Janus who becomes a make-up artist for reasons like 1. it's a socially acceptable way of lying by altering your appearance 2. no-one can comment on them using make-up (to cover a burn/birthmark/hide vitiligo? i'm just picturing Janus getting brutally bullied for something beyond their control as a kid, discovering make-up, and then still getting bullied for using make-up) 3. i'm just thinking of that "if the men find out we can shapeshift, they're going to tell the church" video tbh, it fits Janus so well as an attitude
So writing this reminded me that I can often find questions to be the worse kind of bullying because you can't always tell what the motivations behind asking them are. Fun times.
I loved your ideas and decided to carry on with this as the prompt to write today.
What Eyes See
Janus had never really been ashamed of his scars. Any child could get injured during play, or by the animals around them if their parents didn't pay reasonable attention to them or teach them how to treat creatures gently. They weren't even ashamed of their parents for failing to avoid the situation they got their scars from.
They were however immeasurably done with the questions people freely asked constantly. Just because the scars were on their face did not mean every randomer on the street was invited to know the story of them, nor that anyone could judge Janus for their interest in all animals, including the type that had injured them.
That had been the original reason they picked up some foundation, hoping the make-up could disguise the scar. The effect was poor, worse than useless as Janus would describe it. Their unskilled attempt to hide the scars rather emphasised them and blending the foundation over their entire face felt uncomfortable that first time, as if trying to form a mask from paints.
Janus wasn't known for giving up though and they turned to research, online tutorials at first. They were a little frustrated by the amount of focus videos and tutorials places on eyeshadow, or just the various types of make-up used around the eyes. While the colours could be pretty a lot of it seemed more extreme and noticeable than they'd want for daily use, especially coming from all the attention having been on the scars around their eyes up until now.
Courses for beauticians were where research into shaping and toning the face led Janus next. They'd amended the searches each time they tried to find ways to cover up their scars until the online tutorials focused on shaping. It was the most useful thing they'd learnt for covering up the scars, especially when a few youtube channels they'd found came out with the reverse, teaching people how to give themselves scars with make-up for Halloween.
It was a spiral staircase they'd started following by trying to hide their scars and now wanted to find the end of, whether that be professionally doing make-up or figuring out how to make themself and others look utterly different from some application of highlighters and darker tones.
The course itself interested Janus too, since it wasn't specified in where it could lead the students taking it career wise. People could take it for their own enjoyment, or they could be trying to be a professional make-up artist for weddings and other important events. Most interesting the them however were the descriptions of how theatre's could ask for make-up artists to transform their actors according to need and roles.
Janus looked up character archetypes, things like the cowboy, the prince, the wise elder, the damsel in distress. They spent time in front of the mirror trying to shape their face to the characters, even occasionally figuring out how a character would use body language to convey who they are. They remembered character studies that were assigned in literature classes and found making them physical by acting and creating make-up looks far more effective for understanding.
They asked at the local theatres and city halls if there were any groups who could use a make-up artist on the staff and were amused when each time they went in the receptionists never recognised them. Janus was enjoying the contouring and shaping of their face almost as much as they enjoyed the peace of nobody realising they had scars.
“You seem tired today.” One of the actors commented a few months into Janus taking on occasional shows as the make-up artist.
They paused for a moment, because that wasn't someone asking who they were. It was a comment normally made to a friend, or at least acquaintance regularly met. “It was just a poor nights sleep, Darling. Nothing that will impede on making you the most lovely prince in the world.” They crooned after a moment, not expecting the actor to shake his head and lean away from their steadying hands.
“No. You've been expecting something to be said for a while and I've not figured out what. Today you're taking your time more, pausing to think before choosing shades slightly closer together than usual to use on me. Is there something wrong?” His eyes were piercing, and Janus almost cursed themself for having done the eyeliner already to emphasise the imploring stare.
“How do you even recognise me? I've had to introduce myself to basically everyone every single day I come in.” They countered, fairly sure they wouldn't avoid the conversation this actor was set on having.
He rolled his eyes. “You're Janus, ever slightly pretentious and with a sharp tongue to lash anyone away from you with. You're also the only member of our back-stage crew who wears enough make-up you could probably join us on stage without looking out of place and you are splendid for it. Now let me help with whatever is bothering you.”
Janus frowned, felling uncomfortable with how well this actor had perceived them. They only just managed to remember his name was Roman with how ready they'd remained detached from the people they worked with. It was safer that way, less questions they didn't want to answer for people they barely knew, and less chance of getting hurt if those questions are turned into cruelty. “Roman, I'm just having a bad day and slept poorly. Will you let me finish your make-up sometime before you have to go on stage?”
“Promise me that nobody here has done or said anything to make your day worse.” Roman insisted, still avoiding the hand reaching toward him so Janus could continue with the make-up.
“Just some strangers on the street. Nobody worth getting so energetic over.” They confirmed, shaking their head when a grim but satisfied nod was given. “And if you want to know what was said then merely leave your make-up on as you leave here today. I'm sure someone else will be available to share their comments with you.”
Roman chuckled lowly, “They'll find I'm far less likely to walk away from them with just a few sharp words than you are.”
Pirate au Logan and roman friendship tidbits? Mayhaps after they escaped the First Ship? How protective was Roman after that on a scale of 1-10?
Roman was ridiculously protective, which worked out well since Logan was afraid of being alone for a bit.
Those two days on the ship before they could leave were terrifying
Nobody was actually ashamed of what they did to Logan, so there were a lot of jokes thrown around
Its very clear it would have happened again if Roman wasn't there to stop it, so he refused to leave Logan's side
They never got permission to leave, especially since Roman and the captain had an ongoing "arrangement", so their escape ended in a gunfight
They're both self sacrificing idiots besties and refused to leave each other behind
Logan starts having really bad nightmares once they get away and are living on the streets again, so he tries to stop sleeping until he passes out from pure exhaustion
Roman finds out, and for a little bit Logan can only sleep soundly when Roman holds him
After what happened, Logan won't admit it out loud but he's afraid of being left alone, especially in public
Roman once stepped away to use the bathroom at a tavern they were getting food in, and Logan had a panic attack and had to wait outside in the alleyway
Roman once got into a fist fight with someone who smoked in Logan's face because they thought it was funny that he was panicking at the smell
Logan is also incredibly protective of Roman. Him being afraid to be alone works out well since he's worried Roman will try to make another dangerous deal with the next Captain he finds
Logan had it drilled into him that he was "less than human" a lot, so he's never really understood why Roman was so nice to him
He absolutely almost cried the first time Roman called him his best friend
Logan's gotten better over the years, and he can and will kill a man if he needs to defend himself
He still can't be left alone in crowded places, especially at bars or any parties
You know, even though the Royal AU with Prince Patton is supposed be more of a “corruption arc” with him slowly descending into madness and making history with just twisted and violent he was, painting a picture of what not to do....I can totally see Patton still doing kind of (really) fucked up things to the other princes when they were growing up.
Like, a girl wanders into the dangerous forest where he and his brothers play and she accidentally stumbles into a lion. They hear her screaming and rush to help. Things are not looking good and they’re struggling to catch up to the chase. The lion lifts its paw when she finally trips over a branch, about to take a swipe- she’d die for sure. But Patton pushes Logan in front of her in the knick of time. He gets scratched instead, badly.
Patton ignores his brother’s agonized screams and sobs, using the opportunity to snatch the girl away as quick as possible. Logan is covered in dirt and blood in seeping from his back. Roman is waving off the lion before it has the opportunity to harm their brother again and watches as it runs away. Roman goes to check on Logan while Patton is sweetly calming the girl down and checking her for injuries.
Roman scolds Patton and asks him what the hell is wrong with him, Logan could’ve died!
Patton just asserts that it was the right thing to do. If he hadn’t thought of that, the girl could’ve died and they’d have to live with being responsible for her death when they all could’ve given their all to do something. Logan still has a huge scar from this day when they were little. Everyone praises him for being a brave prince that saved a young girl. Patton constantly encourages this throughout their childhood. After all, he should be proud they helped someone, that scar is a badge! He should be happy!
I don’t like celebrating thanksgiving, but what i DO like is Prinxiety, so have this little drabble I accidentally wrote from my friend last night
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Til Death Do We Part
Word Count: 663
some good old fashioned Prinxiety being badasses together
TW: Blood mention, fighting (against an enemy in a battle scenario), dragon witch, death threat (from the enemy), magic mention? tell me if I need to add more please!
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It’s the middle of a fierce battle with a particularly nasty foe, both Virgil and Roman have been fighting with all they have, giving everything they’ve got to get out of the battle alive. Finally, though, it seems their enemy has gained the upper hand, after throwing a powerful bomb of energy that had sent both the Prince and the dark Knight flying backward. Dust filled the air, and for a deathly silent moment, it seemed the dastardly Dragon Witch had won out.
Silence, and then, as the dust began to clear, a man in a dirtied white suit and mud-stained red sash slowly staggered into view, brandishing a bloodied sword. He was leaning just slightly more weight to one side, but his feet were firmly planted on the torn dirt and grass; His eyes burned into his enemy, steady and alight not with hate or rage, but with confidence. stubborn determination. 𝗣𝗼𝘄𝗲𝗿. The victorious and twisted grin that had begun to appear on the villains face dissolved back into a glower within seconds, a deep, enraged shout came from the enemy, and then, “Stop fighting this! Don’t you see, you can never win against me and all your efforts will be for nothing! Save your strength and just give up if you know what’s good for you, 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘰.”
The words were spat with nothing but nothing but loathing, a glare sharp as a thousand arrow heads shot right into Romans eyes, but it was no where close to the sharpness of the sword Roman wielded himself, or the conviction in his voice as he responded, “If you believe we will give up our efforts and hand ourselves over to your power simply because of your pathetic threats, you’re a greater fool than I ever could have predicted.”
His sword was held just out in front of him, ready to defend, with the tip of his blade pointed straight up toward the darkened grey sky. “Very well then,” the Witch began, not without a firm shake of its head, “I will take great pleasure in destroying you both and all that you love, and when I kill you, it will be on your lover’s hands, and when I kill your lover, his blood will be on your hands, and you will see your stubbornness pave the way for your great fall before i’m finished with you.” seething with dangerous promises, the Dragon Witch towered over the Prince, who was not moved by the words in the slightest way. Instead, he held her gaze as a smirk formed on his lips, sure and knowing.
Not a second later was a hand reaching out of the dust, crossing the Prince’s arm to grab the hilt of the sword as well, and effectively sandwiching it between their palms. A tattered black sleeve soon turned into a worn shirt with a vest over top of it, both articles of clothing dark as the deepest hours of the blackest night. A pale face partially covered by dark hair, features sharp and expression hard as stone, was the last to be revealed of the second Hero now stood beside the Prince in white, battered and covered in dust and dirt, but standing firm and strong even still. With both men facing their greatest threat yet, single sword held firm in both their grasps, fingers threaded wordlessly together as they pointed their blade forward, Roman opened his mouth to address the Witch once more; “I suggest you prepare yourself for a tiresome fight then, Dragon Witch, because to get to my dearest Virgil, you’ll have to kill me first.” His self-assured smirk was still in place, and now his lover beside him wore a similar expression of confidence as well. Mismatched colored eyes met those of the witches as Virgil took but the smallest step forward, his voice fearless as he spoke next.
“And if you want to get to Roman, you’ll have to go through me.”
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That was so fun to write!! If you have title ideas or suggestions, please tell me, thank you :D
He was stupid. This was so, so stupid. What was he even doing here, hand hovering over the door, poised to knock, if he could just steel himself enough to knock…
He bit back a growl of frustration at his own cowardice. It felt like butterflies gnawing at his stomach, crawling up his throat, buzzing in a panic in his head, making his shoulders hunch higher. It was the fear of the dark of a child, the fear of the monsters under the bed, the fear of everything and nothing, the fear of the unknowns.
Because what if it hadn’t been a simple nightmare? What if it had really happened and he’d sunk back to his room and cried himself to sleep and everything being fine and perfect and normal was the dream? What if he knocked, and was met with cold, icy eyes?
What if Roman did as threatened and ran him through before he could say a word?
What if Patton told him, so gently it was cruel, that he was a nuisance, a bother?
What if Logan produced his journal, filled with reason upon cold, undeniable reason, that he was simply a hindrance?
What if they were right?
He couldn’t, couldn’t face them. He should just go back to his room and wait for one of them to come looking. If they came looking then it hadn’t been real, but he could not stand to face them if it had been.
He didn’t know why it was Roman's door, he was hovering outside of. Perhaps because the prince was always so blunt. He would know, immediately, with Roman. Maybe it was because he couldn’t take anymore gentle devastation from Patton, any more pure evidence of his detriment from Logan. Maybe because he hoped to god even if it was real, that Roman would somehow pity him enough to let him in anyway, before sending him away for good.
He bit his lip, hand shaking. Do it, just do it, why was this so hard? The longer he waited, the worse it got, the gnawing becoming a pit becoming a black hole in his stomach and he was just about to shuffle away when the door opened, revealing a yawning, bleary eyed Roman.
He froze, fear and hope and shame welling in his chest, making it hard to breathe. Then Roman spoke.
“I thought I heard you out on patrol, Stormy Knight. Wandering the halls so early?”
He burst into tears.
Because Roman had spoken softly, Roman had smiled tiredly, Roman didn’t draw his sword or snarl or slam him against the wall and tell him to never come back, and it had been a dream, just a dream, and nothing, nothing could match the pure relief flooding through him.
“Virg? What's wrong? Are you hurt?” Roman asked. Roman was worried. Was worried about him.
He shook his head, barely able to speak through the tears, through the what ifs still running and running and running through his mind, so loudly.
“H-had to s-see… didn’t kn-know…” he wasn’t being coherent, he barely knew what he was trying to say, but Roman must have understood, in some way.
Carefully, slowly, Roman reached out, tugging Virgil close, wrapping his arms around the lanky side.
“This ok?” He asked, when Virgil didn’t respond at all to his touch. He felt Virgil nod, and he choked out something that was maybe a yes.
Roman nodded, resting his head atop Virgil's, humming softly and he gently swayed with Virgil in his arms.
“there now, my little black hole. It’s alright.” He cried harder at that, somehow, and his hands fisted the fabric of Roman's pajama top, clinging to him as if his life depended on it.
He was barely aware of Roman swaying, murmuring gentle nonsense, as his tears finally gave way to hiccupping gasps, as he sagged against Roman.
“sorry… im sorry, I-"
“Virgil. It is ok, its ok.” He buried his head against Roman, he didn’t want to look up, didn’t want to see the pity in his eyes. “shall we get you back to bed?” his eyes widened, and he shoved out of Roman's embrace, stumbling until his back hit the wall.
“N-no. No! I c-can’t, I c-cant do it a-again, I-" he broke off, breath heaving, hands tangling in his hair as he fought for air, the world blurring around him.
“Kiddo, ya just aren’t really helping Thomas, y'know? It might be better if you just… stopped."
“His productiveness goes down 40 percent whenever you are around, and you also have a damaging effect on his social life. There is no if. Thomas will be empirically better without you.”
“il… eath… please…” no no no no. They were right, of course they were right, he wasn’t good, wasn’t needed, wasn’t-
“virgil.” His eyes shot up, Roman was kneeling a foot away from him, eyes warm with sympathy and concern and understanding. “can you hear me?” he swallowed dryly, managing a small, shaky nod, and Roman's face lit up with a gentle smile.
“good. Then listen to me, ok? You are never unwanted. We love you, I love you. I will never tell you to leave. And I would fight the others if they said otherwise. It was a nightmare, Virge. Just a nightmare.” Slowly, Roman reached out, ever so careful as he tucked Virgil's bangs back, letting his hand rest gently against Virgil's cheek.
“P-p-promise?” Roman's heart broke at that quiet vulnerability, his eyes wide as saucers, filled with a broken kind of hope, a shattering kind of pain.
In an instant, Roman had scooted closer, scooping Virgil onto his lap, cradling him close.
“I promise. I promise, Virgil. I promise.” He let out a soft sniffle, shoulders shaking as he wrapped his arms around Roman’s neck, face pressed against his shoulder, he was tired, so tired, but the fear ate at him, even as Roman rocked him, rubbing his back, murmuring and humming and being so patient with him. And somehow every small action, every small movement of kindness and love sent him back over the edge into tears. They were seemingly endless. He didn’t remember bottling this much up inside, didn’t remember when he shoved all this sadness and deep, aching, endless fear into his chest, but he couldn’t stop it from leaking out now.
“Oh, darling… I know. I know.” He didn’t know how long they had been kneeling there on the floor, but he was exhausted, yet completely unwilling to let go of Roman, too tired to be ashamed of his need for touch right now, too warm and sleepy to force on his dark demeanor, and pretend that he didn’t want this, need this, crave this closeness. “Sometimes talking about nightmares can make them better. That’s what we always do, me and Remus. We tell each other our nightmares, and then we make them better. We say all the ways we would defeat whatever monster hurt or chased or scared us, we turn the fears into something ridiculous. Once, I was being hunted through the imagination, by some giant, shambling, thing. I couldn’t leave the bed, I was terrified. Remus said next time I had that dream, I should imagine the thing trying to move with roller skates on, I should imagine it with googly eyes, I should make its body turn into playdough and its legs into pipe cleaners. It wasn’t so scary after that.” Roman said, getting a small, weak laugh out of Virgil, who shook his head.
“maybe. Maybe in the morning. But i… I can’t… right now, I can’t…”
“That’s ok, too, darling. You don’t have to tell me anything. You don’t have to talk about it. It just may help. Do you wanna spend the rest of the night with me?” He nodded, so fast it made his head spin. He couldn’t bear to go back to his room alone, he would die, if he had to go back alone. “alright. Going up, then, my sliver of starlight.” He let out a soft noise as he was lifted up in Roman’s arms, the fading adrenaline and minor panic attack weighing him down, so he was very nearly asleep by the time Roman carefully settled the two of them in his bed.
He curled tight against Roman, letting out a small happy sigh, at the warmth, at the touch, at the comfort as Roman wrapped his arms around him, cuddling him close and gently, thumb stroking his forehead in blissful, soothing circles.
“go to sleep, Virg. No nightmares will find you here. I promise, love.” Roman murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of his head, causing him to let out a soft, small almost mewl at how damn good he felt. “Sleep well, love. Sweet dreams.”
Janus angst where someone hurts him (Mod's choice) and he goes to Roman's room because it's closest, and the fire in Roman's eyes when he asks who did this to you.
Sunlight made Patton shine bright, almost too bright to look at. His smile was radiant and contagious in the best way, inviting everyone to share the intensity of his happiness. His steps were so light and carefree, as if nothing – no fear or worry – weighted him down. There was no dizziness today, no weakness, it was a good day! He was almost floating, no – skipping. He was skipping.
Exertion of every kind was strictly forbidden. He knew this. Doctor Sanders had made him sit and look at him, had made him bear the focus of those dark, intense eyes that saw so much, that were so piercing and intelligent and seemed to undress him with their singular focus, and made him listen to all of the reasons he could not, must not overexert himself. Patton remembered all of them well.
He just did not care.
It was spring. The sun was shining and finally warm enough to wear the thin, flowing shirt Roman had gifted him with that caressed his bare skin like pale blue rose petals and made him look like a pretty little elf, in his friend’s words, and he would not waste his days – perhaps his last days if he listened to all of those worry warts – locked away in a stuffy hospital room. There was too much to be seen, people to meet, things to do! The world was beautiful!
He laughed in delight as a squirrel shot up a tree close to him, quick and playful. Its bushy tail was the cutest thing he had seen since Virgil’s half smile and he felt blessed by the sight of such a shy and adorable animal. The affectionate young man had never stopped dreaming of being a Disney prince who was loved and trusted by the creatures of the forest and who was allowed to cradle them in his careful palms.
Roman’s protective, nervous presence behind him made him giggle. The larger man worried far too much! Nothing bad happened on sunny days like this one, didn’t he know that? Bad stuff happened on rainy days, silly! He threw an equally sunny smile over his shoulder and skipped on, ignoring the distressed whine. Roman really reminded him of a faithful golden retriever. So cute. He loved him too much. Keeping his smile in place all the time was not always easy. Sometimes it would not sit quite right and he had to exert precious energy to uphold its brightness. But even when it felt as heavy as lead, Patton must not let it slip from his fingers. He feared he might not be able to pick it back up once he lost it. That would not do, he must be there coax out those real smiles from the people that cared about him. And today, it was easy. Today, his smile felt like it belonged.
Oh yes, there it was - his favorite place in the whole park! It was still early, so no children were around yet. He did not wish to disturb them in their space, even though they quickly tended to accept him as a fellow, playful child.
“Oh no, Patton-mine, I don’t think that is such a good idea!” Roman lamented as his little friend squealed and bounded towards the colorful playground. He did not want to worry his caring protector, but he had been good for so long, so careful and docile and obedient for the cautious doctor’s sake. Now he wanted to enjoy himself just a little. What else was the point of having a beating, loving heart if he could not take it outside and play a little bit? Something so innocent really couldn’t hurt, he would barely move after all!
Sighing, he felt his muscles relax as he finally settled of the swing, feeling himself escape the cruel pull of gravity and adult expectations alike and being able to kick his legs and feel the delightful, falling sensation of the swing’s motions. His eyes fluttered closed as he gripped the cool chain and gave himself to the dreamlike state the even, flying movements always invited him to. A grateful, happy sound escaped him as he felt gentle hands on his shoulder-blades and familiar warmth against his back. Roman.
His friend’s hands were warm and large over his skin and supportive as always, as he pushed him up, increasing the strength of the motion without making him invest any effort. Patton squealed in delight as he swung higher. Finally, Roman was losing some of his caution in the face of his friend’s happiness and indulged him – and it was wonderful! The sun was warming his freckled nose, the wind ruffling his hair. He felt light and giddy, like he could fly away on weightless, iridescent hummingbird wings. The creative former councilor enjoyed the bright flashes of sunlight over his closed eyelids and the safety of a caring friend at his back. He allowed his imagination to run free.
As he lost himself in the pendulum motion of the swing, he dreamed of the scents and sounds of the tropical forest that he could only imagine. He was a little bird with tiny, colorful feathers and a cute, long beak made for drinking sweet nectar from lovely flowers. And Roman was there too! He was a large bird of paradise with feathers so long he could trip over them, bright and beautiful and loud and nervous and utterly impractical. Patton laughed at the image of a feathered, croaking prince beating his delightful wings in a nervous dance. So deep in his dream, he almost felt the sensation of the air beneath his wings, his fingers turning to feathers, detailed and light and numb.
The next turn of the swing increased the feeling of flying, the feeling of lightness, weightlessness. His whole body felt like it could be blown away, like he was floating from its confines. He did not feel the chain in his hands anymore. The swing descended backwards again, the brightness behind his lids dimming, darkening, turning to blackness, inky, velvet, drowning him in a weightless, noiseless void.
