Are we gonna do this or what?

“What happened?”

Janus looks disparagingly at the ridiculous paper hat with the inscription ‘Dunce’. He crosses his arms in front of his chest, already knowing that he will not like the answer.

“Teach punished me for being a bad boy.”

Remus shows him a wide and reckless grin, looking actually proud of that incident. He probably is.

“So Logan gained the upper hand?” Janus asks just to be sure, teeth-gnashingly.

That didn’t go according to plan. He had sent the Duke for a reason. No one could create chaos better than him. The perfect trigger. Janus knows that, relied on it. But they failed. Again.

“We have lost a battle, not the war.” Remus shrugs his shoulders, carelessly, as if this all is not a great kick in the ass.

Janus stares at him and feels his left eyelid begin to twitch angrily. He hates it when everything goes wrong and there is no one to threaten, blackmail or blow up for it. He can’t cope with that.

“It’s not that bad, Jan,” he still insists. “I gave him a hard time, you know. Bear-trap, nails in his cornflakes, a zombie in the closet… I even sang pathetically.”

When Remus says such crazy things, they always sound like they actually make sense. It’s a talent.

“Common, let me show you.” He came closer, one hand already on his shoulder.

“Remus, buddy, yet is not the time for-”

Before Janus even starts to realize what’s happening, he finds himself on a stool with a butt rubbing his lap, dangerously close to his best piece.

“…”

Remus smirks, revealing a shark-like grin. He looks a bit sexy, but only a little, and Janus is too frustrated to acknowledge that. Hidden somewhere behind shapeless clothes and puffed sleeves from the designer hell, a ridiculous moustache and centimeter-thick makeup, Remus actually has a pretty face with finely cut features and puppy eyes. Rarely does anyone get to see that, because Remus doesn’t necessarily peddle it around.

“What are you doing?” Janus hisses, sounding like a snake ready to bite.

Undeterred, Remus continues. “Giving you an example how I drove Logan crazy.”

Janus closes his eyes and exhales audibly.

“Don’t tell me…”

“Not exactly like this, but I think you get the point.” Remus turns his head in Janus’s direction and laughs. He can feel his breath gently vibrating on his scales. “And you’re hot when you’re angry.”

“No! I’m angry when I’m angry.”

That’s a lie. Or something in between.

Only Remus ever dares to call him ‘hot’ and means it, which is perhaps down to the fact that he has a twisted taste, anyway. What person with sanity and reason would find a snake face attractive?

“Get off my lap or I’ll kill you.”

“You don’t.”

“Want to bet?”

Needless to say, that Remus stays where he is. He even has the audacity to lean back and rest on Janus’s chest. This sneaky rat!

Sometimes Janus wishes that Remus wasn’t so indifferent to death threats.

“Fine,” he says and wraps his arms around him like a boa around its prey. Tight and deadly. But not as deadly to honestly harm him, though.

For a couple of seconds they remain in silence, marvellous silence, which is so damn atypical for Remus that it should worry Janus. It doesn’t, however. Janus can feel Remus’s chest gently moving with a regular breath. It’s soothing. Somehow the annoying bastard always manages to calm him down in a strange way. Janus should be concerned.

“He’s almost back, Jan. I could see the orange glim in his eyes,” Remus whispers, sounding more sincere than one would ever expect from him.

“Hm,” huffs Janus, vaguely, loosening his grip a bit. Excitement and fear suddenly fighting in his chest. Well, that’s what they hoped for. Right?

The orange side has always been somewhat uncontrollable, though. Not uncontrollable in a way like Virgil, who had unexpectedly abandoned Janus for becoming one of the good guys. Ugh.

Before Janus can think about how uncontrollable and impulsive Remus is, he already starts to bounce from one buttock to the other.

“What now?”

“I’m bored,” Remus complains.

Even though he could have freed himself from Janus’s grip long ago, he still sits on his lap, inexplicably. Well, Remus has a lot of little things about him that defy any explanation. That’s a given. On top of that, he is terribly annoying. But at least he would never betray Janus, never let him down.

“We should do something,” Remus adds impatiently.

What Janus likes about that addition is the small word ‘we’.

“You still have to demonstrate me how Logan lectured you.” Janus clears his throat. “Are we gonna do that or what?”

There’s silence again. Then a strange mixture of an unreadable and mischievous grin slowly begins to spread on Remus’s face. “Okay.”

There is not much room in Janus’s life and in his thoughts. Not for other things except crazy plans and this web of deceit. Around Remus, however, there’s sometimes silence, elusive but undeniably marvellous.

Summary: The consequences of Deceit’s actions…

<<Chapter 2

Watch the animatic here.Check out the Downside au @robinsdownside!

Checking into the hotel had been almost tooeasy. He had learned quickly that if you just went about as if you knew what you were doing, people wouldn’t question you. He even enjoyed acting calm about the whole thing, despite how crazy his heart was racing. After signing the papers to check in and getting the card key, he brought his suitcase up to his room and locked the door behind him, letting out a sigh. 

“Finally…” Clyde carried his bag to his bed and picked it up, slowly unzipping it and checking the inside. He pushed his old clothes out of the way until he saw the familiar plastic bag sitting underneath. The stolen money he had taken from the bank sat inside the unassuming cheap bag. Both the bestandworstthing that’s happened to him over the past 24 hours.

Taking the money was the most stressful and exhilarating thing he had ever experienced. The new scale on his left forearm was easily worth it. Why didn’t Remy see that? Imagine what they could do together. This was only just the beginning! With their powers combined, they could do so much more, be an unstoppable duo.

“He’ll change his mind eventually,” Clyde mumbled to himself. He knew his own powers didn’t work on himself and there’s no way he’d believe his own lies. Even still, he hoped Remy would understand him sooner or later. He hoped everyone would see what he was trying to do. Especially Virgil, whom he didn’t even get a chance to say goodbye to properly. He wasn’t even sure when he would see his little brother again, but he hoped it would be sooner rather than later.

—

Two Years Later

—

Middle school was the literal worst for Virgil. He could see people looking his way and laughing at him, judging him and whispering amongst themselves about who knows what. People had come up to him all nice , probably to ask him questions before they used it against him. That’s just what people do. His older brother had taught him that years ago.

That wasn’t even the worst of it. The worst thing was all of the lies. ‘I wouldn’t do that to you, Virgil’or ‘you can trust us’ before the inevitable stab to the back. He had more than enough of it. It hurt and made him second guess everything and, worst of all, it made him think of his brother more and more. Clyde would lie, sure, but it was always jokes or something silly or unimportant. He never lied to hurt Virgil! It had been two years since his parents had kicked Clyde out. Two whole years without his big brother he always looked up to. Two years of not knowing what had happened to him and never knowing if he would see him again. 

His parents had tried to throw out all of Clyde’s things. Virgil was able to hold on to a few knickknacks here and there. The big one, though, was Clyde’s pet snake. His parents planned on bringing him back to the pet store or giving him away, but Virgil would have none of it. The snake was innocent and Virgil cared for it just as much as his brother so it was just as much as his pet in his eyes. So, after a few arguments, they had agreed to let Virgil take over caring for the snake completely. Virgil went and did a lot of research on the ball python that he could. While he wouldn’t realize why his brother decided to name the python Monty of all things for another few years, Virgil loved that snake since it was the last real thing he had to remember his brother by. As he grew older, he tried wearing a lot of Clyde’s old clothes as well. His parents were less than okay with that decision. They kept trying to take him out clothes shopping and removing the old outfits, but Virgil wouldn’t budge. There wasn’t a lot that still fit him, but black went with a lot of things and Virgil knew he could get away with wearing that at least until he fully grew into everything else. 

With Clyde gone, his parents being unusually cold to him lately and Monty now his only friend, Virgil grew bored rather quickly. Home felt more like a box he was forced to sit in than a place of comfort it had once been.

After one of his lamps for Monty’s tank died out, Virgil decided to fiddle with it and fix the problem to avoid telling his parents. He knew he shouldn’t be afraid to ask but knowing their distaste for the creature, he didn’t want to risk somehow losing Monty. Virgil unplugged everything and handled the bulb carefully, inspecting it. A change of bulb had done nothing and the old bulb still seemed to be in working order. After a short while, he was able to figure out that there was a loose wire in the plug that just needed a bit of adjusting. It was something so minor and so easy to fix, but being able to take care of it on his own made him swell with pride.

It had piqued his interest and only grew after that. He began to look for more things that needed fixing. He started taking simple things apart and putting them back together to see how they worked. While Clyde had a silver tongue and could get himself out of most situations, it seemed like Virgil was able to create. It only seemed logical that he had decided to build the one thing he wanted most.

His first batch of, erm, ‘friends’ didn’t come out the best. LED lights for an eye and awkward limbs, he went back to the drawing board multiple times to simplify the design. His brain wanted them to look cool and flashy, but he started making them simple and building up from there.

His new talent for tinkering still had a lot to be desired. Most of his new toys were more like puppets he still had to control and move around and were barely able to do that. They were stiff and lifeless but Virgil was determined to work on them for as long as it takes to bring his vision to life. 

Whenever Virgil had any spare time at school, he took out some paper and tried figuring out what to do next. The next thing he’d have to learn and what he wanted to do. He tried ignoring the bullies the best he could no matter what, speed walking through the halls and making himself look as small as possible to avoid any trouble. But sometimes…

“Hey!” Virgil had been too busy looking down at his feet as he marched through the halls to his next class to realize someone was talking tohim. “Wait a second!”

Virgil felt someone grab his arm and tug him backward, stopping him in place. He turned around and saw a kid, taller than him, slightly out of breath from running through the crowded hall to catch up to him.

“You dropped this,” the kid held out some papers Virgil had scribbled some ideas on in his last class. In a flurry of embarrassment, Virgil reached out and grabbed the papers before rushing down the hallway to his next class. “Hey! At least say thank you!” He heard the other kid call out to him. Virgil ignored it as he turned into his classroom to hide away and hope to forget the whole thing ever happened. 

—–

Chapter 4>> TBA

Summary: Clyde tries his hand at ‘robbing’ a bank.

<< Chapter 1

Watch the animatic here. Check out the Downside au @robinsdownside!

TW: Cursing, mental manipulation

Clyde was anxiously sitting in his trashy car in front of the bank. He wasn’t too sure of the thing he was about to do. But he needed the money and he couldn’t crash at Remy’s place forever.

Checking his face in the rearview mirror again, he gladly noted that the makeup still hid his scales that seemed to like to appear more often on his face than anywhere else now. He also let his hair grow out quite a bit to hide them a little behind bangs that fell over the left side of his face. By now he nearly looked like an emo. Working with that style, he wore a gray scarf that hid the scales that had appeared on his neck as well.

Looking down on himself he wondered if his yellow shirt and black leather jacket were casual enough.

Yeah, probably. He was thinking too hard about this. Or not hard enough.

Breathing in through his nose and letting the air slowly out through slightly parted lips, he got out of his car. He could see his breath in the air in front of him. It has gotten pretty cold since he left his parents with the most valued things he had, including his pet snake, a few weeks ago.

With a faked confident walk as he squared his shoulders, he got closer to the glass door and stepped into the building.

He was extremely lucky, there were only three other people inside. Two women who worked there as the tellers and one man who was talking to the woman on the left, so Clyde went to the other teller on the right.

“Hello, sir. What can I help you with, today?” the brunette in the white blouse asked with a sweet smile.

Clyde put on as much charm as he could muster as he smiled back. “Hello there, I hope you’re having a lovely day. I’m here to make a withdrawal.”

He was good at pretending to be a more likable person than he actually was. He always wanted to be an actor, but never went to any auditions for school plays because of his social status as one of the “cool kids” that smoked and drank alcohol behind the school. The entire thing was an act in his school days, but he was good at adapting to change.

“Very well, your name sir?”

“Oh, no.” He chuckled “I was under the impression that you just wanted to give it to me,” his smile widened a little.

The woman gave him an amused sound, taking it as a joke. Out of the corner of his eye, Clyde could see the other man leaving the bank. It was just him and the two tellers alone, now.

“Good one, sir, but this would be easier with a name,” The woman spoke with a chuckle. The other teller woman went into a back door and slipped away for the moment. Perfect.

“Well if you want to call me something, I think you could just go with Deceit,” He spoke with a calmness he wouldn’t have thought he could muster at this moment. He felt his hands shaking and start to sweat as he held down his nervousness.

The woman’s smile faltered a little. “Excuse me?”

Clyde looked back over her shoulder to make sure the other girl was really gone. Then, he looked back into the sweet face in front of him which got more confused by the second.

The perfect opportunity.

He looked in her deep blue eyes.

“You wanted to giveme $50,000, right? That’s why I’m here.”

His left eye shimmered and glowed with a light yellow and he noticed the familiar sensation of an itch on his left forearm.

He still looked at the woman who stared back with a face he couldn’t quite put into place. It was nearly blank but still a little puzzled at his words.

That happened every time but he always felt the nervousness at that moment again and again. A million thoughts rushed into his head, like what if it didn’t work (again) or what if he phrased it wrong? Happens to the best, and this scenario was new to him.

This was the first time he did something really bad. Usually, he used his powers to get out of trouble for smaller things or to get free booze, but stealing $50,000 directly out of a bank, in bright daylight? That was insanity!

He had felt a weird sensation in his gut since he began ‘planning’ this. Honestly, this whole ‘rob a bank’ thing was an idea he and Remy had the night before while they were balls drunk in the basement of Rem’s parents. His parents that had no clue Clyde was even hiding there.

Rem was two years younger than him but was a pretty chill dude he had hung out with in school. He was the only one he could count on that wouldn’t snitch him out to anyone about his powers and where he was, because, well, he had powers too. Powers Remy’s parents weren’t very fond of, so they generally stayed away from the cellar.

The woman blinked as she awoke from a daze. The moment surely wasn’t longer than a second, but to Clyde, it felt like years.

The brunette locked eyes with him again and put her smile from the beginning back on.

“Of course, I remember now. It will only be a second, Mr. Deceit.”

——–

“Fuck! I did it!”

Clyde opened the basement door so fast he nearly broke it out of the old, rusty hinges. A very startled Remy, who looked like he had just been woken up, fought his way out of the blanket that had been lying on him.

He had been sleeping on his disgusting makeshift bed, which was made of just two stacked mattresses on top of the cold concrete ground. The basement looked like it should have been finished years ago but no one ever bothered to finish the job. At night, they took one of the mattresses off and slid it onto the floor next to the other so that Clyde didn’t have to sleep out on the bean bag. They had tried that the first night, but it resulted in a stiff back and a very grumpy Clyde in the morning.

Clyde– er, Deceit moved a few steps forward, to click on the floor lamp that only had an old light bulb screwed on top and no lamp shade. The lightbulb was a normal, fluorescent bulb which somehow exclusively produced greenish light. Clyde had asked about that the second day he had stayed here but Remy too didn’t exactly know why either, not that he cared.

With the light, the messy room had become a little more visible. It was even dirtier than Clyde’s old room had been, especially since he had moved in. They both didn’t really care enough to clean all the filthy clothes of the ground except when they ran out of fresh clothes, in which case Remy had to go upstairs with a decent sized pile that was unsuspicious to his parents since they didn’t have to know about Clyde’s existence in Remy’s room.

If they found out about the other kid with powers in their basement? That would mean massive trouble for both of them.

Remy’s guardians were already not on best terms with their son since he had intruded their dreams by accident on more than one occasion. They didn’t hate him but Remy had sometimes messed up their sleep so much that they were first confused what was happening, then they screamed at him to stop and at last, they started to get him out of the way.

He was ok with that. He was just in his basement room, enjoying his life without the worry that his parents would storm in.

But if they knew that he invited someone else to live at their house without their knowledge, they would be very mad. They would probably scream at him again and would call Clyde’s parents, even though he was actually old enough to live on his own, as a 19-year-old. Clyde just didn’t have the money to live on his own. He had been fired a few months ago from his job at the pet shop.

He had to leave his home weeks ago in order to hide his powers from his family as the scales became more and more obvious, so he came to the only one he knew that would at least understand.

It wasn’t much fun sleeping next to someone who had the ability to go into your dreams whenever both of them slept at the same time. Rem didn’t do it on purpose of course, the closer you sleep next to him the more likely it is that he just stumbles into your dream by accident. That’s why he had to sleep in the basement, while his parents slept on the third floor. They simply wanted him as far away at night as possible.

What the two did all day now was lying around in the dirty cellar on the green bean bag and the mattresses and talked about everything and nothing. Somedays they played games on the old arcade machine Remy had or they had matches on his kicker, all while smoking pot or drinking beer Clyde brought back every time he went out.

But not this time. This time he brought something better. Money. And lots of it.

Remy tried focusing on the guy with the weird scales in front of him as he blinked the sleep from his eyes, “Wha-?”

Deceit ripped away the blanket and threw a full plastic bag him. It hit him in the chest, where you could read ‘Never SLEEP again’ on a gray shirt, and caused him to lay down again with the bag sitting on top of him.

“I said I did it! I actually did it, I stole the money!” Deceit stood proudly next to the ‘bed’, hands on his hips, with the broadest smile Remy had ever seen on the guy. It kinda creeped him out, to be honest.

Then the bank robber turned around into the direction of the old foosball table and lifted his arm triumphantly into the air and tilted his head back so he looked at the ceiling.

“Oh my god! I feel great! This was way better than drugs!” he screamed in euphoria.

Remy leaned up on his elbow and let the bag fall next to him on the bed.

“Flippin’ shut up, man! You’re gonna wake the whole street shoutin’ like that.”

Deceit turned his head back to his friend, puzzled.

“It’s 5 in the afternoon?”

“Oh really? I’m up early,” the sleepy head grinned.

Deceit made a face at him that could only have meant ‘you fu**king serious?’

Rem’s eyes fell on the plastic bag next to him. With one hand he lifted a handle and looked inside. His eyes widened, only now had he realized what Deceit had actually done. He shot up straight on the mattress and put the bag on the ground so he could take a bundle of hundred dollar notes out. He ran a finger across the stop slowly as the reality of the situation began to sink in.

“Jesus Christ, you actually did it?!” he looked up shocked at the criminal who now faced him again. With the head movement, the green shade sunglasses that had apparently been lying on his purple dyed and messy hair the whole time he slept, fell onto his nose.

“Hell yeah, I did! And it was so easy too! Like stealing a lolly from a baby.”

The seventeen-year-old sitting on the mattresses gathered himself enough to get a little of his sass back.

“Cliché.” He looked back down to the pile of money. “Jeez, how much even is this?”

“50,000 bugs,” Dee’s eyes sparkled saying that.

“Holy shit. Holy shit, I can’t believe it! I thought we were just joking around yesterday! We were drunk for fucks sake!”

Remy would have never thought that Clyde would actually do something this incredibly stupid. They just talked like idiots about how they could have anything they wanted if they used their powers more, not that he ever actually considered doing so.

“Come on, just imagine what we can do with that much money!” Deceit stepped closer to him, gesturing with his hands.

“With the stolen money.”

“No one knows that!”

“Babe, don’t you think 50k will be missed? Where did you even get that from? The bank like we said?” he took his shades with his forefinger and thumb on the rim of the glasses and slid them down a bit so he could look into Deceit’s eyes.

“Yeah and no, no one knows I took the money. I made sure the woman was the only one there and I just made her give it to me.”

“50k in cash. Someone will miss that! They’re going to notice that much missing! Did you think of the cameras?” Rem’s eyebrows furrowed as he put his shades back on properly.

“I do not like to repeat myself. She just handed it to me! It looks completely innocent on camera. And as far as she knows, that money belongs to me.”

Deceit got frustrated with his friend. Just the night before he also loved the idea and now he was lecturing him?!

“You can’t keep the money here, babe. I’m not ok with that much stolen cash under my roof!”

“It will be gone soon anyway.” He tried again to reason. This was a good thing, why couldn’t he see it?

“You need to leave,” The voice sounded monotone.

Deceit’s shoulders fell. “What?”

“Clyde, sweetie, don’t get me wrong. I’m totally up for all kinds of stupid shit but that’s a bit too far man and I really don’t want to get in trouble because of you.”

“So, you’re throwing me out?”

“You have enough money to rent a hotel room,” he said gesturing to the bag at his feet.

Deceit looked with disbelief into the green-tinted sunglasses that hid Remy’s emotions pretty well.

How could he just throw him out? He thought the other would be happy about the money. He would have even shared it with him for letting him stay here, but now…

He growled “Fine. I’ll leave. I don’t need you anymore anyway. I can do whatever I want without you. Just don’t come crawling back to me when I’m ruling the city.”

“Sure thing rip-off Disney villain.”

“You’ve seen the last of me.”

With that Deceit took his luggage, bound the bag of money to it and lifted a small terrarium with Terrence in it under his arm and left the basement.

Remy let out a shaky breath into the stifling air of his room.

For a second there, he had been afraid that Clyde- no, Deceitwould use his powers on him.

—-

Chapter 3>>

Hospital AU

AU Summary:A fall. A single fall. It may seem like nothing until it’s all consuming. What happens when the doctors struggle to diagnosis the disease responsible for Virgil’s rapid deterioration?

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan, and sympathetic Deceit.

Pairings: Moxiety and Logince.

Word Count:1800

Warnings:Deceit.

  “Still?” Patton eyed Virgil scrolling through his phone again, voice delicate like silver bells, “what happened to putting the phone away?” Virgil’s back had been facing Patton as his fingers slid across the dimly lit screen, dawn already seeping through the window.

       “Insomnia’s a bitch.”

       “How long have you been up?” Patton edged closer, watching Virgil flop with an exasperated sigh onto his other side.

       “Well, considering that its 6am now, I’d say about 27 hours?”

       “Virgil Poole!”

       “Like I said insomnia’s a b-”

       “Bad,” Patton scrambled, interrupting to correct him this time around, “it’s bad.”

       Virgil laughed throatily, sputtering like an old water faucet, “sure thing.”

     Wagging his finger with disapproval, Patton strode towards the windows to shut the clanky blinds permitting the blooms of dawn. Pausing, Patton peered out to catch a glimpse of snow layered on the ground as if it were sheets of stringy, white felt. Instead of the apricot horizon he watched bathe skyscrapers morning after morning, he witnessed gray skies and powerful gusts slinging ice and snow. He knew Logan was right when he said that it would be a bad storm, but the worst storm in the history of NYC? It would certainly seem that way now.

     Finally closing the blinds, Patton held up one finger, an idea springing forward, as he darted out of the room, leaving Virgil alone again. He knew just what Virgil needed to fix his sleeping issue. And when Patton reappeared, Virgil was back to skimming posts on his phone like a Tumblr addict. Now stepping back into the room, Patton carried with him a pair of ear plugs and an eye mask, and most importantly a gummy grin.

       “These might help,” Patton offered, extending his hand holding the ear plugs and mask out to Virgil.

       “Ear plugs?” Virgil asked, his fatigued voice littered with confusion.

       “Well, it does get plenty noisy here! It should help block out the sound a bit to make it easier to sleep.”

       “…Thanks,” Virgil slowly grabbed the two items from Patton’s outstretched hand before finally looking back up at him.

       “No problem!” Patton was more than happy to be of help, “and if you still can’t sleep, you let me or someone else know, okay?”

       “..Okay,” Virgil fiddled with the ear plugs, waiting for Patton to leave before he plucked up the courage to put them in or the eye mask on.

       “Good, try and get some rest now, yeah?” Patton waited for Virgil to nod before sauntering towards the hallway and quietly shutting the heavy, suite door.

       Now ambling away from Virgil’s shaded room, Patton steered himself towards the elevators. To meet Logan in the cafeteria, he would need to go up one floor. So, tiredly, now much more aware of how much he felt like a worn-out shoe, Patton stepped up to press the elevators’ shabby, call button.

       “Hhhello, Patton,” a low voice crept up from behind him; if it were a snake, it would have bit him.

       Jumping at the voice’s proximity, Patton looked back, startled. But he immediately relaxed, a sigh of relief tumbling from his lips, when he recognized the deep scar darting from one corner of the figure’s mouth to their cheek, “you gave me quite a scare there, Dee!”

       “My bad,” Dee chuckled, moving to stand beside Patton as they waited for the same elevator.

       “It’s a’okay!”

       Nodding, Dee shifted on his heels, waiting for the elevator like one watched paint dry, “you look exhausted.”

       “Yeah, a twelve hour shift will do that to ya.”

       “Gross, how about I buy you a cookie or something sweet since you’re off now?”

       “Oh no, that’s no-” the elevator dinged, and the top triangle on the hall lantern lit up a dull amber color. After which, the doors skated open to reveal an empty, silver elevator car. “That’s not necessary, but thank you,” he finished.

     Accepting Patton’s response, Dee stepped into the box first, eyeing the way in which Patton followed after him, “Where to, Patton?”

       “The second floor.”      

   “Cafeteria?” Dee languidly reached out to press down the second floor button.

       “Yeah, ‘had a few things to take of first before finishing my shift.”

     It only took a few seconds for the doors to begin rattling shut with Patton and Dee inside, corralling them into the metal cage. And with doors shut, the floor rumbled its ascent as Dee leaned back against the cold, elevator railing. And within a moment, the elevator was suspended on the second floor, settling before the doors unhurriedly unsealed to divulge the cafeteria.

     Dee watched as Patton parted from him to survey the cafeteria in search of Logan. Patton didn’t see him standing by the food counter hunched over a display of muffins and deli sandwiches. And he didn’t see Logan by the hot chocolate machine or the coffeemaker. Instead, he found him tucked away with a steaming cup of cocoa in the far corner with a weathered book by himself.

     “Lo?”

     “Hm?” Logan hummed, turning his head as Patton quietly pulled a chair out from underneath the table to join him.

     “I see you got some hot chocolate and a book,” Patton inspected the mug, watching as Logan shut the navy book before pushing it out of the way and to the side, “but no marshmallows!”

     “Patton, they consist of almost entirely sugar. Most importantly, they add nothing to your daily intake of beneficial nutrients.”

     “Soooooo?” Patton disagreed, “they’re delicious.” If Patton had grabbed a mug of cocoa before sitting down with Lo, it would have been filled to the brim with minimallows just as he liked it.

     “They are unhealthy, Patton.”

   “Roman was right when he said you need to live a little,” Patton giggled, voice gentle like a warm ray of sunshine on a summer afternoon.

     Rolling his eyes at Patton’s remark, Logan looked away as he took a sip from his hot chocolate.

     “Oh, you know I’m only joking, Lo,” Patton reached out to touch Logan’s arm as he tried to suppress his giggling like a dam holds back water, “Here, let’s change the topic: how was your week off?”

     “It was adequate.”

     "Oh come on, Lo, tell me more.”

     “I saw my sister, so it was tolerable.”

     “Oh?” Patton inquired, hoping Logan would put everything out under the sun. But at times, Logan was like a locked door; rarely would he open those doors to share his past with anyone, even if that person was his best friend, Patton.

     “We were able to have a conversation this time.” A little bit slipped out. For the most part, he kept to himself; convincing Logan to talk about his sister was like pulling teeth without anesthesia. That conversation he had about the patient in the E.R with Roman had been an exception; his emotions, emotions that were like a kite tangled in the branches of an old oak, were scattered and running high.  

     “Guess it’s better than the last time, huh?”

       “Might we talk about something a little less emotionally charged? I am quite drained from today, Patton.”

       “Oh- yeah, sorry,” Patton cringed, heavy with regret for pushing Logan, “I know you don’t like to talk much about that…” He knew better than to keep pestering Logan over something he clearly wasn’t ready to talk about. He couldn’t expect Logan to unseal that locked door of his today.

       “It’s fine, Patton,” Logan waved it off like nothing had happened, “How was Virgil Poole when you checked up on him?”

       “Oh!!” Patton’s expression softened like butter left at room temperature, “he couldn’t sleep at all.”

       “Insomnia?”

       “Yeppers,” Patton sighed wistfully, “it’s the worst.” Being trapped with your own thoughts before daybreak was deafening; Remy always said that the shadows made lonely company.

       “If not, it’s something to look into. Not getting enough sleep can impair attention, reaction time, motor coordination, decision-making skills, and immune system functioning.”

     “Yeah.., I know what sleep deprivation does to the body, Lo,” Patton said a little distantly, eyes blanky transfixed on a spot over Logan’s shoulder.

     To the untrained eye, someone else would just assume Patton was only overtired from a long-lasting shift, but Logan knew better. He knew much better; he was acutely aware of what a Patton imprisoned in a field of distant memories looked like.

     “Pat?”

     A moment passed before Patton snapped out of it, “Yeah? ..sorry.”

     “Are you okay, Patton?” A flicker of concern skipped across Logan’s face; he wanted to oust the memory that had Patton tethered to his thoughts.

     “Just thinking…”

     “About?”

     “…Remy,” He admitted timidly.

     “Oh,” Logan was frozen into silence; Patton’s thoughts stood in the shadows no more. But Logan’s response had Patton shifting in his seat; he could feel the silence wafting in their secluded bubble as Patton darted his eyes to watch people seizing nearby tables.

     “Yeah…”

     Logan soaked it up before he could let an even more uncomfortable silence befall them, “How come?”

     “What do you mean ‘how come’?”

     “What made you think about Remy?”

     “I don’t know…,” Patton trailed off, fiddling with his fingers as he tried to avoid the inspecting gaze forcing him to take the center stage.

     “He reminds you of Remy, doesn’t he?” Logan remarked softly, watching as Patton’s gaze became transfixed on the table top. Unbeknownst to Patton, though, Logan’s eyes shifted slightly to see his own attending walking in their direction.

     Without looking up into Logan’s scrutinizing eye, Patton started, “Well, kind-”

     “I don’t mean to interrupt, but–”

     Startled by that voice a second time, Patton snapped his head up to spot Dee standing at the end of the table holding a couple of cookies wrapped in clear plastic before flittering his gaze between Logan and him.

     “I know you said you were fine, but the least I could do for jump scaring you earlier would be to buy you a cookie,” Dee set the cookies down, the plastic covers crinkling loudly. And from just a quick glimpse, Patton knew that they were his favorite type: chocolate chip.

       “That’s very kind of you Dee, but you know that you really didn’t have to, right?”

       “It was no problem,” Dee beamed, oblivious to the heavy, gray atmosphere looming silently over Patton and Logan, “I wanted to.”      

     “Thank you, Dee. I really appreciate it,” Patton smiled faintly up at him before reaching out a hand to grab one of cookies from their place on the center of the table.

       “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” Dee nodded, eyeing Logan before he turned on his heel to depart the pair, “I’ll see you in a bit, Logan.”

       “Certainly, Dr. Whittaker.”

       And with that, Dee sauntered away from the table and out of their personal bubble.

Tag list (ask to be added): @opaque-puppet@yayyyyanxiety@anxious-angel-wing@b0bsy0urunc13@shysquishyemowithglasses@buckydeangirl91@bunny222@felicianoromano  @ llamaly

Hospital AU

AU Summary:A fall. A single fall. It may seem like nothing until it’s all consuming. What happens when the doctors struggle to diagnosis the disease responsible for Virgil’s rapid deterioration?

Characters: Virgil, Patton, Roman, Logan.

Pairings: Moxiety and Logince.

Word Count:1830

Warnings: Swearing, death, and speaking about it (not main character death).

Chapter 1|Chapter 2| Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|

     “Logan… Lo-”

    “What Roman!” Logan snapped, whipping his head Roman’s way. Sweat dripped down his brow as he kept pressing the heel of his interlocked fingers down.

    “He’s been down forty-three minutes,” Roman said softly, fingers latching onto Logan’s arm.

    To his dismay, Logan roughly shook off his grasp. Nothing was working; the defibrillator atop the crash cart had done nothing to restart the child’s choked heart.

    Training his jaded eyes back onto the monitor, Logan watched on as the desperate pressing of his hands forged fleeting peaks. Ceasing again, Logan rattled his fist, his nails digging gratingly into his sweaty palm. And the crests were rapidly replaced with the shrill of the flatline buzz.

    ‘Fuck,’ he cursed under his breath, disregarding the throbbing ache in his arms and the sticky feeling of sweat hugging his skin as he began compressions again. The line of nurses waiting to take over had dwindled. And instead, tired eyes watched Logan’s adamant refusal.  

    “Logan,” Roman hesitated to reach out a second time, but the larger the crowd of patients that framed them, the faster he knew he needed to bring it to an end, “Lo, you need to stop.”

    “People have come back after having been down for longer,” Logan countered, rhythm faltering and voice strained.

    “Lo.., he’s been deprived of oxygen for too long.”

    LoganknewRoman was right. The longer the brain was deprived of oxygen, the worse the damage would be. Logically, he should stop. He should stop. What he was doing defied logic. But reason, faulty or not, told him that there was a chance; he’d seen it happen before. So, no, he can’t stop from pressing the heel of his palm down. He-

    “Stop, Logan,” Roman firmly grabbed Logan’s sweat-slicked arm, dragging him off the patient and onto the tile floor.

    “No-,” Logan spat coldly, trying to tug his arm free from the attending pulling him away, but that didn’t halt Roman from tugging him further as the monitor shrieked out a dying cry. It screeched at him, wailed at him, and squawked at him. And he wilted. He wilted hearing the shattering whine of the flatline. And he stopped fighting. He slumped, watching the nurses’ unplug the heart monitor; the call of the monitor vanishing like ships crossing the Bermuda triangle. Absent was the rise and fall of the child’s chest, and absent was the reassuring beep. Instead, reassurance was replaced by machine wheels being dragged away along scratched floors.

    Teal lips and muted, cold skin glaring at him from the corner of his eye sunk their teeth sharply into his memory. But what had, had tears springing into the corners of his eyes was the withered flower visage, the sagged shoulders, and the child’s arms limp at his sides. It was seeing them shelter the child in a flimsy, white sheet that caused Logan to truly depress.

    “F-Fuck off, Ro,” Logan shook, finally yanking his arm free. Stumbling, he turned, wiping away the tears before anyone could see them leave wet trails in their wake.

    “Logan-”

    Logan cleared his throat, shifting, and abruptly cutting off Roman.

    “The beta-blockers should have worked,” He, then, said all too controlled, fists clenched and watching on stiffly like a switch had been flipped. The Propranolol should have worked. Why hadn’t it worked?

    “I know, Lo,” Roman frowned with unease, guiding them both down the achromatic hallway. He’d never observed Logan as anything other than the stoic, calculating logicistian he so frequently gloated on being… “You know you didn’t do anything wrong, right?” Roman watched the other scrunch up his nose as if he’d been asked to try escargot.

    “The facts would seem to suggest otherwise,” Logan scoffed under his breath.

    “I know you know that sometimes people can’t be saved,” Roman opted to use logic against him as he ushered him through the mess room’s ajar door.  

    “I’m aware.”

    “Then you’d know it wasn’t your fault. Sometimes we just lose patients,” Roman said, shutting the door and steering Logan’s stiff frame to sit on the mattress beside him.

    “Yes, well-” Logan muttered, peeling away from the look Roman offered children to comfort them through a particularly painful injection, “Ihaven’t.”

    “Never?”

    “That is what I said.”

    When Roman fell silent, Logan glanced back at Roman to see his mouth curled downward like a bad omen. He was about to speak up when Roman suddenly interjected, “Do you know why I went into pediatrics?”

    “You’re too exuberant and animated for any other field,” Logan joked jadedly, scooting back further onto the bed, the mattress faintly creaking underneath him as he did so.

    “No- well, it does help with dealing with children, but no, that’s not the reason,” Roman shook his head, a choked laugh caught in the back of his throat.

    “Why then?”

    He’d piqued Logan’s interest, but Roman had fallen silent a second time - two times too many. For a man that was so boisterous and noisy at every possible opportunity, him sitting there with his hands resting limply in his lap was unnerving. It was far from the childlike energy he typically exuded.

    “…Roman?”

    “In my third year of med school.., I was assigned a pediatric oncology rotation-”

    “I do remember you mentioning that quite a few times. It would appear it had an impact on you.”

    “Yes…,” He wasn’t past the point of return, but in a moment of trust he proceeded, “but I’ve never told you about Layla.”

    “Layla?”

    “She was the bravest princess,” Roman smiled ruefully, head lolling forward slightly, “She adored my marvelous story telling; her favorite tale was the battle of the dragon witch and the strong, fearless princess!”

    Pausing to collect himself as history painfully nudged its way into the present, Roman continued, “Oh, Lo, if only you could have seen the dreams reflecting in her eyes and the way she lit up every room with her contagious smiles.”

     “More contagious than dear Patton’s!” Roman’s fragile smile straddled the edge of sinking again as his fingertips swiped away new tears over old memories.

    “What happened to Layla, Roman?”

    “She had acute myelogenous leukemia…,” he let out a shaky sigh as he reached into the past to tug those memories looser. Memories of Layla were fragile treasures, priceless glimpses of hope. Memories of her enacting a battle with Roman and striking him with a foam sword before she was too sick to get out of bed weren’t allowed to simply fade away. Those memories once left his heart mangled and weeping. But memories of Layla going wide-eyed as Roman spoke frivolously of the adventures of Princess Fiona and of Layla giggling wildly as Roman’s attending poked fun at him sprung forward with dizzying speed; short, happy time capsules of history nestled in Roman’s mind.

    “She was nine, Lo, and I blamed myself. I was the one that encouraged the transplant.”

    “But you know what?” Roman continued, drying his downcast eyes with his white sleeve, “she helped me; her story shaped mine.”

     When Logan didn’t say anything, Roman resumed, his voice freckled with an incurable ache, “There was a time when I tried to shake the memories because it hurt. It pained me too much, but it was Layla that made me fight for pediatrics.”

    And a silence fell over them.

    “I- I.. I don’t know what to say.”

    “Lo, what I’m trying to tell you is that we can’t save everybody no matter how hard we try, and I know you won’t admit how much it’s eating at you and how much it’ll eat at you because ‘it defies logic’, but I want you to get it into your brainiac head of yours that you’re not alone.”

    Glancing over at Roman, Logan saw the fences torn down by the man himself, “I- Thank you, Roman.”

——-

    “Ye- yes, Patton,” Logan nodded quickly,  interrupting Patton’s distressed rambling, and eyeing the way Roman disappeared back into the E.R., “I am fine. It was just a moment of weakness.”

    “Having emotions isn’t a weakness.”

    “Emotions are messy and unpredictable and precarious.” Emotions were far from the safe clutches of reasoning and deduction; emotions just weren’t Logan’s thing.

    “You shouldn’t feel guilty or view having feelings as a weakness,” Patton set the fact free from its fetters, “sure, sometimes, your feelings may not make sense, but it’s not your feelings job to make sense. You just… experience them. And you have to do your best to deal with them.”

   Logan stopped, pondered even, only to recycle pages of his own inadequate words and cycle through dozens more he wouldn’t share.

    “Yeah?” Patton cocked his head, picking up again, “understanding them and being in touch with them can give us a better outlook on our issues and our situations. And by understanding how they influence us, we can better evaluate ourselves.” He could tell he was starting to sway Logan, but Logan had long ago cocooned himself in the safety of rationality.

    “Have you heard of Antonio Damasio?” Patton pursued changing Logan’s mind like he chased after a second cookie.  

    Logan shook his head.

    “Well, Antonio Damasio noticed that when his patients lost the part of the brain that controlled emotions, the patients’ decision making abilities became very poor. So, where would we be if we didn’t have the emotional side of our brains?”

    “Huh…” Logan furrowed his brow, eyeing Patton incredulously, “you seem to make a sound argument, Patton.”

    “Hmm….,” after another wordless moment of careful contemplation, Logan spoke up again, “it would seem you are.. right, Patton.” Patton was right? What..? Patton was right…

    “Oh my juice! Really?” His spirit danced with reason to celebrate, lips stretched into a shocked grin.

    “…Yes,” Logan admitted, though he much preferred not having to say it a second time. It was like pulling teeth to hear him verbally acknowledge when he was wrong, but maybe that’s what made it so astonishing to hear.

    “Come ‘ere, hug time!”

    “Fine..” Logan grumbled, letting Patton wrap his arms tightly around him, his own limbs trapped underneath the sweet sunshine’s arms circling his torso.

    “Just know that I’m here for you, Lo,” Patton squeezed, looking up at Logan before letting go. He knew Logan didn’t particularly enjoy long hugs even if they were from him.

    “Thank you, Patton.”

    “Now, how about we go get a nice warm cup of hot cocoa?”

    “That would be satisfactory.”

    “Yay! Let’s g- Oh-” Patton started and then stopped, cogs turning before setting his own universe back in motion, “maybe I should see if Virgil’s up first? You did say you wanted me to keep an eye on him. Last time I checked in on him it was three ish?”

    “That’s right,” Logan said, waving his hand, “go ahead, Patton, I’ll meet you in the cafeteria.”

“Okay! I’ll be right behind you!” Patton leapt into motion with a pep in his step. He’d done good.

Tag list (ask to be added): @buckydeangirl91@bunny222

Hospital AU

AU Summary:A fall. A single fall. It may seem like nothing until it’s all consuming. What happens when the doctors struggle to diagnosis the disease responsible for Virgil’s rapid deterioration?

Characters:Virgil, Logan, Patton, Roman, and very brief mention of Sympathetic!Deceit and Remy.

Pairings: Logince & Moxiety

Warnings:Discussion of anatomy and very brief, sympathetic deceit.

Word Count:1865

Chapter 1|Chapter 2|Chapter 3|Chapter 4|Chapter 5|

     Virgil’s fingers curled around the stiff fabric resting in his palms as he meandered towards the white door frame. Twisting the iron knob as he went and shutting the heavy door behind him, Virgil pressed his back against the wooden plank, eyes fixed on the gown in his tight clutch.

     One breath. Two breaths. By the third breath, Virgil had rested the white fabric across the sink’s rounded edge before slowly discarding his ebony attire beside the gown. With his attire stowed precariously on the sink, Virgil reached for the dotted, white hospital gown.   

     With the loose-fitted gown lightly brushing against his knees, Virgil noticed an abrupt tremble in his hands. To steady his shaking grasp, he clung to the upper   edges of the bathroom sink as his gaze became transfixed on the mirror. His scanning eyes discerned the dangling of his bangs over charcoal eye shadow, his lips curled into a pout, and the oscillatory movements of his hands.

     Grumbling, he let his grip falter from the sink and head hang low. He needed a moment. He needed a moment before seizing his clothes and emerging into his hospital suite. Frowning, Virgil shifted as his fingers trembled above the door knob. Twisting the knob and letting the door creak open meant that there really was something wrong with him.

     “Mr. Poole?” A soft knock vibrated against the wooden frame.

     “Oh- uh, yeah. Sorry,” snapping out of it, Virgil yanked open the door.

     “I was going to assess some of your motor and sensory skills,” Logan allowed Virgil to pass him and perch cross-legged on the bed’s edge, but Virgil’s twitchy hands didn’t allude him.

     “Go ahead, doc.”

     “I’m going to start by testing your reflexes with a patellar reflex test, but I’m going to need you to situate your legs so that they’re dangling over the edge of the bed,” Logan slid his fingers into a set of thin, cyan gloves.

    Virgil huffed, untangling his legs, and letting his feet hang.

    With gloved digits, Logan skimmed his cold fingertips across Virgil’s lower leg in search for the band of tissue extending down from the patella. A few more calculating touches under Virgil’s shin, and Logan identified the patellar tendon and femoral nerve. And with a short reflex hammer, Logan struck the tendon…. Virgil’s muscles convulsed.

    “Clonus,” Logan noted, scribbling the result onto a plastic clipboard in raven ink, “let’s try testing your musculocutaneous nerve.”

    “Could you flex at the elbow for me?” Logan requested as a means to identify Virgil’s bicep tendon.

     Virgil nodded, complying as Logan watched and palpated the antecubital fossa.

     “You can relax your arm now,” Logan attentively took Virgil’s arm into his grasp with his thumb over the tendon to strike with the reflex hammer. Again, more contractions.

     “Is that normal?” Virgil wore a half-frown.

     “Well, no-,” Logan paused, laying his pen across his clipboard, “a normal reaction generates an easily observed shortening of the muscle. In your case, your muscles repetitively shortened after a single stimulation, which suggests that a pathologic process is affecting peripheral nerves that results in a reflex that is abnormal.”

     “…huh?”

     “Your muscles convulsed, which suggests there is condition affecting your nerves, but with hand tremors present, that was to be expected.”

     “Any idea what it is yet?”

    “Without more testing it’s hard to say, but I postulate the issue lies within your upper motor neurons. These are the neurons that carry motor information down the spinal cord to the lower motor neurons. The information that is sent from these neurons to the lower motor neurons signals muscles to contract, thus they are the source of voluntary movement. Increased muscle tone, reflexes, and weakness would all point to lesions on your upper motor neurons, but without more testing, we cannot be sure.”

    “I see.”

“Speaking of such testing, I’m going to begin evaluating your muscle tone and then your gait.”

     Virgil nodded, glance cast to the side.

    “To start, I’m going to need you to relax for me again,” Logan clinically solicited.

    To begin testing Virgil’s upper extremity muscle tone, Logan passively rolled the joints in Virgil’s wrist and upper arm to test for rigidity. Finding some resistance, Logan apacely scrawled it onto Virgil’s charts.

    “Could you lie flat on your back now?”

    “Uh, sure,” Virgil swung his legs over the mattress as he slanted back.

    “Now, I’m going to need you to relax,” Logan repeated, pressing his palm above Virgil’s bare ankle. Moving to Virgil’s lower leg, Logan slipped his palm under his patient’s relaxed knee to suddenly bend the shin to test lower extremity muscle tone. More resistance.

    “Hmm,” Logan nodded mostly to himself, “to test your gait, I’m going to need you to walk away from me and then back towards me.”

    “Okay..,” Virgil sat up, shifting his frame so his feet brushed against the tile floor.

     Planting his feet on the ground, Virgil strolled from the bed to the farthest wall before ambling back in the direction of the doctor. And during this process, Logan took note of Virgil’s stance, stability, and leg stiffness. He watched Virgil’s leg swings and arm swings observantly. His eyes inspected Virgil’s degree of knee bending and his rate and speed only to note a decreased left arm swing.

    “Unsteady gait,” Logan jotted down.

    “I take it that’s bad?” Virgil plopped back onto the bed, picking at his black nail polish.

    “It just means a walking abnormality is present.”

    “And?”

    “And that could be caused by underlying conditions or injuries.”

    “Does that mean it could be something like Parkinson’s disease?” Virgil’s heart rate quickened.

    “It’s possible,” Logan admitted, “but we just can’t be sure with the little testing we’ve done.”

    “My blood test can help though, right? That’s what you said earlier.”

    “It’ll help us determine a diagnosis, but it’s likely the storm will delay it a couple days,” Logan glanced at Virgil apologetically, but it came off mechanically, “Anyhow, it seems optimal to take a short break from testing now.”

    Collecting up his clipboard, Logan stood in the door frame, “And in the meantime, a nurse will periodically check up on you.”

    “Okay…,” Virgil sighed.

     With Virgil taken care of, Logan strode down the long, achromatic hallway with his clipboard pressed up against his chest and his framed eyes fixed on the nurse’s station. His shoes squeaking against newly polished floors captured the attention of patients and doctors alike. And as he passed Dr. Whittaker reviewing a patient’s extensive charts, Logan offered him a polite smile.

     Now standing over the cubed nurse’s station, Logan watched as Patton’s fingers built a bridge between words, “Salutations, Patton.”

     Tearing his gaze from the new monitor, Patton grinned, “Hello, Logan.”

     “I’d appreciate it if you could check up on Virgil Poole for me before your shift ends in a couple hours. Maybe take a neurological history for me?” Logan didn’t waste time with idle chatter.

     “Sure thing,” Patton’s eyes and nose crinkled, “I’ll pay him a visit.”

     “Thanks Pat- …Oh, Great,” Logan frowned, turning on his heel at the mere sight of Dr. Wilson’s poised approach.

     “Trying to avoid me, spectacles?” Dr. Wilson tsk’d.

     “Attempting to,” Logan muttered under his breath.

     Feigning an offended gasp, Dr. Wilson placed his palm over his chest.

     “But you adore our little chats, Lo,” he purred, inching close enough to Logan to count the careless stippling of freckles across his cheeks.

     “How are you, Roman?” Patton kindly interjected, fingers resting atop black keys.

     Flustered, Logan glanced down and away. He didn’t deny it.

     “Much better now that Lo’s back,” Roman grinned wide like a Cheshire cat.

     “I was only gone a week.”

     “And a terrible week it was.”

—

     Virgil peered out the frosted-over window through slats in the flimsy blinds, watching as specks of snow colored the road in ivory as the chilly air of the ceiling vent caressed his exposed skin.

    “Mr. Poole?”

     Virgil exhaled, shifting on the mattress to face the doorway, “more testing?”

    “Just here to collect a neurological history if that’s alright,” one of Patton’s palms rested against the door frame while the other seized a clipboard.

    “Go ahead, I guess,” Virgil raised his downcast eyes and shrugged slightly.

    “I can come back later,” instantly noticing Virgil’s hunched posture, Patton shifted his feet to retreat.

    “No- it’s fine. Ask away,” Virgil peered up before picking again at the remaining flecks of nail polish clinging to his nails.

    “Okay..,” Patton reluctantly stepped into the darkened room, brows knitted into a frown, “Do you have a history of head injury or seizures?”

    “No,” Virgil brushed away unattached, onyx, polish particles onto the stiff sheets.

    “Have you ever had surgery involving the nervous system?” Patton continued, pen tip pressed against papers shoved under the board’s metal clip.

    “No.”

    “Have you ever been treated for a neurological problem?”

     Another ‘no.’

     “Have you ever had a serious injury?”

     “If it matters, I broke my leg when I was nine,” Virgil rested his head in his now unbusy palm, gaze flitted to his crossed legs.

     “How were you treated?” Patton momentarily glanced up from the charts.

     “The doc had me wear a cast and use crutches for six weeks,” Virgil shrugged. He had been sketching - sketching wolves and bluishly radiant moons in the aged tree flourishing by his hinged, bedside window when he fractured his femur. Dropping his pen from the branch had sealed Virgil’s destiny as his balance departed with his attempt to capture it.

     “Do you have any residual effects from breaking your leg?”

     “..No.”

     Another scribble from Patton.

     “Do you have any other medical problems?”

     “Uh,” Virgil paused hesitantly, peering up to inspect Patton’s expression, “…anxiety.”

     “What about prescriptions?” Patton inquired, tilting his head, “are you currently taking any prescribed or over the counter medications?”

     “No.”

     Sighing, Patton scrawled the same answer in black pen on Virgil’s messy charts, “Could you tell me about your family’s medical history?”

     “Dad died of a heart attack and mom’s out of the picture,” Virgil huffed bluntly, shrugging with his eyes.

     “Any brothers, sisters, or cousins?” Patton donned a half-frown.

     “Nope, no, and no,” Virgil mumbled, missing the distraction that unwinding the threads of his coal-colored hoodie brought him.

    “Aunts? Uncles?”

    “Not that I know about.”

    “Oh..,” Patton frowned.

    “That all you need?” Virgil cleared his throat.

    “Uh-,” Snapping out of his haze, Patton replied, “yeah.”

    “That’s all I need,” He quickly clarified, rubbing the back of his neck.

     As Patton turned on his heel to leave, his steps faltered. He was incapable of halting his thoughts from sprinting painfully back in time to Remy. Shaking his head, Patton stopped in his footsteps and shifted to face Virgil, “Do you, uh, have anyone that will visit you? ”

    “What?” Virgil tilted his head, shoulders visibly slumping once he processed the question.

    Patton knew it wasn’t his right to pry, but he asked anyway.

    “I’m sorry,” Patton rapidly backtracked, “I- I really shouldn’t have asked.”

    “It’s whatever,” Virgil huffed, looking at his bare nails.

    “I could come and check up on you occasionally if you’d like,” Patton rushed through his words.

    “Uh-,” Virgil angled his head, unsure of what to make of the offer, “…sure.”

Tag list (ask to be added): @bunny222

Okay so I’ve been trying to think of a Mini fic to  accompany the artI did for Pride!Roman. So here it is and it’s based off of Someone gets hurt Reprise.

Tw: swearing, Angst all the way, Roman being in hysterics and not that kind to Janus.  

Pairing: Implied past Roceit

So let’s imagine Roman and Janus being on okay terms pre-trial episode. The two would re-enact musical and plays or go on adventures in the imagination, (basically go out on dates, not that either would admit that now) without the other lightsides knowing. Roman, at some point, wanted Janus to get the attention he deserved and helped think of ways to help him get that without any of the other sides (mostly Virgil) getting too agitated by Janus’s presence. Him and Remus (the twins have a love hate relationship most of the time) suggested to just keep pretending as other sides until an opportunity comes up.

The trial episode happens and with everyone telling Roman that Janus is bad and he was bad for even trying to side with him, Roman’s view on Janus changes as he was also manipulated into choosing between the wedding and Thomas’s dreams. Before Roman could even work out a way to apologize to Janus for not choosing something great for Thomas, he was betrayed by him. When Janus essentially releases Remus onto the others abruptly and harm Thomas’s mental health was the final straw for Roman’s adoration and trust of Janus.

After SvS redux, Janus sinks down to tell Remus the great news of him being accepted and also wanted the side to help him make amends with Roman. He finds Remus trying to comfort a hysterical Roman and sees Roman’s outfit begin to change into a darker version of it. Panicked, he runs to them and tries his hardest to help Roman as he is self preservation, but is pushed away hard by Roman. Roman just laughs hysterically at his shocked reaction. Remus is just looking and watching the scene and Janus with pity and anger.

“Oh, look isn’t it the newest lightside?!” Roman cries out in faux happiness.

“Roman please- You’re fall-“ Janus tries but Roman just laughs.

“So what if I fall? You don’t care you never did! So tell me how’s being accepted feel? Is it everything you ever dreamed it feel? Crushing the competition to get there and making every side see you’re the good one? Have them love you when really they’ll always hate you?” Roman giggled insanely.

Janus snaps back, “You also wanted me to be accepted! What happened to that?! Hell, You and Re wanted me to pretend to be a lightside-“

Remus interrupts this time, “Snakey, that’s not pretend! You’re as lightside as they come! You think you’re always in the right like Patton, and you think that the rest of us are dumb like Logan! Worst of all, you left me in the dark like Virgil did to us.” He says, feeling betrayed.

Janus looks at him with shame but then sees that his outfit is also changing to a light grey and looks at back at Roman to see Roman’s outfit is now completely black, “Please, you two don’t understand- Roman’s becoming-“

Roman lifts him by his collar and slams him up against a wall, “This is all your fault! This is how Thomas sees me now! So I might as well just let go of my role as creativity and become a villain right? After all I do need an ego boost after being torn down so much, right? Maybe a little Ṕ̥̺̯̭̮͕͕̰͟R̶͖̣̗̯̘̗̘̳̕I̸̡̱̙͟D̴̗̯E̵̱̦͖̘ ẃ͖̥͕͎͜o̶̸̯͕u̵͍̯l̳̼͕̘̬͕̟̦͞d̩͈͝͡ͅn̷͙͍͉̖͎̰͓͡'̫̫̻͍̕t͔́͝ ̼͇͖̹̗̫h̵͘҉̞̲u̧̡̫̹r҉҉͔̙͔̞͡t̢̠̳͉̻̯͎̤ͅ!” 

Roman yells, voice distorting, before crying out in pain clutching his head in pain and backing off.

Janus reaching out to help but is intercepted by Remus, “You know, I hate Roman’s guts most of the time. But you don’t seem to comprehend that you cut into him and gutted him like a fish and left him to rot to get what you wanted Jay. You knew well what the others put him through and yet you did the exact same and even poked at his insecurities because he made fun of your name. You went so far to break his heart.” He snarled.

“Remus please, let me help him.” Janus cries out.

“Ya know Janny~” Roman said suddenly in a sing song voice, no longer in pain, “I used to get upset at the others for ignoring me at times but they proved they cared about me, and at least-“he choked a bit, “At least they had the decency, to not pretend love me!” He yelled and looked up with his now golden eyes.

Janus flinched and his eyes softened at the accusation, desperate to fix what he broke, “Ro, dear-“ He whispered.

Roman shook his head angrily, “No, it’s fine! Really fine! Go be a lightside!” Roman yelled before sinking out of Remus’s room.

Janus fell to his knees as Remus’s room began to change to incorporate more than just disgusting and terrible things. He looked at the remaining side and was met with a pitied stare.

“Really fucked up this one, Jay. When you said you wanted to be heard and for a little payback at Roman, I didn’t think you meant to go as far as to change Thomas’s view on him. Calling me and him fucking evil? How scandalous of you.” Remus said.

“I didn’t mean to I swear! I just-“ Janus whimpered before cutting himself off with a sob.

“I think it’s best if you leave, you have to explain how the prince has finally been pushed off the deep end and left to drown and be eaten by piranhas and sharks.” Remus sighed, turning his back to the sobbing side.

“And Janus? I’m pretty sure Roman wants that ring back.” Remus said before forcing Janus out of his room.

Janus is found by Patton on the floor of the common room, sobbing and apologizing to no one. He tried to calm the other down but Janus just starts to break even more at the sight of the lightside. Patton is forced to get Logan and Virgil to help try to calm him down. When he’s calmed, and explains what happened, the others are consumed with guilt and don’t fair better than he did at the news. Virgil starts to think of all the times the insults he never got in trouble for while Roman got scolded every time he clapped back and is on the verge of a panic attack, Logan thinks about how he always took away time for Roman help Thomas and bites his lips to prevent any emotions from showing, and the worse is Patton, who starts to sob and question why they had treated Roman so poorly and blame himself. 

Not only have they lost someone dear to them, the same side is now filled with hatred and became what he never wanted to be, the bad guy.

Prompt submitted by @ /Pleasuretoyeetyou over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /Immajustnopetoday over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /_pastel.honey_ over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /debcat05 over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /Pleasuretoyeetyou over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /Pleasuretoyeetyou over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /amidoingthisright_fangirl over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /amidoingthisright_fangirl over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /amidoingthisright_fangirl over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /Lydiaz_artz over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @loveroffandoms

Prompt submitted by @ /Najia.xo over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /Pleasuretoyeetyou over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /Pleasuretoyeetyou over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /Pleasuretoyeetyou over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /Tammyfishr over on Instagram

Prompt submitted by @ /Tammyfishr over on Instagram

Happy Valentine’s Day everyone ❤️

Art was created by these people, all of which are over on Instagram:

@/cosmogyralspooks @/lunar_luminessence @/nat.pat45 @/a_small_emo_cat @/interactive_stress @/chaosboitm

a-small-batch-of-dragons:

Prompts:Hmmm I would love some Logan Angst where after the date with Nico he shuts himself away from the group and this leads to Thomas life becoming a mess and him not being able to function mentally. Roman than starts to feel like it’s his fault because he insulted Logan and didn’t let him finish the schedule. Janus feels responsible because he sent Remus so unexpectedly the two sides who hate each other come together to try help Logan.

The three then have a talk about their problems Roman’s habit of using Nico as a distraction from the wedding and all the hurt he’s feeling, Janus and his habit to bring down other sides to get what he wants and Logan to hide his feelings from the others.

Overall I just want some Roloceit bonding and fluff with a mix of angst. - meltheromanstan

Hey a-small-batch-of-dragons could you write a story about Roman having narcolepsy and falling asleep with maybe Rociet or Logince. And a question do you do research before you write stories like snap or come now little prince ? Have a great day or night - mouse2004

Thank you for the reqs, friends, let’s get this angst train a’rolling. 

Read on Ao3

Warnings:self-deprecations, mostly. roman has narcolepsy

Pairings:roloceit, can be platonic or romantic I don’t know anymore

Word Count: 4850

Logan closes the door behind him and takes a deep breath. He lets it out slowly, one, two, three, four, and the notebook falls out of his hands.

Roman looks at the closed door in front of him and clenches his hands to stop them trembling.

Janus thinks everything is fine.

Or, in the aftermath of what should be a perfectly happy date, three Sides are having a little trouble.

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