featuring remus haunting the narrative, gratuitous references to lovecraft, graphic body horror (delicious!), and virgil thinking they're in a wholesome road trip recovery story while roman actively succumbs to otherworldly horrors in the passenger seat. enjoy!

#sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #ts fic #my writing #creativitwins #ts roman #ts remus #ts virgil #ts patton #ts janus #ts logan

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iclaimedtobethebetterbard · 2 years

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if you're going my way, i'll go with you - chapter 12

Fandom: Sanders Sides Characters: All the sides, character!Thomas, minor/background OCs Rating: Teen & up Relationships: Creativitwins Warnings: This chapter is just purely angst without any happy ending, because it is a flashback. There is: language, lots of references to child abuse, a minor burn injury, a death threat, getting kicked out, being forcibly separated from loved ones, a few instances of misgendering from the evil dad, and one (censored here, uncensored on ao3) use of the f slur. Word count: 2250

Read on AO3!

My writing masterpost

start - previous - here - next - masterpost

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NOTE: This chapter is a flashback, taking place 5 years & 4 months before where we're at in the main story! Check the warnings. If you don't want to read this chapter, you will not miss out on any plot.

note 2: the correct pronouns are used for roman in the narration of the chapter, even though neither he nor remus knew about that yet, bc it feels better that way. there is still a bit of misgendering from the evil dad.

Chapter 12

Remus waited, lying in the dark with his eyes open, listening intently until he was absolutely certain both his parents were asleep for the night and they weren’t waking up. Silently, he rose from his bed, arranging his pillow beneath the covers so that, at least at a glance, it would look like he was still there beneath the covers. Ever so slowly, he eased open the window, its glide smooth and silent thanks to all the times he’d smuggled in supplies to grease it. The climb from his window to that of the room next to his was easy; he’d done it thousands of times, always careful not to make a sound, replacing the screens of each window behind himself. It was a slow process, taking care to maintain absolute silence, but he’d streamlined it over the years and now it took closer to five minutes than fifteen. He had to use the windows, because Ro’s door creaked, and their parents knew that it creaked and kept it that way on purpose, so there was no secret greasing to fix that.

Ro was pretending to sleep, and was remarkably adept at it for a six-year-old. But as soon as Remus pried open the screen to his room, he bolted upright in bed, waving with both hands and grinning wide, eyes big and bright in the moonlight. Remus gave an answering grin, but didn’t speak as he climbed through the window, dropped silently from the sill to the floor, and replaced the screen. He padded to the bed, avoiding the floorboards that would creak, and climbed into it. “Hi, squirt,” he breathed.

“Hi,” Ro whispered back, beaming from ear to ear and climbing into Remus’s lap. “I wanna hear a story!”

Remus put his arms around the tiny child, cradling him close against his chest. “Yeah?” he murmured, trying very hard not to cry as Ro nodded eagerly. Ro was warm and soft and solid and real, and as close to safe as was possible here in his arms, and tomorrow—

Tomorrow, that would probably not be the case.

Remus smiled down at Ro and kissed the top of his head, reaching over to grab the hairbrush off his sidetable. “Sounds good,” he said lightly. “What kind of story?”

Ro wiggled happily. “A happy one. With lots of heroes.”

“You got it, kid,” Remus whispered, and took only a few seconds to think before launching into a story that was soft and comforting and full of good things for the princess at its center. Even after he’d brushed all the knots out of Ro’s hair and put the brush back, he didn’t stop talking, simply inventing more and more nice things for the princess to do, from a tea party to a parade to a pillow fort, until Ro’s breathing slowed and gentled and his little limbs went limp and heavy with sleep against Remus.

Remus carefully put Ro down in the middle of the bed and laid down beside him, curling protectively around him and holding him close. Ro nestled into Remus’s hold easily and instinctively, gripping onto his pajama shirt with his little hands.

Remus bit the inside of his lip hard, blinking away the tears once more. He began running his hand through Ro’s hair, his other arm still curled around the child, holding him close as he kept a close eye on the clock on the other side of the room.

When five-forty-five ticked past and the window began to threaten the first tricklings of dawn, Remus pried himself away from Ro, pretty certain that he was ripping his own heart clean out of his chest and leaving it in Ro’s tiny hands. “Love you, Ro,” he murmured, bending to kiss his forehead.

Ro, who was an incredibly light sleeper, shifted and rolled over, blinking up at him sleepily. “Love you,” he echoed, smiling. “Happy birfday.”

Remus forced a smile. “Thanks,” he whispered. “Go back to sleep now, mmkay?”

“Kay,” Ro responded obediently; his eyelids drooped closed as Remus kissed his forehead again.

Remus waited for just a moment more to be sure Ro had gone back to sleep before he climbed out the window and back to his own room, stifling hot tears all the way. In his room, he pulled out the crumpled, smudged piece of torn notebook paper in his pocket, and dragged out his prepared backpack from under the bed. He ran over the checklist on the paper one last time, then pulled out the lighter hidden under his mattress and carefully, carefully burned the list. It singed his fingers at the end; he clenched his teeth until the initial pain subsided to a duller throb. He couldn’t risk running cold water or seeking out burn cream right now.

Even though the list was gone, he looked through his backpack one more time. He zipped it up, slid it under his bed, made sure it wasn’t visible from the door or standing next to the bed, and finally climbed into his bed just as the sun peeked through the window. He hid his face in the pillow, telling himself it was to block out the light and not at all to stifle the silent sobs he couldn’t hold back any longer.

The moment he managed to get his tears back under control, he focused on swallowing down the rest of the long cry that he wanted and did his best to act like he was asleep. It helped that he was exhausted; he actually thought that he might have dozed off for a bit, though he wasn’t sure.

Regardless, the noise of footsteps in the hall was enough to bring him to full consciousness and leave him tense and stiff beneath his blanket. He heard his dad use the restroom, shuffle back to his own room, and return a moment later to the bathroom, probably this time for personal grooming.

Remus closed his eyes, breathed deep, and forced himself to relax in a mockery of sleep, even as he heard his dad walking back down the hall.

There was no noise of the door opening, of course; Remus had lost “having a bedroom door” privileges long ago. The footsteps came to a stop right next to him.

“Get up,” his father said, roughly pushing at his shoulder.

Remus sucked in a breath, as if being startled awake, although it was barely even acting. He rolled over onto his back and pushed himself up on his elbows in one motion. “What—?” His voice faltered at his dad’s glare.

“Get dressed and come outside in the next five minutes,” was the cold answer he received.

“Can—” Remus swallowed, sitting all the way up. He’d known this was coming. He’d thought he could do it, thought he’d said his goodbyes.

He’d been wrong. He could stand most things. Not losing Ro.

“Can I say goodbye to Ro?” he asked, voice coming out small and timid. It would hurt. It would hurt so badly to see him again, and Remus knew he wouldn’t be able to handle it. But leaving him was even worse.

His father’s face darkened. “No. I don’t want you anywhere near her.”

“It’s my birthday,” Remus pleaded.

“If you really loved your sister, maybe you would have thought of that before you tried being a little [f slur] under my roof,” his father snapped. “I don't want you anywhere near her.”

“Danni’s a girl,” Remus protested reflexively under his breath. And it had been years since he dated her, anyway.

“What was that?” his dad snapped.

Wow. A warning. He didn’t usually get those. Happy fucking birthday to him.

Remus bit the inside of his cheek and didn’t say anything, staring at the ground.

That seemed to satisfy his dad. “Outside,” he repeated. “In four minutes.” He turned on his heel and left.

Remus took in a raggedy breath, scrubbed the fresh tears from his eyes, and changed lightning-fast into the outfit he’d laid out last night, pulling his backpack from under the bed and slinging it over his shoulders. He slipped the most important things into the secret pockets he’d sewn into the insides of his jeans and the lining of his coat: the key to the apartment he’d put down a down payment for last month, lying about his age so he could sign the contract; the card to his (secret) bank account, where he kept the money he earned at the (secret) part-time job he skipped school for; the shitty old phone he’d saved up for (in secret) and bought secondhand; and his driver’s license, the only one of these items that his parents even knew about. There was a decent bit of cash already sewn into his coat, too. In case his dad wouldn’t let him take the backpack with him, he should still have the essentials. He left the phone his parents had given him—new and expensive and completely under their control—on his desk and stepped out into the hall. He was pretty sure it had been only three minutes—he had gotten very good at keeping track of time.

But his dad was standing at the end of the hallway with his arms crossed, so Remus couldn’t slip into Ro’s room for one more goodbye. He shouldered his backpack a little more firmly and trudged down the hallway.

There was a soft creak of a door, and Remus froze.

“Remus?” came a little voice.

Remus’s dad’s face darkened, but he didn’t say anything or move.

It wasn’t fair, it wasn’t fair, Remus’s heart had already broken today, this was too much, he couldn’t do it—

He stilled his face and turned. Ro was standing there in his pink pajama set, rubbing his eyes.

Remus took a few steps back down the hall, knelt, and hugged Ro close. “Go back to bed, squirt,” he said gently, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Ro clung to his shoulders as he tried to pry away. “Where are you going?”

“I dunno,” Remus admitted, and couldn’t quite keep the faintest tremor out of his voice. When Ro looked distinctly more frightened, he added, “On an outing. I’ll see you later. Go back to bed now, okay?”

Ro hugged him tightly. “Okay…”

“Good.” Remus pressed another kiss to Ro’s temple and whispered in his ear, “I’ll come back for you. Promise.” He sucked in a breath and got back to his feet, watching Ro cast a nervous glance at their dad and scamper back to his bedroom on tiny, silent feet.

Remus blinked hard until the tears blurring his vision went away, turned, and followed his dad out of the house. He got into the car on the passenger side without protest when his dad pointed at it. As the car pulled out of the driveway, Remus caught a glimpse of Ro’s face and two hands, pressed against his bedroom window and staring out at him; his small face was scrunched up in abject misery.

Remus set his face, shoving down the answering stab in his heart, and stared straight ahead through the windshield. Just a couple of months. Just enough that he knew his new job would work out and he’d have enough money to feed and clothe Ro, and then he’d come back and figure out some way to get him away from them.

Both he and his father were silent during the car ride. Remus had no idea where they were going; it didn’t really matter. He’d been under no illusions about what would be happening today. His parents had made it all too clear how eager they were to get rid of him at the first opportunity.

His dad drove without speaking for almost an hour, all the way out of the suburb and across to the far end of the city, until the buildings they were driving past were ones Remus had rarely seen before even though he’d lived in Sandersville all his life. At last he pulled up to the curb. “Get out.”

Remus swallowed, mouth dry, and unbuckled his seatbelt, dragging it out as long as he could.

“Don’t come back,” his dad added.

Remus rolled his eyes, opening the door of the car. “Yeah, yeah, I get it.”

“If you come near your sister, I’ll kill you.”

Remus clenched his hand where it clutched the side of the door. He couldn’t even tell if he was meant to take that literally or not.

He swallowed back the sick feeling in his throat. Say it. Say it. He could say it now. He had to say it now. While he still had the chance.

He turned back to face his father, voice quiet but steady. “I hate you.”

There was silence for a heartbeat. Another. Remus could feel his hands starting to shake in spite of himself.

“I don’t care,” his dad said.

Remus felt the words like a blow to the chest. He let the car door fall shut and watched, almost numb, as his father did a u-turn and drove away. The car turned a corner and vanished from sight.

Remus’s legs gave out from under him and he collapsed to sit on the edge of the sidewalk, pulling his knees to his chest and shaking all over, staring into the distance with unfocused eyes, breath ragged and harsh and loud.

It was not quite eight o'clock on the morning of his eighteenth birthday, and Remus Kingsley was all alone.

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