Jun 8, 2024
No schedule planned, spontaneously and (trying to) simultaneously finish line art and clean my room (it's teeny but I have a ton of stuff 🙃)
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No schedule planned, spontaneously and (trying to) simultaneously finish line art and clean my room (it's teeny but I have a ton of stuff 🙃)
roceit with 25 if that's alright?? no pressure!! :)
fun fact: i’ve never written roceit (I don’t think??) so i hope i did them justice
25: “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
summary: roman’s never performed for an audience before, yet somehow, somehow, damian convinced him to sing at the school talent show.
warnings: panicking/stage fright
Roman blanched, staring at the stage. “I can’t believe you talked me into this.”
“You’ll be fantastic,” Damian said. He brushed his fingers against Roman’s shoulders, looking totally completely utterly fine of which Roman was very much not. Which he didn’t appreciate whatsoever. “I’ll be with you the entire time.”
“I want a guitar,” Roman said. “What do I do with my hands?”
“You don’t,” Damian said. He glanced at Roman, a knowing glint in his eyes. “You’d fret over hitting the wrong chords.”
“But at least I could focus on something--” Roman inhaled sharply, trying to settle the rocks rolling around in his stomach. “Oh, god, Dee, I can’t do this. I can’t do this I’m sorry I need to leave--”
“No,” Damian said, grabbing Roman before he sprinted away off stage. He settled his hands on Roman’s shoulders, leveling him with a stare. Roman blinked, his entire body trembling, he couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe, oh god, he was going to die.
“You’re Roman Prince King, and someone with a name like that can’t fail,” Damian said. He pressed down; Roman clutched at his hands, eyes wild and wide. “Your voice is beautiful. Just pretend you’re singing to me. Just me.”
Just me. Roman blinked. Images flashed before his eyes -- a soft comforter, guitar strings and plucking at notes, sharp grins and the shine of the stars on his carpet. Damian’s hands crept up his neck to settle against his jawline, fingers curling around his ears and into his hair. “You’re brilliant, Roman. You can stand on stage and sing to me. You’ve done it before.”
“Without an audience,” Roman whispered. Too much too much too much. His hands crept up to his face, trembling against his skin.
“With an audience,” Damian said. He pulled Roman’s hands away, holding them tightly, gaze never straying from Roman’s own. “Logan was there.”
“Doing homework,” Roman said weakly.
“Patton was giving you his undivided attention.”
“He loves everything and everyone, he doesn’t--”
“He loves you,” Damian said. His voice dropped but his stare didn’t. Roman could feel the shake in his fingers anyway, their hands pressed together. “I love you,” Damian whispered.
Roman stared. He took a shaky breath, closing his eyes for one, two, three, four. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight.
“You’re on,” Joan said. They wore a headset and said nothing else.
Expectations threatened to crush down on Roman, of the audience, of his friends, his family, Damian, Damian was right there.
“Let’s go,” Damian said. His voice was softer than it had any right to be and Roman exhaled, breath wobbling. “Sing to me. Sing for me.”
Roman was holding Damian’s hands so tightly it was a wonder Damian hadn’t released them with a hiss. “Okay,” he said, just barely.
Damian leaned in, pressed their foreheads together for one beat, two. Roman counted the thumps of his heart.
Then Damian pulled away, tugging him towards the edge of the curtain, and let go.
Everything came rushing back -- the chatter of the audience, the hum of lights overhead, the dusty air. Fear threatened to freeze but then Damien was there, smiling at him, eyeing him carefully.
Roman walked out onstage. Damian followed behind him, guitar in hand. Roman stood at the microphone, pulled it out, and turned, ever so slightly, to Damian.
Roman smiled -- just the slightest turn of his lips because he was still terrified oh god what was he doing and Damian winked at him.
Something soft and warm bloomed in Roman’s chest.
Damian strummed the first chord, a crooked smile settled on his face.
Roman took a deep breath, opened his mouth, and sang.
Dibs
i wrote this quick as a warmup then ended up not having time to actually write nything else but anyway here it is!! based on this text post uwu
warnings: swearing, college parties, alcohol, talking about misuse of chemicals being water + sodium.... yeah that’s all i can think of
----
Logan hadn’t planned on going to the party. Not because he hated parties (although he sort of disliked them, depending on the host) but it hadn’t really been on his radar.
So when Remy texted him that “the coolest shit is going down” and that he “needs to come to Payton Braun’s right now right now they’re playing with fire and chemicals”, well. How could he refuse?
A2 E4 for the fic square thing please!!!!
these are from AGES ago but mama didn’t raise no quitter
A2 – fluff. E4 – logan x roman
Touching Stars
Logan sprinted through the trees, breathless with laughter, the taste of watermelon still on his tongue. He knew these woods like the back of his hand, an edge that Roman, tripping through the underbrush, didn’t have.
“Logan are you serious!” Roman called out, the crash of sticks accenting his words.
“Keep up!” Logan called back, chest full of sunshine and eyes bright. The moon shone, barely half full and shrinking, casting shadows and light on the forest floor.
“I’d be more successful if you didn’t run like a streaking tree sprite!” Roman yelped and Logan snorted, shaking his head.
He hopped over a protruding root and skidded to a halt at the base of a tree, assessing the branches for a few moments before jumping and grasping the lowest one. By the time Roman reached him, he was three branches up, and Roman glared at him from the ground.
“When I said I wanted a forest adventure, this is not what I meant,” Roman said, each word punctuated with a heaving breath. He leaned against the trunk, staring up at him. “How am I supposed to get up there?”
“Climb,” Logan said, peering down at him. “It’s not that high up. I believe in you.”
“Great,” Roman said, the sarcasm lost in his softened gaze and the gentle way he held his body. “I’ll get right on that, then.”
Logan’s lips quirked, dimples shining in the moonlight. “I’ll be waiting.” And with that, he continued upwards, the cold wood warming under his palms, bark scratching lightly against his skin.
He heard Roman’s deep, insufferable sigh, and then felt the shifting of another climber. One handheld after another. Logan knew this tree; he’d spent hours in this tree, leaning against the trunk, climbing branch after branch with a book stuffed in his shirt.
While Logan had to be a bit more creative with climbing, his limber body slipping through spaces to maximize his use of branches, Roman could haul his entire body up with just his arms.
By the time Logan reached his favorite spot, the one where leaves parted to show the sky, Roman was directly beneath him.
Logan settled, half against the trunk, half against another branch, his feet propped comfortably. Roman heaved himself up one more time, muscles bunching and shifting beneath his bronzed skin, and pressed himself in a similar position across from him.
“So is this your secret hideout?” Roman asked, smile crooked.
Something soft bloomed in Logan’s chest and he looked away, ignoring the heat gathering in his cheeks. “Something like that,” he said, quiet.
Roman followed his gaze to the outstretched sky, expression soft and content. “I can see why.”
“Sometimes I reach out,” Logan said, pointing to the pinpricks of stars and stretching out his arm, as if asking for a dance. “And I pretend I can touch them.”
Roman laughed, a rumble from deep in his chest. He glanced to Logan, eyes playful and mesmerizing. “What do they feel like?”
Logan pulled his arm back with a noncommittal sound. “Like wasted dreams.”
“That’s interesting,” Roman said.
Striking green eyes found amber and Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “How so?”
Roman smiled, eyes crinkling at the edges, and stared at the stars. “I think they’re a million successes.”
“Successes, huh?” Logan hummed thoughtfully.
“Yeah,” Roman said. His hand found Logan’s, somewhere in the middle, wrapping long fingers around his wrist and pulling, pushing towards the stars. “Look how brightly they shine. Could wasted dreams fill the night sky so completely, create something so bright?”
“Maybe,” Logan said, threading his fingers through Roman’s, careful and concise. The cold breeze pressed against the warmth of Roman’s skin, rough and calloused. “Maybe they’re dreams that never came to be, but find purpose in igniting the night sky.”
Roman laughed again, feather light. “Are you sure you’re not a poet?”
Logan smiled, then. “Watch out. I might steal your scholarship.”
Roman’s laughter was bright and full, shining like the stars Logan so enjoyed. “You just might,” he said, eyes twinkling, a sea of golden brown. He pulled their hands back from the sky but didn’t let go. I’ll follow you. I know it’s not conventional, I know it’s not smart. But I’ll follow you to the ends of the earth, pointing at stars and clouds, and we’ll make our own magic, our own rules.
Logan breathed, the earthen scent of the forest twining with Roman, a glittering sun, sea spray and golden beaches.
Their hands settled comfortably against one another, the light of the moon and stars accenting Roman’s features, and Logan... Logan realized, then, that maybe, just maybe, he had been reaching for the wrong stars, when Roman, the brightest star he’d ever known, was right in front of him.
Logan’s Freckles
i cant believe i dont have a poetic Dramatic:tm: title for this i need to step it up
This is based on @pirate-patton‘s post here , @emphoenixcat‘s fic here, @rose-gold-roman‘s fic here, and, lastly, the one post that brought this to my attention and inspired me to make this, @fanfictionsideaccount‘s fic here.
We have Logicality with @emphoenixcat‘s and @rose-gold-roman, and Logince with @fanfictionsideaccount, so I thought I’d bring some Analogical to the table :P
Summary: “Why wouldn’t I hide them?” Logan said, his words tumbling from his mouth without abandon. “They’re horrible. They cover every inch of my skin and they’re distracting, Virgil, I’m supposed to be impeccable.
Words: 1573
Genre: fluff, hurt/comfort maybe?
Pairing: Romantic Analogical
Warnings: Self-deprication, some crying, mention of nightmares, anything else please let me know!
Logan suffered from what he called “chronic foolishness”. Perhaps foolishness held incorrect connotations for what he desired to explain – yet, his very nature seemed to show that his character should be, for lack of better explanation, naive.
Scowling at his reflection, Logan waved his hands, the glimmer wavering slowly over his skin. Ever since the sides’ recent familiarity, his glimmer has failed.
A breath of air fell from his mouth. He might as well stop deceiving himself. After all, deceit was why his glimmer worked. He deceived the others of his appearance with the simple wave of a hand. Now that Thomas knew of Deceit, well. His glimmer stopped working.
Logan picked up the stick of concealer, rolled it between his fingers, and resigned himself to an eternity of makeup covering every visible inch of his body.
Luckily, there were not many inches for him to cover. His face, neck, arms... the juncture between his shoulders and neck. Actually, probably his shoulders as well. Upper back?
Everything had to be covered.
Logan opened the stick and began. The makeup felt strange on his skin, at first, but he stole it from Roman, so the skin tone had to be the same (he would’ve take it from Virgil, who was much less likely to notice among his rather messy room, but Virgil had a slightly paler skin tone than the rest of them, and would bring too much attention to Logan if he used it).
Once he finished, Logan checked and double-checked to make sure every last one was covered. The one near his eye was difficult to fix, he didn’t want to get concealer in his eye, but persistence always yielded results.
A rotten feeling settled in his stomach as he gazed at his appearance. It was... normal, yes, with clear skin, of course, but he felt as if he were lying to the others.
Which, yes. Yes he was. But to remain Logic, with his entire persona intact, he simply had to take certain liberties. Which included a certain form of “lying”.
Technically, however, Roman wore makeup, as did Virgil, therefore this form of “lying” fell under the same category.
The rotten feeling didn’t go away. Logan shrugged it off and faded to the living room.
“All I’m saying, is that the second Mulan movie would’ve been way better if there wasn’t the entire breaking up sequence. It lacks creativity, frankly,” Roman said, waving his spoon around.
“We’re not saying you’re wrong,” Virgil sighed, pushing scrambled eggs around his plate. “You’ve been complaining about this all morning. Move to something different, for the love of god.”
“You don’t appreciate the art of analysis,” Roman said, pointing his spoon at Virgil. “Specs agrees with me, don’t you?”
“While the art of analysis is rapidly decreasing in popularity, the importance remains the same. However, discussing at lengths the same topic while your companions have shown signs of boredom becomes tedious for them,” Logan said.
Roman blinked, then frowned dramatically. “Teach, c’mon, you’ve done the same thing! Don’t blame me for being passionate in my area of expertise,” Roman said pointedly, but had the back of his hand against his forehead as if to faint, and Logan could read the signs of playfulness.
“I said your lengthy discussion will become boring for others, I never claimed to be innocent of the same feat.”
Roman groaned and mumbled something that sounded suspiciously like “I don’t know why I expecting anything other than siding with your boyfriend,” while Virgil snorted at his dismal figure.
Patton walked in and smiled, holding a bowl in his hands and a wooden spoon in the other, and the conversation gradually moved on. Logan inserted himself into the group as normal, and he nearly forgot about the concealer altogether.
A few days passed, everything functioning as normal, and Logan relaxed somewhat. The concealer worked, in the least.
One night, after Logan had gone through his nightly routine of scrubbing the layers of concealer off of his body – it wasn’t safe to keep it on overnight, after all, and could lead to long-term damage.
He read, turned the light off, and fell asleep, only to wake again to hesitant knocking on his door.
Logan groaned and pushed himself upright, swinging his legs over the side of his bed and standing slowly. He padded to the door and opened it, rubbing at his eyes with a “hm?”
Logan blinked and tried to focus, but, without his glasses and in the dark, he could barely see. However, he was almost certain that Virgil stood there in a large hoodie, arms tensed across his front.
“V-Virgil?” Logan said, yawning and rubbing at his face.
“Hey Logan,” Virgil said quickly. “Hey. Yeah. Hi. Uh. I had a nightmare. Can I. Can I stay with you? For tonight?”
Logan stared at him for a beat, then. “Yeah, of course! Of course, Virgil, please, come in.” He widened the door and let him through, closing it softly and following Virgil, with a slight stumble to his step, back to his bed.
Logan fell onto the mattress first. Realizing Virgil wasn’t beside him, Logan frowned and opened his arms, peering up at the blob he assumed was his boyfriend. “Virge?”
“Oh, yeah, sorry,” Virgil muttered, gently rolling into bed and pressing himself close to Logan, letting out a slow breath of air.
Logan wrapped his arms around Virgil and lightly hummed. “There’s nothing to be sorry for.” He rubbed at Virgil’s tense arms, trying to relax his muscles.
Virgil hummed back to him and snuggled closer, slowly, slowly but surely relaxing into Logan’s arms. Logan smiled against Virgil’s hair and held him tighter.
–
“Logan. Logan– Lo, Logan,” Virgil said, shaking his boyfriend’s shoulders.
“Wh–” Logan’s eyes shot open and he jerked up. “Virgil!”
Virgil stared at him, mouth parted and eyes wide. “Woah. Logan.”
“Virgil,” Logan said back. His hand uncertainly covered his mouth, slowly inspecting his face for something, perhaps a cut, or a red mark, or–
Fear and shock shot through his body and Logan tensed, scrambling out of bed. He hit the floor jarringly but jolted back up, bee-lining for the bathroom. He ignored Virgil’s surprised shout and slammed the door shut, staring at his stricken, freckle-covered expression. Oh no. Oh no oh no oh no –
“Logan!” Virgil knocked on the door. “I’m sorry I saw your freckles. I didn’t realize – I don’t know why – I love them, Logan.”
All Logan could see was his face, covered by imperfections, marred by “cute” dots. His vision blurred.
“Logan, please, please open the door, please,” Virgil said, voice dropping.
Something in his voice breaks through Logan and his hand grasps for the doorknob, catching it on the third or fourth try.
He didn’t look to see Virgil’s judging stare, his calculating gaze as he figured out how Logan hid his abominations.
“Logan,” Virgil said softly, reaching out and cradling Logan’s head in his hands. “Logan, why did you hide them?”
“Why wouldn’t I hide them?” Logan said, his words tumbling from his mouth without abandon. “They’re horrible. They cover every inch of my skin and they’re distracting, Virgil, I’m supposed to be impeccable. Freckles are not– they’re not–”
“Logan,” Virgil said, voice gentle. His thumbs rubbed at Logan’s cheeks and he leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. Then he leaned back an inch, wavering for only a second, before doing it again. And again. And again.
With Logan’s tears on Virgil’s lips, Virgil kissed him again and again, moving his lips slightly with every one, periodic and intentional.
“Virgil, what–” Logan said, a hiccup in his voice.
“Shh,” Virgil murmured. “I need to show you.”
“Show me?” Logan repeated. “What are– Virgil.” Logan grasped Virgil’s face with his hands and pulled him away, his confusion and need for answers temporarily overriding his love for Virgil’s kisses.
Virgil’s eyes crinkled in a soft smile, pressing their foreheads together. Logan searched Virgil’s eyes for an explanation.
“I need to kiss every one,” Virgil said.
Heat instantly rushed to Logan’s cheeks and he ducked his head into Virgil’s shoulder. Virgil moved his hands from Logan’s cheeks to his shoulders.
“Oh,” Virgil breathed, then leaned forwards and pressed his lips to the Logan’s shoulder. Then he did it again. And again.
“Virgil, they’re not–” Logan protested, leaning away. “They’re not lovable. I’m supposed to be the logical one, not the cute one, or the dramatic one.”
“You can be logical and still have freckles,” Virgil said firmly, pulling Logan’s gaze back to his. “I love them, and very much think they go with your aesthetic. You can be cute and intelligent.”
Logan reddened some more and opened his mouth, no arguments forthcoming. He grimaced and Virgil laughed, causing Logan’s face to smooth out because Virgil’s laugh was magical.
“I don’t mind if you still want to cover them around the others,” Virgil said suddenly, reaching for Logan’s hand and intertwining their fingers together. “Baby steps, alright?”
“Alright,” Logan agreed hesitantly. He twisted their hands and kissed the back of Virgil’s hand, blushing and turning away at Virgil’s astonished and loving expression.
“I won’t forget, either,” Virgil said abruptly.
Logan furrowed his eyebrows. “You won’t forget what?”
“I am kissing every last freckle,” Virgil said seriously.
A small noise escaped Logan’s throat and he covered his face, the heat under his palms curling embarrassingly. Virgil laughed, almost a giggle, and enveloped his boyfriend in a much-needed hug.
Extra: Patton’s Side
This didn’t turn out quite the way I wanted, but… we all love a protective Patton.
Summary: “’Fine,’ Deceit conceded. He snapped his fingers. ‘He has his voice back now.’ Patton didn’t move, his smile turning a little strained. ‘Deceit, you know I can see your lies.’”
Words: 934
Genre: honestly idek anymore it’s angsty hurt/comfort
Warnings: Manipulation, threats, anything else let me know!!
Tags: @thisrandomperson102, @thomassandersgirl (you didn’t ask but you wanted another chapter, so <3)
also @thebaagelboy i s2g i was three (3) seconds from posting this and then i read your comment and had to up and change it u icon
[Part I] [Part II]
Spatulas weren’t particularly scary weapons. That was fine. Scaring Deceit? Patton nearly laughed. Patton, the lovable, emotional Patton, would not be scaring a side tonight, no sirree.
He was just going to have a little chat with him.
The dark sides had their own domain – and their own rooms. Of course, the run-down rooms contained many items that Patton and the others had no desire to see (or relive) so they never, ever ventured there.
Well, that’s what Patton thought. They’d never had an extensive conversation about the topic, now that he thought about it. Logan mentioned the rooms once and Virgil had started shaking, so they didn’t bring it up anymore.
Patton vaguely wondered if the others could enter the dark side’s rooms. Patton could. That’s how he spoke with –
Well.
Patton trailed ribbons of golden light and dust, a hop in his step and a hum in his throat. He cheerily knocked on a door, since that was the polite thing to do, regardless of his teleportation abilities.
“Deceit!” Patton called out when he received no answer. At the solemn silence following his call, Patton frowned, his lips almost in a pout. He could sense Deceit’s presence in the room, so ignoring him was rather rude.
“Deceit, I know you’re in there, you silly goose!” Patton said, voice falling only somewhat. “C’mon k–” he cut himself off, not allowing the verbal tic to show itself to… Deceit.
Still nothing. Alright.
Patton tried the doorknob. Unsurprisingly, Deceit locked it, so Patton waved a hand over the lock before turning the knob easily, slipping into the realm of lies and manipulation.
“Patton,” a low voice sounded directly in his ear, yet Patton did not flinch. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“Wow!” Patton said. “Then you know why I’m here? You have something of Logan’s!”
“Why, has he seemed a little…” wind whistled by Patton’s ear. “quiet, lately?”
“Deceit, I can’t see you,” Patton said, frowning. “I don’t know where to direct my voice!”
“You can see me,” Deceit said, voice echoing around his room. A small puff of air escaped Patton’s mouth and he waved his hand again, Deceit materializing in front of Patton near instantly.
“There you are!” Patton beamed at him, spatula clutched in one hand. “Now, can you please return Logan’s voice?”
“I never stole it,” Deceit said, raising an eyebrow. “Are you sure he isn’t carrying out another experiment? You know how he loves those.”
“Haha, that’s my Logan! He’s really smart,” Patton said, nodding. “But he likes to talk, too. So could you please give it back?”
“Fine,” Deceit conceded. He snapped his fingers. “He has his voice back now.”
Patton didn’t move, his smile turning a little strained. “Deceit, you know I can see your lies.”
And he could. Patton saw little flecks of black and white slide off Deceit’s shoulders nearly every time he spoke.
“You can’t,” Deceit said, a sheet of grey tumbling to the ground like ash. “And his voice has been returned. You can leave and live happily ever after.”
Patton detected Deceit’s bitter tone and nearly agreed before remembering who he was talking to. The master of manipulation.
“I’m not leaving until you return what isn’t yours,” Patton stated, crossing his arms in an uncommon act of defiance.
“Mmh,” Deceit shrugged. “I’ll never give it back.”
Patton was still for a solid two seconds, watching for the flecks of ash, white and black and gray, to flake off. None did, and Patton’s heart dropped.
“What did you say?” Patton asked, feeling a thrum underneath his skin. It pulsed with the beat of his heart, thu-thump, thu-thump…
“Nothing, of course,” Deceit responded. Patton sighed. He really disliked doing this. After all, he wasn’t simply the happy emotions – he was all emotions.
Patton released the hold on his body and allowed his very essence to fill the room. A dark flash of anger, and Patton remembered where he was: the dark side’s home.
But he had a voice to get. Logan needed him. And Patton wasn’t leaving until he got it.
“You’re quite the side, Deceit,” Patton thought directly to Deceit’s head. Deceit swiveled on one heel and flinched, examining his dark walls with a bit of fear in his eyes.
“Yes, well–”
“But you’ll never be one of us.” Patton lassoed the darker emotions inside his being and pushed them together into a small ball. “You’ll never contain the same power.”
“You–”
“Now, give Logan back his voice,” Patton materialized in front of Deceit, a pulsing, black and red sphere the size of a baseball in his fist. “Or I will destroy everything you think you have.”
Deceit stared at him, breaths faster than average. “I think that–” He gasped suddenly, curling in on his stomach as all air left his body. Choking, Deceit waved his hands spastically and tried to get air as quickly as possible into his lungs.
“Everything you think you have,” Patton recited, the twisting sphere of dark emotions curling around his hand. He smiled, the sunny expression out of place.
Deceit growled, closing his eyes. Shimmers of ice-blue tumbled from his cloak. Patton gathered the essence before it could touch the ground. Before he let go of the emotions, though, Patton took one step forwards and whipped his spatula across Deceit’s face, the loud smack echoing off the walls.
Then he dispersed the dark emotions back to their rightful place – rightful room.
“Thank you very much!” Patton said. “I’m sure Logan will appreciate it.”
Before Deceit could respond, Patton faded away from the dark sides’ residence, sliding into the kitchen and releasing Logan’s voice simultaneously. The blue rushed back to its owner.
Patton beamed. He loved helping his friends. Regardless of all of the dangers helping them occasionally brought.
Lesbians who fall for butches aren’t secretly attracted to men
Lesbians who like strap-ons aren’t secretly waiting for your dick
Butch and gnc lesbians aren’t trans guys in denial
Lesbians that have had boyfriends in the past aren’t bisexuals in denial
Lesbians are women who love women and solely other women
How are these concepts hard to grasp? How do people have actual discussions about this?