Guess who’s back and has lotsa love for Roman? Me!
@teenytinystorage
Jammy : Any Pronouns : Ace and Aro-Spec Just a small space for me to post my fics and reblog other cool fics I find. Hope you enjoy! *Please don’t repost my writing without credit*
Would you pals be cool with me posting non fanfic AU content on here? Bullet fics, headcanons, those things?
For context, I’m really getting into an AU idea of mine (pssst, it’s a rival band AU). I’m planning on writing & posting a fic about it soon, but I also wanna make stuff other than fics for it (and for other AUs of mine too). And I was thinking of posting that extra stuff here, along with my usual fanfic content! (I’d also answer any asks about my AUs, because asks are epic :>)
Pairings: Wouldn’t ya know it, it’s Them Red And Blue Boys Again ❤️💙 (Logince)
Summoning was difficult for Logan.
Not just summoning other sides, no. Bringing anything into existence through sheer willpower proved to be grueling to him.
Logan was attempting to summon now, this time trying to refill his mug with coffee without having to leave the comfort of his chilly, quiet room.
Like every other time, though, his glares and pointing motions weren’t working.
“Do I have to speak it into existence?” he pondered aloud, crouching and inspecting his mug.
He stood back up, sending his hands out in front of him.
“Go!”
Nothing.
He tried with more spastic, summon-like gestures.
“Summon! Refill! Coffee?”
The mug, despite his efforts, remained empty.
Logan groaned, collapsing into his chair. He held his head in his hands.
“Why can’t I summon anything?” he complained, “Is it because logic doesn’t cooperate with imagination?”
Whatever the reasoning, Logan still had a coffeeless mug and a frustrated mind.
He then decided, against his own judgment, that he’d try and get some help with this.
“Okay, okay,” Roman summarized, “what you’re saying is that you’re trying to get your summoning powers to work--”
“--Yes, I am--”
“--And all you’re trying to do is fill a mug of coffee? You’re not even gonna try to summon a dragon?!”
Him and Logan stood across from each other in the kitchen, separated by the counter. Logan barely held onto patience despite only having arrived a minute ago. Meanwhile, Roman’s arms flew to his sides in disbelief.
Logan just shook his head in response.
“Right,” he snarked, “Me, the type to imagine dragons into existence.”
“Band reference?” Roman tried hopelessly.
“No.”
Roman groaned and laid his head onto the kitchen counter.
Logan continued milling around his mug.
“Is it my form? Do I have to employ all parts of my body to get something to appear?” Logan asked, leaning backward in preparation; he then shot forward, his hands bursting open at the porcelain.
Roman leaned over the cup, unimpressed.
“Nada.”
A yell of frustration from Logan.
“How do you make this look so easy?”
Roman grinned. “The real pièce de résistance to summoning is feeling. It’s desiring deep down in your heart what you want.”
“Improbable.”
“Totally probable,” Roman replied, “I think. Your nerd code doesn’t translate well.”
“Improbable means impossible, tonto.”
Roman gasped, “If you’re going to call me a fool, at least do it in English!”
Logan pursed his lips. “Hm. Note to self, Roman knows what tonto means.”
“Yeah, no soy estúpido, maestro,” Roman chided.
Silence overcame them as Roman turned away and inspected his nails.
“Seriously, though, are feelings the root of this summoning ordeal?” Logan tapped the mug, hoping that action alone would fill it up already.
“Well, I’m the most passionate side and summoning comes naturally to me,” Roman chirped, facing him, “And maybe if you were summoning katanas, you’d be able to feel a bit more passionate about it rather than just trying to be a human Keurig.”
“Keurigs are practical and useful, so I’m taking that as a compliment,” Logan hummed, lifting up his mug and swirling it as if it were filled. “I really have to feel like I want more coffee?” he said, raising an eyebrow.
“Probably. Yes. Why not?”
Logan grumbled, “Great. I’ll try my best.”
“I believe in you, Siri,” Roman clicked his tongue.
Logan grumbled before closing his eyes and attempting to “feel” like he “desired” more coffee “with all of his heart.” (Hurk-- he sure desired the caffeine now, but no way in h^$l were feelings involved. At that point, him wanting more coffee was purely a survival instinct.)
He hummed, closing his eyes. Maybe that would help him focus.
“I’m curious,” Roman interrupted.
Logan growled, eyes popping back open. “You usually are.”
“You could’ve just grabbed your cold brew from the fridge by now,” he noted. “Why haven’t you?”
Logan paused, setting down his mug and leaning against the table.
“I wouldn’t want to discontinue this practice before giving it my best try first, Roman. You of all people would understand that, yes?”
Roman’s eyes widened as he stood from the counter. “Wise words. Yes, I would.”
He approached Logan, grabbing the mug and holding it up.
“My advice from before was… misleading. The real root to summoning--”
Roman gave the mug a pointed finger zap before handing the porcelain over.
“--is not sweating it.”
Logan stared in awe at the icy black coffee that swam inside it. No matter how many times he saw Roman or whoever else create whatever they liked out of thin air, it was still a spectacle to watch.
He then took the mug in his hands, holding it close to himself.
“Erm, thank you. I’ll certainly heed to your advice.”
“No prob, portalápiz.”
That night, in his room, Logan stood before the empty mug. It sat on his desk, empty, facing him, challenging him.
He stared back, waiting, like they were engaged in a Western shootout.
Don’t sweat it, Logan remembered.
He calmly approached the desk and grabbed the mug. His legs gave way as he collapsed into his chair and reopened his laptop. And when he went to take a sip, the calming taste of decaf flooded his senses.
A cheer of victory erupted from his throat. He did it! Finally!
And from across the hall, Roman reveled in Logan’s triumphant cheers.
Summary: A prinxiety bakery AU inspired by a Bakery AU prompt!
Word count: 3,801
Warnings: Multiple detailed food descriptions, one “dying from adorableness” mention
Genre: Fluff, romance, and tons of flirty banter
Pairings: Prinxiety
Enjoy! :)
-
Imagine the smell of fresh pastries. All of the pastries you can imagine.
Chocolate cakes, raspberry cupcakes, chocolate chip cookies, strawberry eclairs, confectioners sugar, vanilla cakes fresh from the oven.
Imagine the taste of the sweetest, most fruity desserts you can imagine, still warm from the oven, that melt in your mouth.
Or, imagine the feeling of frosting splattered all over your hands. Licking it off to taste the tantalizing flavors of blueberry and strawberry folded together into one fluffy confection. Or even flour caked all over your clothes. Messy indeed, but delightful in an unexplainably nostalgic way. Or the sound of oven dings. Or delectable treats trapped in glass display cases surrounding you in all directions like a tasty little army.
Now imagine all of these sensations every day from 8 to 4 for five days a week. Amazing, right?
Okay but this is actually adorable!! Read this at like 3am? I just didn’t want it to end, such a cute story and I love your writing style! Can’t wait to read more from you :)
Summary: A relaxing dip in the pool to add to his wonderful birthday soon turns into a surprising and gay-panic-festered chat between Roman and Logan.
Word Count: 1,804
Warnings: Multiple food mentions
Pairings: Logince
Happy birthday Roman! Enjoy the Logince, y’all :)
—
As he shut the Imagination’s door behind him, Roman let out a satisfied exhale and fell back, shifting the grasses below him into a pool and landing upon a circular dragon-witch floatie.
He then transformed his usual outfit into a pair of bright red, gold-embroidered swim trunks and a pair of yellow sport sunglasses.
The sun blazed above, but this being the Imagination, the heat was nowhere near oppressive. A cool breeze was only a hand-wave away, and so was a glass of fresh-squeezed lemonade.
Peace enveloped him as he let himself drift upon the waters and reflect upon how his birthday had been going thus far.
He woke up to a birthday cupcake (red velvet, of course), and a burst of writer’s inspiration. Then Roman received his individual birth wishes from the other sides throughout the day, each giving him a gift.
They were all standard for each side: one Nightmare Before Christmas poster reluctantly given by Virgil (“No bugging me for any more posters after this, though.” “You got it, Sappy.”), a maroon pair of comfy floor-sticky socks from Patton, a free “no vibe checks for one day” pass from Remus, a pile of Thomas’s nostalgic Playbills from Janus, and a promise of a birthday cake later from Thomas (delivered, not homemade. Who knows how that’d turn out).
And now he sat at his very own pool, relaxing and drifting under the clear sky.
A lovely day indeed, but he soon found himself grappling with hurt as he realized who was missing from that gift list. Logan.
Roman hadn’t seen the nerd all day. No one even knew where he was, especially not Roman. He was looking forward to spending some time with Specs today. Seeing his clear, pristine face, hearing him ramble on about how uncanny having a cupcake for breakfast is, being near him, and maybe even getting to playfully elbow him to feel those cold, strong arms of his…
Roman felt a dopey grin line his cheeks, and although he hadn’t changed the temperature of the Imagination, some warmth coated his face and ears upon the thought.
But, alas, he hadn't seen Logan today. Roman decided that was, ultimately, okay. It meant fewer times for him to embarrass himself, after all.
He took another breath in of the air, coconut and citrus-scented, and dipped his hands into the water-- a door near him creaked open.
Roman didn’t mind it at first. Probably a side giving him a reminder of spaghetti dinner tonight, his favorite meal, or just to check on him.
It was only when the figure’s silhouette entered his shades’ vision did he feel the warmth from before burning him.
“Roman? Are you in here?” Logan called, wringing his hands as he strolled through the Imagination.
Roman secretly wished for his dragon-witch floatie to devour him in its plastic casing. It, sadly, didn’t. But his sunglasses vanished from his face. So that was something.
“Down here!” Roman waved, minimizing the lovesick smile he felt bubbling inside into a cheerful grin.
Logan’s gaze drifted down to him as he approached the outskirts of the pool.
Roman waved again, chuckling. One tick onto his “how many times can this lovesick dope humiliate himself today” list.
Logan crouched down next to the pool, his tie dangling down and nearly dipping into the water. “Greetings, Roman.”
“Hi!” Roman said with enthusiasm. He tried and failed to hide how overjoyed he was.
“It appears my daily attire is unfit for this setting, hm?” Logan noted, standing back up. “Here.”
He swiped his hair up with his hand and shifted from his usual polo and slacks to a pair of black swim shorts.
“There we go. Normally I’d wear a swim shirt as well, but since this is the Imagination, I can’t imagine that I’d be getting any sunburns.”
“I can’t imagine so either,” Roman agreed, forcing his drifting eyes to look back up into Logan’s rather than staring at his bare chest.
Gosh, did he have it bad.
Logan crouched down again and submerged his feet into the water, kicking them back and forth against the pool wall. “So Roman, how has your birthday been going so far?”
“Uh, good,” Roman nodded, leaning on his elbows atop his floatie. “Just the usual birthday routine, y’know? Gifts, desserts, fun, all that-- fun stuff.”
He barely avoided slapping himself.
“I’m quite glad to hear that,” Logan added, his hands moving behind his back. “You deserve to be having a good birthday today.”
“Oh, well, that means a lot, Specs. Thank you!”
“Of course,” Logan bit his bottom lip, glancing away.
Roman let out an awkward chuckle before taking notice of Logan’s hidden hands. He paddled himself over to the wall and floated a few inches in front of Logan. “Whatcha got behind your back there?”
“Ah, it’s…” Logan stopped. He took in a breath.
Roman leaned over, trying to sneak a peek. He couldn’t see what it was, though, so it couldn’t be anything big. “It’s?”
Logan ran one of his hands through his hair and took in another shaky breath. “A gift. For you.” He hesitated, closing an eye, before shoving out his hand and revealing the gift.
It was a red rose, roots still intact.
Logan flinched, looking back at Roman.
Roman dumbly stared at it. “A rose, hm? It’s quite pretty.”
“Yes. A red one, at that. Red. A symbolic color. Happy birthday,” Logan rambled, his arm pulling back a tad.
Roman paddled himself closer, somehow planning on accepting the rose and putting it… where? How would he even get it without falling off the floatie? He didn’t think it through at all, just like anything he did around Logan.
“Did I do this wrong?” Logan asked, curious. “I thought a single red rose signified romantic feelings between people.” He inspected the flower down-up, staring at its roots. “Is it the roots that threw you off? I had a sneaking suspicion that the roots were unnecessary, but I couldn't be sure.”
“Roh… romantic feelings?” Roman stammered, gaping at Logan.
“Yes. That’s right, isn’t it? The internet isn’t always a reliable source, however…” he reasoned, “I spent all day making sure this flower would imply the correct meanings… and maybe also just milling about nervously.”
If he felt warm before, Roman was smoldering now. Like all his cells were replaced with stoked coals. He was probably as red as his swim trunks, too.
“I… I…” Roman tried to sit up from his floatie, still barely comprehending the confession just spoken to him.
But his arm slipped, and he squeaked as his floatie tipped off-balance and caused him to plummet into the pool.
“Roman!” he heard Logan call before he met his aquatic fate.
The cool waters rushed over his burning skin, and he was quite thankful for that. But he found a chilly grip resting on his hand, and soon, another splash met the water.
His blurred vision faintly recognized Logan’s flushed, clear figure ahead of him. Logan’s hair floated above his head in a flowing tuft, and his eyes were shut behind his soaked glasses.
Roman was swimming with a real-life Poseidon.
He would’ve stayed to enjoy the view, but his eyes started to burn and his lungs were pleading for air. Roman breached the surface, bobbing on the water and taking in a long breath of air.
Logan rose out right after, a small coughing fit following.
“You okay?” Roman frowned.
Logan nodded, removing his glasses and taking in a breath as he waded in the waters.
Roman then realized Logan was one of those rarities who looked hot even without their glasses. Unfair! his mind cried as his body warmed once more.
“So, you like me?” Roman said, “Like, you like like me? For realsies?”
Logan nodded, “I do. Like like, you. Or love you, in clearer terms. Or am utterly and illogically infatuated with you, in my own terms.” He glanced over to the rose that lounged alone where he sat before.
Roman grinned like the lovesick fool he was.
“Well,” Roman turned, scratching his neck and looking at Logan through his eyelashes. “I like you too.”
Logan looked back at Roman, holding his glasses in his hands. His calloused, cynical expression softened into a calm, admiring one.
Before Roman could stop himself, he swam to Logan and gave him a peck on his exposed widow’s peak.
He then cupped Logan’s cheek and smiled wider. “I hope that suffices as a worthy reply to your rose.”
Logan glanced down, a small smile quirking his lips as he flipped his hair back-- then Roman could barely react to the new feeling of Logan’s lips on his.
The edges of Roman’s smile curled up before he melted into the moment, Logan’s tangy softness taking over all his senses. He released Logan's cheek and wrapped his arms around Logan’s shoulders to pull him closer. Logan followed, wrapping his arms around Roman's waist.
The kiss ended what seemed like years after as Logan pulled away, his eyes fluttering in that pleasing way only kisses could spur on.
Roman, despite still being above the water, wanted to submerge himself inside this moment forever.
“Hey there, kiddos,” a voice dripping with uncomfort echoed. “Uh, bad time for a five-minute supper warning, huh?”
Logan and Roman yelped at the interruption, separating and turning to face the awkwardly grinning Patton standing at the foot of the pool.
“Thank you for the warning, Pat!” Roman took all his remaining energy to act as normal as possible while still being drunk from the kiss. “We’ll be there soon.”
Patton nodded and quickly dismissed himself, sinking out.
Roman turned to Logan and broke out in laughter.
Logan joined in, and soon, both of them couldn’t stop laughing as they bobbed in the water.
Roman then lifted himself up onto the pool’s wall and sat on its tiles, spilling water everywhere around him. He raised his hand out to Logan and beamed.
“You coming, nerd?”
Logan put his glasses back on before he grabbed onto Roman’s hand.
“Sure am, prep.”
Roman tugged Logan out of the water and watched as Logan sat next to him, grasping the rose and offering it to him once more.
“I now accept your rose,” Roman cooed, taking it from Logan and taking a brief whiff before sending it off to his room.
Logan then summoned two towels, brandished with their respective logos, to dry off with. They both wrapped the towels across their shoulders and stood to make their way to dinner.
But before they left, Roman gave Logan a small smooch on the lips and grasped onto his hand again.
Logan’s lips turned upward with his own foolish, lovesick smile.
Two sugary desserts, a takeout spaghetti dinner, five gifts, a boyfriend, and three kisses? Roman tallied.
i cant interact through my sanders sides blog but ahhh !!!! thank you so much for the comments on my logince fic, they warmed my heart 🥺🥺 -@ssidesblog
Aah of course, I’m so glad my comments made you so happy. It was truly a masterpiece (pun intended) to read and there’s no doubt that I’ll reread it over and over again whenever I’m craving Those Soft Red&Blue Boys!! ☺️❤️💙
roman and logan visit a museum and roman has a staring problem
Roman sat in the passenger’s seat of Logan’s car, staring out the window as buildings rushed past. Music played softly from the radio, tuned into some station that neither bothered to change. The car held a comfortable silence, something not of common occurrence when the two boys were together. Roman glanced over at Logan. He was focused on the road, his hands idly tapping some unknown rhythm on the steering wheel. If Roman listened close enough, he could hear Logan humming a song he didn’t know. His expression softened as he admired his friend, a ghost of a smile on his lips. He couldn’t help it, Logan was just too beautiful for his own good. Even with the clouds blocking the shining sun, Logan glowed.
“It looks like it may rain.” Logan spoke for the first time since Roman had entered the car.
“It just might,” Roman said, diverting his gaze from Logan to the overcast weather,“But we’ll be inside for most of it, I think the only outdoor part of the museum is the botanical garden.” Roman glanced back over at Logan, who’s eyes were still on the road.
“I would still like to look at the garden, I believe there are statues displayed among the plants.” Logan chanced a glance at Roman and quickly turned his focus back to the road.
“If we get soaked it’s not on me.” Roman said.
“Well, it was your idea to go to the museum today, so you would be at fault.” Logan said with a smirk. Roman rolled his eyes.
“You’re the one who agreed to come, you get wet, that’s on you.” Roman knew Logan couldn’t argue against that.
“I guess you are correct.” Logan sighed turning into a parking garage.
“Hey, Lo,” Roman waved Logan over to him,“Who painted this one?”
“You know,” Logan said,“The plaques next to each painting displays the artist who painted it.” Roman huffed.
“Yes, I know, but,” Roman looked up at Logan,“You give extra details about the painter, it’s more interesting if you tell me.” Logan’s face turned a darker shade of pink and Roman softly smiled. Logan coughed to clear his throat.
“Well, this one is by Monet…” Logan started and Roman only vaguely listened to what he was saying. Roman honestly couldn’t care about Monet, it was just nice to hear Logan speak. His voice was smooth and reminded him of an audio book, comforting and precise, each word said with intent. Roman’s eyes trailed down to his lips as Logan spoke and oh, what he would do to fit his own to his friend’s, like fitting two puzzle pieces together.
“…very well known for -Roman are you listening?” Logan asked. Roman smiled at him, blush decorating his face.
“Sorry, I must have zoned out.” Roman dismissed with a wave of his hand. Logan eyed him and then sighed.
“If you are going to ask me to talk I would appreciate you listen.” Logan said with a smile, slightly exasperated. Roman chuckled.
“Of course, will do, teach.”
They continued to walk through the museum, Logan providing interesting facts about each artist and Roman actually paid attention, not wanting to get called out again. Logan was always so observant, Roman couldn’t even admire him without him asking why he was staring.
Eventually, they made their way out into the garden. Logan was right, statues were displayed all around the garden, some looming over them and others simple busts on pedestals. The garden itself contained huge trees, vines wrapped around pillars, and flowers stood out as a well needed pop of color. Logan and Roman were the only patrons in the garden.
“What kind of trees are these?” Roman asked, placing a hand on a trunk of one of the many, almost identical, trees. The leaves seemed to rain down and cover the two.
“Oh,” Logan joined him in looking at the tree,“These are weeping willow trees, named after the way the low hanging branches resemble tears.” Logan finished with an adjustment to his glasses.
“They’re really pretty.” Roman said in amazement. He turned towards Logan, who adorned a smile on his face as he looked up at the tree. His smile was so subtle, but it radiated joy when Roman looked at it. Logan looked back down at him, who he caught staring, yet again.
“Didn’t your parents tell you it’s rude to stare?” Logan’s smile turned more into a smirk.
“What else am I supposed to do?” Roman smiled,“They said I’m not allowed to touch the artwork.” Logan’s eyes widened and his face turned bright red. Roman softly laughed. Logan turned away from him, seemingly more interested in a rose bush. Roman sighed, his stomach filled with butterflies. Logan was a little too oblivious. Although Roman flirted with his friends often, it was just in his nature, he really liked Logan. The nerd had wormed his way into Roman’s heart with his dorky facts and even though Logan wasn’t great at feelings, he had a way with words. It also didn’t help that he was the most gorgeous person Roman had ever seen.
He walked over to a bench and sat down, placing his elbow on his knee and resting his head in his hand. He watched as Logan looked at all the different plants, turning to Roman every so often to excitedly gush about the flowers. Roman’s gentle smile was ever present. Truthfully, Roman didn’t really understand the hype around plants. He could enjoy a romantic rose and a good climb in a tree but he just thought plants were plants; they added some decoration to the earth. Logan, however, loved plants. Majoring in botany will do that to someone, and Roman knew how much he had wanted to come to this museum, if only for the garden, so he suggested they paid it a visit. It was worth it to Roman just to watch Logan geek out and be adorable.
Logan eventually tired himself out and joined Roman on the bench. The quietness that settled around them was a little odd, but peaceful. Logan fidgeted with his phone, typing something out. Roman went back to staring at him. His eyes were soft, the usual cynicism and overall disdain for the world was gone from them, replaced by something quieter, kinder. These moments were what Roman appreciated most. Seeing his tight wound friend more relaxed, more himself.
“Roman.” Logan chewed on his bottom lip,“You have been staring at me an awful lot today. Is there something wrong with my appearance?”
“Oh, no none at all.” Roman quickly reassured him, “I just…” He let his sentence trail off. What was he supposed to say; I just like looking at you because you’re the only masterpiece I’ve seen today and I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you.
“Are you okay?” Logan looked up to meet his eyes. “You seem uncharacteristically quiet.”
“Are you saying you like when I talk?” Roman joked.
“Actually, yes I quite do.” Logan replied, looking away. This time, Roman felt his face go hot and he knew he was as red as the roses.
“Well,” Logan stood up awkwardly, “Maybe we should-” Before he could finish, Roman pulled him back down to the bench.
“Logan,” Roman started, fidgeting with his hands,“I keep staring at you because I think you’re stunning and I just enjoy being around you and I think to myself: how did I get this lucky to spend time with this beautiful nerd? This renaissance painting come to life whose eyes I could get lost in, whose voice gets stuck in my head like a favorite song.” Roman moved his hands to Logan’s and he looked up and met his eyes, “What I’m trying to say is I really like you, Lo. And you don’t have to like me back, but you deserve to know how I feel.” He sucked in a breath, waiting for Logan’s response. It was quiet for a while, Roman still holding Logan’s hands and his breath. Finally, Logan spoke.
“I like you too, Roman.” He said with a blush, “And I don’t use words in the same way you do, but I thoroughly enjoy the time we spend together, and I would not trade these moments for the world.” Logan smiled, a genuine smile that Roman couldn’t get enough of. Roman grinned back, finally letting go of his hands. Just as Roman went to speak, the two felt raindrops fall onto them. Roman looked up with a laugh. It came down slowly, but enough to soak through their clothes. Logan stood up and held out a hand for Roman, which he gladly took and lifted himself up. Logan pulled him close and lifted his other hand to Roman’s cheek. Roman wrapped his arms around his waist.
“I know this is cliche, but, may I-” Before Logan could finish, Roman connected the space between them with a soft kiss. Logan smiled into it, moving the hand that was placed on Roman’s cheek to his neck, deepening the kiss. They pulled apart, leaning their foreheads together.
“We’re soaking wet.” Logan said, playfulness laced his words.
“I’ll take responsibility for this one,” Roman said, placing another gentle kiss to Logan’s lips, “Let’s get inside before we grow mold.” Logan chuckled and nodded. They separated, keeping their hands interlocked.
“Well, on the bright side, you got to touch the artwork.” Logan said, a smug look on his face. Roman barked out a laugh.
“That I did, Specs.” He leaned over and pressed a kiss to Logan’s cheek,“That I did”
With the new episode, like many of us, I've started craving fanfic. And it's been long enough, and my memory is bad enough, that basically the only writers i remember are Randomslasher and Altruistic-Skittles.
I know I'm not alone, and I know a lot of content creators have a hard time getting recognition and stuff, so i think this might be a good medium.
So basically, just, reblog this with tags, and if youre a writer yourself, just reblog with a comment. Something identifying you as a writer. Because i AM going to ask that if your yourself dont write fic, or arent tagging someone, to please keep comments and things in the tags. Unless, of course, something needs to be brought to my attention. Also, i AM counting comics among fanfic, because, while not the same thing, they are very similar at their core.
I know, realistically, that this probably isnt going to go that well, but if nothing else, i do think that its a good idea.
So, please, identify as many writers as possible. If you only know one or two off the top of your head? Perfectly fine. If you can't think of any? Perfectly fine. Just reblog as much as you can, and lets get our creators some traffic!
Ill start off by tagging the ones i mentioned
@randomsnippets @altruistic-skittles
(Ps, in case it wasnt clear enough, this is specifically for the Thomas Sanders Sanders Sides fandom)
(Also, i tagged randomsnippets instead of randomslasher because snippets is where LJ posts their writing)
Warning: Swearing, sexual jokes, Remus-like ideas, mention of tearing one’s heart out of their chest, kissing, Roman is an oblivious dumbass, Virgil is a pining dumbass, and Remus is a dumbass dumbass who loves his dumbass brother
______________________________
Summary: Remus and Virgil may not get along but the one thing they have in common is that they love Roman. Both in different ways, mind you, and Remus tries to help Virgil deal with his own affections. It’s definitely interesting to say the least.
Can you make a fanfic with Logan and Deceit only talking in memes
Hi!! so I don’t think this is exactly what you wanted... but I love them Brain Cell Bois so i hope you enjoy!!
•——•
Vocab Cards
Summary: Logan is very much Struggling with learning new slang, but who decides to actually help the Disaster Nerd but the slimy snake boy Deceit? Welp, this’ll be interesting.
Word Count: 1,291
Warnings: one (1) “not wanting to hurl” mention, implied body horror
Genre: Fluff?? Probably?
Pairings: Platonic/Romantic Loceit
-
“You know,” Deceit quipped, staring down at his gloved fingers as he stood in front of the camera and to the left of Logan, “you’re not very good at those.”
“At what?” Logan responded quickly, stuffing his “LOL” vocabulary card back into his jeans pocket as the other sides watched the two banter.
“Those vocabulary cards! Oh, you ‘ought to have someone teach you this stuff,” Deceit flicked his tongue at his teeth, “Who am I kidding, I’d even write some cards for you at this point,” he snickered before turning to Thomas. “But Thomas--”
-
So then, Deceit knows some slang, Logan thought, Deceit’s wittiness still ringing in his ears even after the video ended and the sides each dispersed into their respective rooms.
He sat at his computer, typing and retyping LOL into UrbanDictionary to make sure that, yes, his card was right, LOL was an acronym that stood for “laughing out loud” and he had his definition right on the card.
He even used it the right way too. He said, “Thomas, this is not a LOL matter.”
That’s the right usage. Sure it messed up the phrase “laughing matter” up a bit, but it was hip, so it didn’t matter too much.
So why was it so badly received? Did Deceit really know more about this whole slang deal than he did?
I’d even write some cards for you at this point, Deceit had said earlier.
Hm. Hmmm. Hm indeed.
Logan could use the outside perspective, in his opinion. He knew it wasn’t reliable to have only one source on anything, but for slang, he could never find any other “reliable sources” (HUGE air quotes on that, UrbanDictionary was in no way a college-research-paper-worthy site) but one; everything else just made no sense and was contradictory and confusing.
Maybe conferring with a knowledgeable colleague on the subject could be useful? That always helped with the scientific method. And Logan was basically going into this whole trend thing blind anyways, so it wasn’t like any conversation between them could hurt.
This line of thinking led Logan to stand from his seat, stuff a few blank index cards into his pockets and a ballpoint pen in there too for good measure. He gave one final adjustment of his glasses before sinking down into the classy snake-faced side’s room.
-
Deceit, sitting on his couch, engrossed in a copy of The Painting of Dorian Gray, gave a glance and then a double-take of Logan before sighing heavily and shutting his book.
“Ep ep ep--” Deceit held his pointer finger up in the air, “before you ask, yes, Remus did your little project and confirmed that we can regenerate limbs. And before you ask, no, I did not ask how he found it out because I didn’t care nor did I want to hurl today.”
“I actually came here to-- wait, really?” Logan responded, surprised, taking out an index card and quickly jotting down the findings. “Fascinating.”
“It’s ickier to me than it is fascinating, no cap,” Deceit complained as he smoothed the fringe peeking out from his hat. “But it’s your research and not mine, so go off, I suppose.”
Then Logan, upon hearing Deceit’s confusing phrases about hats and/or glacial structures and his encouragement for Logan to keep researching and/or to leave (slang was so confusing), remembered what he came here for in the first place.
“Right, Deceit,” Logan stuffed his index card of findings into his pants pocket, adding, “Earlier today I used a slang term that I believe stands for ‘laughing out loud,’ but your reaction implied to me that I may have been incorrect in the context of its usage. Would you care to elaborate on that?” Logan asked, clicking the pen in his pocket a few times as he spoke.
Deceit lounged back on the couch and held the back of his head in his hands. “Cssssertainly. You should totally use acronyms as if they’re the actual words they stand for, it definitely isn’t cringe-worthy at all.”
Logan, bewildered at the fact that Deceit even decided to answer his query (or humor him, more likely), quickly filed the information into his brain. “Oh. Oh, okay. And would you be willing to maintain your offer of assisting me with inscribing more vocabulary cards?”
“I hope you realize that was just some quick and witty charm of mine,” Deceit hummed. “You do take things very seriously though. That’s just your vibe.”
Logan’s expression faltered a bit. “Oh.”
Deceit paused, glancing his eyes up at the ceiling irritatedly before looking back at Logan. “You know what? If it keeps you from committing any other word atrocities such as the one today, then sure, I’ll help.”
“Really?” Logan replied just barely before he sank out and perused the internet for at least four hours for new slang terms on his own. “You would?”
“Sure. But I’m not a meme connoisseur by any means, I leave that to the raccoon. I’ll still try my best, though.”
-
It was relatively quiet in Deceit’s room after Deceit’s initial lecturings, including “never describe emojis out loud in words” and “for the love of your nonexistent mother, please never use ‘periodt’ like it’s actual punctuation.”
“So was it Lebanese or lesbian?” Logan asked, scribbling on another index card and laying stomach-down on the floor.
“It was lesbian,” Deceit said, sitting vertically and upside-down on the couch with his head almost on the floor and his hat barely hanging onto his head.
“Ah,” Logan commented, finishing the card. “Is the humor supposed to arise from the child thinking the camera-lady said Lebanese instead of lesbian, which conflicts with her allegedly American nationality?”
“No one knows,” Deceit answered.
“Ah, of course,” Logan replied, setting the card into a now growing stack of finished terms.
The two kept writing.
“Ok, here’s a test,” Deceit said a few minutes later, turning to Logan. “And they were roommates.”
Logan took a second before responding, monotonously, that is, “Oh my god, they were roommates.”
Deceit nodded his head in surprise. “You’re getting good at this.”
“You think so?” Logan asked, a small sense of accomplishment seeping into him.
“Well you’re certainly better than the LOL matter from before,” Deceit commented, chuckling.
-
Soon the next video had already started before Logan knew it.
“But doesn’t it seem like the right thing to do here is help?” Patton asked, twiddling his fingers together.
Thomas sighed.
“Well, I think that y’all’d’ve a bit of patience for Thomas. His vibes are a bit whack at the moment, no cap,” Logan interjected, still in his monotone voice.
The sides, and Thomas as well, stared at Logan in disbelief.
“What?” Logan peered around the room.
“Where did you learn all that?” Virgil asked, jaw hanging open and eyes wide.
“Deceit taught me a bit more about slang so I don’t inspire any more cringe-fests for you all.”
“Weird flex, but okay,” Deceit replied, rising up next to Logan.
“Agh!! Can you just leave— him—” Virgil shot a glare at Deceit, “—out of this??” Virgil pleaded, now irritated and growling under his breath. “I’ve already had my fair share of sleep-paralysis demons for today.”
“Quite uncommon for the Protohype to be so well-versed in lingo,” Roman mused. “But alas, continue on I suppose.”
“Yeah, good work Logan, but what is Deceit doing here again?” Thomas asked, to which Patton replied: “Yeah, I think Thomas has his mind pretty well made up on this decision already!”
“Oh please,” Deceit started.
Logan couldn’t help but, for a moment, revel in his success, before, of course, going back to being the coolest cool teacher cool guy in the entire Thomas-sphere.
Can you make a fanfic with Logan and Deceit only talking in memes
Hi!! so I don’t think this is exactly what you wanted... but I love them Brain Cell Bois so i hope you enjoy!!
•——•
Vocab Cards
Summary: Logan is very much Struggling with learning new slang, but who decides to actually help the Disaster Nerd but the slimy snake boy Deceit? Welp, this’ll be interesting.
Word Count: 1,291
Warnings: one (1) “not wanting to hurl” mention, implied body horror
Genre: Fluff?? Probably?
Pairings: Platonic/Romantic Loceit
-
“You know,” Deceit quipped, staring down at his gloved fingers as he stood in front of the camera and to the left of Logan, “you’re not very good at those.”
“At what?” Logan responded quickly, stuffing his “LOL” vocabulary card back into his jeans pocket as the other sides watched the two banter.
“Those vocabulary cards! Oh, you ‘ought to have someone teach you this stuff,” Deceit flicked his tongue at his teeth, “Who am I kidding, I’d even write some cards for you at this point,” he snickered before turning to Thomas. “But Thomas--”
-
So then, Deceit knows some slang, Logan thought, Deceit’s wittiness still ringing in his ears even after the video ended and the sides each dispersed into their respective rooms.
He sat at his computer, typing and retyping LOL into UrbanDictionary to make sure that, yes, his card was right, LOL was an acronym that stood for “laughing out loud” and he had his definition right on the card.
He even used it the right way too. He said, “Thomas, this is not a LOL matter.”
That’s the right usage. Sure it messed up the phrase “laughing matter” up a bit, but it was hip, so it didn’t matter too much.
So why was it so badly received? Did Deceit really know more about this whole slang deal than he did?
I’d even write some cards for you at this point, Deceit had said earlier.
Hm. Hmmm. Hm indeed.
Logan could use the outside perspective, in his opinion. He knew it wasn’t reliable to have only one source on anything, but for slang, he could never find any other “reliable sources” (HUGE air quotes on that, UrbanDictionary was in no way a college-research-paper-worthy site) but one; everything else just made no sense and was contradictory and confusing.
Maybe conferring with a knowledgeable colleague on the subject could be useful? That always helped with the scientific method. And Logan was basically going into this whole trend thing blind anyways, so it wasn’t like any conversation between them could hurt.
This line of thinking led Logan to stand from his seat, stuff a few blank index cards into his pockets and a ballpoint pen in there too for good measure. He gave one final adjustment of his glasses before sinking down into the classy snake-faced side’s room.
-
Deceit, sitting on his couch, engrossed in a copy of The Picture of Dorian Gray, gave a glance and then a double-take of Logan before sighing heavily and shutting his book.
“Ep ep ep--” Deceit held his pointer finger up in the air, “before you ask, yes, Remus did your little project and confirmed that we can regenerate limbs. And before you ask, no, I did not ask how he found it out because I didn’t care nor did I want to hurl today.”
“I actually came here to-- wait, really?” Logan responded, surprised, taking out an index card and quickly jotting down the findings. “Fascinating.”
“It’s ickier to me than it is fascinating, no cap,” Deceit complained as he smoothed the fringe peeking out from his hat. “But it’s your research and not mine, so go off, I suppose.”
Then Logan, upon hearing Deceit’s confusing phrases about hats and/or glacial structures and his encouragement for Logan to keep researching and/or to leave (slang was so confusing), remembered what he came here for in the first place.
“Right, Deceit,” Logan stuffed his index card of findings into his pants pocket, adding, “Earlier today I used a slang term that I believe stands for ‘laughing out loud,’ but your reaction implied to me that I may have been incorrect in the context of its usage. Would you care to elaborate on that?” Logan asked, clicking the pen in his pocket a few times as he spoke.
Deceit lounged back on the couch and held the back of his head in his hands. “Cssssertainly. You should totally use acronyms as if they’re the actual words they stand for, it definitely isn’t cringe-worthy at all.”
Logan, bewildered at the fact that Deceit even decided to answer his query (or humor him, more likely), quickly filed the information into his brain. “Oh. Oh, okay. And would you be willing to maintain your offer of assisting me with inscribing more vocabulary cards?”
“I hope you realize that was just some quick and witty charm of mine,” Deceit hummed. “You do take things very seriously though. That’s just your vibe.”
Logan’s expression faltered a bit. “Oh.”
Deceit paused, glancing his eyes up at the ceiling irritatedly before looking back at Logan. “You know what? If it keeps you from committing any other word atrocities such as the one today, then sure, I’ll help.”
“Really?” Logan replied just barely before he sank out and perused the internet for at least four hours for new slang terms on his own. “You would?”
“Sure. But I’m not a meme connoisseur by any means, I leave that to the raccoon. I’ll still try my best, though.”
-
It was relatively quiet in Deceit’s room after Deceit’s initial lecturings, including “never describe emojis out loud in words” and “for the love of your nonexistent mother, please never use ‘periodt’ like it’s actual punctuation.”
“So was it Lebanese or lesbian?” Logan asked, scribbling on another index card and laying stomach-down on the floor.
“It was lesbian,” Deceit said, sitting vertically and upside-down on the couch with his head almost on the floor and his hat barely hanging onto his head.
“Ah,” Logan commented, finishing the card. “Is the humor supposed to arise from the child thinking the camera-lady said Lebanese instead of lesbian, which conflicts with her allegedly American nationality?”
“No one knows,” Deceit answered.
“Ah, of course,” Logan replied, setting the card into a now growing stack of finished terms.
The two kept writing.
“Ok, here’s a test,” Deceit said a few minutes later, turning to Logan. “And they were roommates.”
Logan took a second before responding, monotonously, that is, “Oh my god, they were roommates.”
Deceit nodded his head in surprise. “You’re getting good at this.”
“You think so?” Logan asked, a small sense of accomplishment seeping into him.
“Well you’re certainly better than the LOL matter from before,” Deceit commented, chuckling.
-
Soon the next video had already started before Logan knew it.
“But doesn’t it seem like the right thing to do here is help?” Patton asked, twiddling his fingers together.
Thomas sighed.
“Well, I think that y’all’d’ve a bit of patience for Thomas. His vibes are a bit whack at the moment, no cap,” Logan interjected, still in his monotone voice.
The sides, and Thomas as well, stared at Logan in disbelief.
“What?” Logan peered around the room.
“Where did you learn all that?” Virgil asked, jaw hanging open and eyes wide.
“Deceit taught me a bit more about slang so I don’t inspire any more cringe-fests for you all.”
“Weird flex, but okay,” Deceit replied, rising up next to Logan.
“Agh!! Can you just leave— him—” Virgil shot a glare at Deceit, “—out of this??” Virgil pleaded, now irritated and growling under his breath. “I’ve already had my fair share of sleep-paralysis demons for today.”
“Quite uncommon for the Protohype to be so well-versed in lingo,” Roman mused. “But alas, go forth I proclaim.”
“Yeah, good work Logan, but what is Deceit doing here again?” Thomas asked, to which Patton replied: “Yeah, I think Thomas has his mind pretty well made up on this decision already!”
“Oh please,” Deceit started.
Logan couldn’t help but, for a moment, revel in his success, before, of course, going back to being the coolest cool teacher cool guy in the entire Thomas-sphere.
Summary: A prinxiety bakery AU inspired by a Bakery AU prompt!
Word count: 3,801
Warnings: Multiple detailed food descriptions, one “dying from adorableness” mention
Genre: Fluff, romance, and tons of flirty banter
Pairings: Prinxiety
Enjoy! :)
-
Imagine the smell of fresh pastries. All of the pastries you can imagine.
Chocolate cakes, raspberry cupcakes, chocolate chip cookies, strawberry eclairs, confectioners sugar, vanilla cakes fresh from the oven.
Imagine the taste of the sweetest, most fruity desserts you can imagine, still warm from the oven, that melt in your mouth.
Or, imagine the feeling of frosting splattered all over your hands. Licking it off to taste the tantalizing flavors of blueberry and strawberry folded together into one fluffy confection. Or even flour caked all over your clothes. Messy indeed, but delightful in an unexplainably nostalgic way. Or the sound of oven dings. Or delectable treats trapped in glass display cases surrounding you in all directions like a tasty little army.
Now imagine all of these sensations every day from 8 to 4 for five days a week. Amazing, right?
Roman Dante would certainly agree.
He worked as a humble cake decorator, sometimes as a server when he was the last resort, at Sanders Bake Shop, a small local bakery with a few locations scattered around Gainesville, Florida.
It had everything you think it would: baby blue striped wallpaper, tiled floor, a delightfully large selection of treats, a modest kitchen, and smiles and kind greetings from the workers upon every customer that entered into the door.
And Roman’s location was managed by a tall, strict fellow by the name of Logan Mortensen. He was the no-nonsense, follow-the-recipe-like-your-life-depends-on-it type. Aka, not a paragon of fun, or anything really that a bakery would call for.
But, he kept the finances in check and he would scarcely run the kitchen, both of which Roman was thankful for. And Logan did admire Roman’s ability to cull the most immaculate designs for desserts from his ever-working mind, which Roman was humbly flattered by. So, overall, certainly not the worst manager he could have.
And all of his other coworkers? They were all just as sweet as the desserts they served. Especially the modest lead baker, Patton Stockton. Gosh, just talking to him gave Roman a brain cavity. A lovely lad with a heart of the purest gold. He was on a three-day vacation right now, but Roman was still overjoyed at the prospect of being able to talk to him again soon.
The oven dinged. Roman slipped two maroon oven mitts onto his hands, and he lifted open the oven door, his face being hit with the fresh scent of chocolate cake and the oven’s radiating warmth. He lifted up the cake pan and set it onto a patch of floral-decorated cloth, surrounded by many other cloth patches across a wide marble counter in the middle of the kitchen.
Roman pranced over to the pastry fridge, his steps following the invigoratingly poppy rhythm of “Don’t Stop Me Now” from Queen that flowed through his left earbud, while his right earbud waited patiently in his red apron pocket.
(The song was on his “Decoration Dancing” playlist, aka a playlist just for decorating cakes and also to jam out to on slow work days. Logan didn’t really approve of listening to music while baking, but it kept Roman productive, albeit in a very extraneous way, but productive nonetheless, so he let Roman listen to music.)
Roman opened the long glass fridge door before he quickly strode back to the cake, raised it up in his arms gently like a newborn, and after sliding back to the pastry fridge, placed it inside and shut the door behind it.
He adored his job and everything about it. He treasured every day that he stepped in the front glass doors and heard the tiny metallic pink bell above him welcome him with an adorable little ding.
But what he most admired were all the patrons of the bakeshop. The shop wasn’t swamped with people very often, so it was facile for Roman to listen to and observe all the different customers from his workspace.
There were the usual groups of small families or pairs looking for a few cookies or cupcakes to snack on, the occasional frazzled man or woman before a wedding frantically trying to pick out an extravagant cake, and, of course, tons of birthday party planners.
A parent or two would come inside with tiny, adorable children and pick out whichever design the child wanted, more than likely a Disney character or a superhero or a Barbie doll dress cake, and Roman’s heart would melt every time he saw their admiring smiles of Roman’s work.
Roman mostly stayed in the back with Patton, though, seeing as the other employees would go serve, and also because he wasn’t too good at keeping track of orders, nor was he very interested in serving anyway.
However, he still enjoyed leaning past the kitchen doorway opening with Patton and seeing all the adorable children pressing their faces against the glass in awe. Both of them cherished the patrons and watched to see what treats they’d have to whip up together.
But, enough with all of that. Roman could go on and on forever about how much he adored his job.
And besides, the bell above the door rang, signaling Roman to turn his head towards Logan, who was on the other side of the counter reading a recipe book and mixing a bowl of cupcake dough together. (Logan had to take the role of baker today, seeing as Patton eventually succumbed to Logan’s rantings about Patton needing to take a break once and awhile from constant working. Roman felt bad for anyone who had to have the drab delicacies baked up by the subpar chef.)
“Hey, Lo,” Roman whispered.
Logan looked up from the recipe, adjusting his charcoal glasses.
Roman quickly tilted his head towards the door. “I gotta answer that?”
Logan nodded. “All the servers are on break.”
“Curses,” Roman grumbled under his breath.
He pressed pause on his bop and stuffed his earbuds into his apron pocket. He took in a deep breath and put on his best Hi-how-can-I-help-you smile as he headed toward the front counter.
And even before getting past the doorway, a wave of ineffable tension struck him over the head like a falling cake tray. The tension cake was frosted with stress and topped off with eloquent piped roses of intimidation.
This dreary dude looked nothing like any of the patrons Roman’s ever observed before. Heck, he’d be more fitting on a metal album cover than at a pastel-hued bakery like this.
The patron was pretty well-sculpted physically, as if constructed out of the finest of fondants. He wore a slim, satiny leather jacket fit with zippers along the sleeve cuffs. He had a distressed purple shirt under the jacket and two chain necklaces strung along his neck, one with a blank black-rimmed dog-tag.
Ripped black jeans and knee-length spiked combat boots with skulls on them both covered his lower half. Black eyeliner and opaque black eyeshadow made the gothic guest’s green eyes even more striking. Dark circular earrings clung onto his ears. A messy tuft of black hair flowed down to his jawline.
Now, all of that raised the intimidation factor up to the extreme (and the gayness factor too, in Roman’s case. What? This grim guy looked fine). All this humdrum human needed now was a shiny black motorbike, and you’d never want to encounter him on a bad day.
But, all the fear factor of this guy with gruesome guise had a few caveats.
The somber shopper was barely 5’1”, and both his hunched-over posture and his leaning against the wall in the far left corner of the store didn’t make him look any taller.
Also, the menacing man appeared uneasy, glancing around the store constantly as if he thought a cake would leap out and attack him. So, the desolate dude’s anxiety himself settled Roman’s nerves a little bit.
But that didn’t stop his heart from pounding in his chest.
He shook his head and headed out the kitchen door, trying to gather all the courage inside him to go greet the customer. He stood behind the display counter and collected his words.
“Hello, welcome to Sanders Bake Shop!” Roman trilled clearly, despite his quick breaths.
The paranoid patron peered up at Roman, his eyes widening in a snap. He seemed more terrified of Roman than Roman was of him (which, c’mon. Roman was only a few inches taller than him, certainly not as physically fit as him, Roman’s name on his nametag was written in scribbly calligraphy with a star next to it, and Ro wore a bright white sweater under his bright red apron for Pete’s sake. He had nothing to be afraid of with Roman.) Nevertheless, the bleak boy appeared petrified. He frantically set his leaning leg down onto the ground and shamefully waved his hand.
“H… Hi,” the customer responded with a low, gravelly voice. It sounded like the crunching of tires over a rough patch in the road. It made Roman’s heart rate rise quicker.
“How-- how may I help you today?” Roman stumbled over his greeting, which he hoped with all his heart that Logan didn’t hear.
“Uh, yeah,” the cast-down customer shuffled over to the display, stuffing his hands into his jean pockets. “Still lookin’, thanks.”
Despite that answer, the morbid man still appeared to be stalking for something specific in the glass display. But Roman was just happy he could get a break, even if only for a minute.
“Alright, take your time,” Roman lopsidedly smiled, twirling his hidden earbud wire around his fingers.
A moment coated with apprehension like chocolate mousse over a fresh cake passed, where the spooked searcher uneasily peered through the display case, scanning through it with his finger, and where Roman tried his best to keep the overly cheery smile on his face. The creepy client’s curious expression made him look… strangely adorable.
“Do..” the ill-at-ease individual peered up at Roman innocently through his eyelashes and bushy hair, only raising Roman’s gay panic more, “do you guys have off-menu items here?”
“Huh? Oh,” Roman leapt out of his trance of admiring the fretting fellow. “Well, we have some more treats that aren’t in the display case, if that’s what you’re wondering.”
“Hm. Why’s that?” The worried wight asked, seemingly to get the conversation off-track on purpose.
Roman shrugged. “That stuff doesn’t sell well normally. People don’t buy it, we don’t display it.”
“Huh,” the stressed soul mused.
“Is there anything, in particular, you were looking for?” Roman tilted his head.
“Uhm..” the perturbed patron looked down. “do you have..” his voice trailed off.
“What was that?”
“strawb..”
Roman leaned over toward him. “Still can’t hear you.”
“S-Strawberry shortcake?” The dude asked, his voice dripping with shame.
And, just like that, all the tension in the room left. This figure of fear and intimidation. Ordering. A strawberry shortcake. The, unarguably, cutest dessert. That the bakery. Could possibly. Offer. A dessert more fit for a small child than for this foreboding fella.
It was precious.
“Strawberry shortcake?” Roman responded, making sure he wasn’t hallucinating. Making sure he wasn’t imagining the charming client being even more adorable. His face sparked with a smile, and he tried his best to keep himself from squealing like the toddlers that saw Roman’s cake creations.
The lovable lad nodded, holding the back of his neck with his hand.
“Yeah, we’ve got that,” Roman responded, still trying to keep himself from awwing loud enough to shake the earth.
And at that response, the fetching fella’s face irradiated with the most effervescent excitement Roman had ever seen. He nodded his head rapidly, a smile coating his pointed lips like a layer of buttercream frosting between two deliciously stacked red velvet cakes.
Roman, trying to stop himself from dying of adorableness right then and there, turned his head toward the doorway of the kitchen. “One strawberry shortcake!” he shouted at Logan, who peered up from his recipe book and gave a quick nod of his head and raised up two fingers.
(The amount of non-verbal communication Logan and Roman had together was incredible. These two could have a whole two hours of conversation without once moving their mouths. Who am I kidding, they probably already have.)
“Alright. We’ve got two in the back.”
The patron’s smile grew massively before he disgracefully let it fade from his lips. He sprawled a scowl back on the sharp lineaments of his cheeks and lowered his head toward the ground. He stuffed his hands into his pockets as his pupils glanced up at Roman through his eyelashes. “Uh, yeah.” He shrugged. “I’ll take one, I guess.”
“Okay shortcake~” Roman playfully teased.
“Ugh.” the dear covered his face with his hands, cowering away from the flirty remark. This dude really is adorable, Roman silently squealed.
“Bring one out!” Roman yelled to Logan.
Logan peered through the doorway and rolled his eyes, headed toward the back freezer.
“So..” Roman leaned on the chilly marble countertop.
“So,” the slender specter raised an eyebrow, his head raising back up.
“Got any plans later this week?” Roman asked, his heart thumping against his ribs, just barely letting his lungs get enough air to attempt to court this devilishly handsome dude.
“Not really,” he shrugged. “Why’d you ask?”
“Oh, no reason,” Roman smirked.
The lovely lad narrowed his eyes and tilted his head to the side. “Oookay.” His eyes then opened back to normal, tapping his fingers on his thighs. “Say, y’know, if I come here again,” he swayed back and forth on his heels and toes, “what’d you recommend for me to get?”
“Oh! Great question,” Roman smiled. “I’d say the mini s’mores pies myself. Not the most stunning, to be quite honest, but they certainly make up for it in chewiness and sweetness!” Roman passionately raised a finger into the air, earning a chuckle from his one and only listener. “We only sell them in pairs or more though, but I’m sure you could find someone else to share them with,” Roman winked.
“Oh my gosh,” the menacing man put his hand over his face once more. (Roman would have to rethink his flirting if the guy got this flustered every time he made a cute remark. It was fun to tease him though, Roman would admit.) “Yeah, I’m sure I could,” he considered as he lowered his hand, “maybe he’d like to share ‘em with me after his shift?” he smirked.
“Maybe he would,” Roman leaned with his elbows on the countertop, staring dreamily at the pleasing patron.
Roman then felt a sharp jab in his ribs, and he looked over to see that Logan was looming over him like an ominous spirit and had elbowed him to get his attention. “One eight-inch strawberry shortcake,” he calmly stated, holding a cardboard cake box in his other hand with the Sanders Bake Shop logo printed across the lid.
“Ah, right,” Roman stood back up, scratching the back of his neck with his hand and grabbing the box. “Uh, thank you.”
“Remember, flirting comes after work,” Logan flatly reminded Roman, leading to Roman audibly fake-cough to cover up his flustered expression with his hand. The customer chuckled.
Logan wandered back into the kitchen, arms crossed.
“So, uh, your total’s gonna be thirty-two ninety-five,” Roman displayed the total on the register. “Cash or credit?”
“Credit. I’ll save my cash for something else,” the patron gave Roman an equivocal smile.
“Alright, just swipe on the side,” Roman added. “And hey, what’s this ‘something else’ you’re talking about? I thought you said you were free this week.” Roman arched his back upward, sassily holding his hands on his hips.
“Oh, it just kinda came up now,” he furrowed his brows, “Might be going somewhere with a dude I don’t really know. And wow,” he emphasized the interjection immensely, “I think his name’s Roman too.”
“Man, what I’d give to be this guy.”
The charming client chuckled, swiping his card. “Yep.”
“Just sign here and you’ll be good to go, shortstack.”
“Hey, glass houses, you’re not that tall either,” the pretty patron noted as he grabbed the attached pen and signed his name on the screen.
Roman gasped noisily, holding a hand over his heart.
The sweetie, who Roman now saw his signature on the computer and decoded from the sharp lettering that his name was Virgil Heath, blew a quick chuckle out his nose.
“Hey wait, you’re Virgil?” Roman glanced up from the screen, his expression becoming curious.
“Yep. Always have been.”
“My last name’s Dante, like that Dante guy from The Inferno,” Roman looked at Virgil and smiled longingly.
“Hm. And Virgil was a Roman poet too. Cool,” Virgil shrugged.
“Fate must’ve brought us together,” Roman cooed.
“Gosh, you really are like a Disney prince,” he shook his head. “All ya need is a flock of woodland creatures to brush your hair for you every morning.”
“Bold of you to assume that I don’t already have birds sing me awake and deer prepare a bubble bath for me every morning at sunrise,” Roman teased.
The sweetheart burst out with laughter, making Roman’s heart flutter. “Well, then. Nice to meet ya, mister Dante.”
“Pleasure to meet you too, mister Heath,” Roman nodded with a grin spread across his lips, sliding the cardboard cake box over to Virgil and tearing a receipt from the printer.
“Just Virge is fine, I’m not that professional,” Virgil mentioned.
“Then honey-buns is just fine for me,” Roman playfully winked and let the tip of his tongue slide out of his mouth, causing Virgil to shield his eyes once more.
Roman quickly uncapped a marker and scribbled a message onto the receipt. “Okay, you are good to… go,” Roman smiled, placing the receipt face-up onto the box.
Virgil uncovered his eyes. “Alrighty,” he grabbed onto the box, lifted it from the table, and started to tread out toward the door.
“Bye-bye dear Virgil!” Roman cheerfully cried out.
“Seeya,” Virgil turned his head. “And Ro?”
Roman kept his eyes glued onto him.
“Thanks for the cake,” he smiled.
“You’re welcome,” Roman nodded, sweetly smiling at Virgil.
Virgil switched the box to one hand, the receipt still balanced on the top of the box, and opened the door. The bell dinged once more, and once Virgil left, it chimed its own sweet farewell.
Roman watched Virgil intently with his heart racing as Virgil headed back toward his car, the receipt still on the box, thankfully not flying or blowing off.
Once the dude got away from the windows, Roman let out a massive sigh and leaned against the wall. That was a lot.
But as Roman’s heart sank below the crashing tides of adoration, he hoped Virgil would see what he wrote on the receipt before tossing it.. and that Virge would hopefully have some way to respond to it.
-
A few minutes later, Roman was in the kitchen, piping extravagant curls and swirls onto a cake while the contagiously catchy “Hello” by The Cat Empire rippled through his earbuds, when the bakery’s bright red mounted phone rang through the room.
“Logan? Can you get that please?” Roman tilted his head toward the supply closet, where Logan strolled through the door and toward the phone.
“It’s ‘could I get that,’ and yes, I shall.”
Roman let out an irritated exhale. Who was Logan if he wasn’t always annoyingly correcting your grammar like an English teacher?
“Besides, I wouldn’t want you to get frosting all over the phone,” Logan declared. He strolled to the phone and lifted it from its holder and up to his ear. “Sanders Bake Shop. I’m Logan, how may I help you?”
Roman watched Logan’s face become mildly surprised upon hearing the caller. “Oh, you want to talk to Roman? Sure. I’ll put him on.”
Logan looked at Roman and tilted his head toward the phone.
Roman picked up a towel and wiped off his frosting-covered hands while he wandered over. He threw the towel onto the counter as he answered the phone and paused his music. “Hello?”
“Oh, hey, you answered,” a familiar gravelly voice responded. It was Virgil. (Huh.. using the bakery’s phone number to talk to Roman.. smart.)
Roman’s lips curled into a smirk as his fingers started twirling the phone wire. “My my my, why, isn't this the Virgil who I just met today?”
“Sure is. And I saw your note.”
Roman’s heart fluttered in his chest. He had signed the back of the receipt with a calligraphy message:
Meet me @ Prince park 4:30 this Friday? <3
Yes, he did just ask this random dude on a date, and yes, that does make him even more of a Disney prince.
“It sounds great. Frozen yogurt after?”
Roman nodded excitedly, his face igniting with a smile not unlike that of an excited child’s, which received a perplexed observing Logan in response. “Yes! Yes, perfect.”
“Nice. I’m sure it’ll be a real slice.” Roman could hear Virgil smirking over the phone.
Roman smiled at the Hercules reference. “Absolutely! I’ll see you then.”
“Bye.”
Roman hung the phone back onto the wall.
“Let me guess. Virgil?”
“How do you know his name?” Roman pursed his lips.
“You’re not exactly quiet when you’re head-over-heels obsessed with someone,” Logan noted.
“Uh, rude! This is not an,” Roman mocked with air-quotes, “‘obsession,’ this is the start of a lifelong romance!” Roman offendedly corrected him.
“Sure it is,” Logan monotonically responded as he averted his gaze up to the ceiling. He then looked back at Roman. “Anyway, I thought I’d inform you that your shift’s over now.”
“Wait, really?” Roman glanced at the clock, seeing that it was indeed 4 PM, the end of his shift. “Oh! It is!”
“Yes,” Logan adjusted his glasses. “Glad you got that door then, huh?”
“I sure am.” Roman chuckled. “Huh.. Logan, the sealer of fate, and the ultimate wingman.”
Logan raised his eyebrows. “Apparently.”
“Well, I guess I’ll get going now,” Roman untied his apron and pulled it off his neck, strolling over to the apron hangers. He pulled his phone and car keys out of his apron pocket and hung his apron on the rack. He stuffed his phone into his denim jeans pocket.
“Goodbye Logan!”
“Farewell,” Logan waved.
“Thanks for getting me a date,” Roman smiled.
“Don’t mention it,” Logan lowered his hand. “See you tomorrow.”
“Yep!” Roman called out, parading backwards out of the kitchen doorway and turning around to cheerfully promenade out of the store, turning on “Livin’ On A Prayer” from his drive home playlist and letting the contagiously poppy beats fill his ears.
Wow. He just got a date from a day at work, and yet he’s still just listening to his tunes and making his usual commute home.
I always read through the reblogs and replies on my stories right when I get them and you are all so nice and supportive of my writing it’s—
The TL;DR of this is, thank you all so incredibly much!!
Thanks to the rebloggers, likers, repliers, and tag-gushers alike, and to those of you who read my stories and enjoy them for yourselves!! I appreciate you guys too
I know I haven’t replied to really any of your appreciation (yet!!) but know that I really do appreciate all of your feedback & comments <33
& Thanks to my loyal troop of followers who decided my writing is good enough to stick around for, I promise I won’t disappoint <33
Remus wants to ask Deceit out on a date, and he attempts to do exactly that in quite possibly the dumbest way ever. Logan and Virgil are there too.
Warnings: Multiple food mentions, multiple death mentions (but just as humor, no one actually dies), cannibalism mention, censored cursing, inappropriate remarks, Remus being Remus, minor anxiety/panic depictions
Word Count: 4,720
Genre: RomCom
Pairings: Demus/Dukeceit + Platonic Analogical
I hope y’all like my first comedy-centric fic!! Enjoy :>
-
Virgil scoffed. “You do realize this is a terrible plan, right?”
Remus started to pace.
“Quite so,” Logan added, “Why can’t you just court him yourself?”
“Because, uh… I don’t know! I don’t know if he likes me or not and this just seems like a better solution!”
“First of all, me and L aren’t even together,” Virgil leaned his head back onto the couch, staring up at the ceiling.
“And even if we were,” Logan started.
“–Theoretically.”
“–Yes, theoretically romantic partners, I wouldn’t surmise that either of us would be content with going to a clamorous production for our first outing.”
“It’d give me too much social anxiety and Lo just isn’t the type for loud metal music. And ‘Cobra’ would totally get suspicious about it! He may be a clueless moron, but he’s not a fool.”
“Hey, only I can use Cobra for his nickname! It’s mine,” Remus pouted, hurling his hands towards the ground.
“Virgil’s correct, though. So why is this a better solution again?” Logan raised an eyebrow.
“Listen, could you guys just do this one favor for me?” Remus threw his hands up. “It’ll work great. He loves spying out and being all sneaky and cute and stuff. Virgil is his nemesis and Logan, you’re my nemesis, so it’ll be a great spying session together! It’ll be perfect! It’ll be like we’re not even on a date at all. Casual.”
Virgil and Logan still weren’t convinced.
“You guys still owe me for the bottle of Hidden Valley ranch I chugged last week that you bet I couldn’t chug,” Remus aimed an accusatory pointer finger at Logan and Virgil.
“We never bet that,” Logan pointed out. “You just wanted to guzzle ranch dressing like you would a glass of water after a temperate summer day, and we watched you do it, in front of us. It was deplorable.”
“I still have chills from seeing that,” Virgil shivered. “Ugh..”
Remus defeatedly sighed. “Okay, okay, I get it. You guys are right. But please? I really want to go out with him but I have no idea how he feels about me and I’m too scared he’ll say no. Could you just please do this for me?”
“Wait, let me get this right, let me make sure I’ve got this one-hundred percent down,” Virgil lifted his hand. “So you want me and Logan to go on a concert ‘date’ to see bands we don’t know and don’t care about when we aren’t even together just so you can convince Deceit to come spy on us with you so you can nonchalantly go on a casual date with him and then… what, go out with him?”
A pause. “Yes.”
Logan immediately replied “No.”
“Please! I’ll pay for the tickets. And the concessions. And the band shirts too! It’ll be fun! Please???”
The two started to consider it, albeit reluctantly.
“And I’ll never drink another bottle of ranch ever again.”
“You got a deal,” Virgil nodded.
Remus lit up with a beaming smile, shaking his arms and squealing, almost bouncing right off the carpet.
Virgil leaned over to Logan. “It’s weird to see him excited like this. It’s like he’s Patton or something.”
“Agreed. Him being expressive in wholesome emotions is as common an occurrence as aerodynamic swine.”
“Thank you so so so much!” Remus cheered, running over to the couch and lifting up both Logan and Virgil in a ginormous bear hug. Swol.
“Yep– sure thing, can you please put us down now?” Virgil choked out.
“Oh. Right.” Remus dropped the two of them back onto the couch.
“So this shall be occurring Friday evening?” Logan confirmed, fixing his glasses that were askew from the landing.
“According to the schedule, yeah! I’ll bring over the tickets by tomorrow. Thank youuuu~!”
“You’re, reluctantly, welcome,” Logan nodded.
“I’ll take it!” Remus shouted as he immediately sunk down into his room.
okay, so, fair warning: this does involve sympathetic deceit, platonic anxceit, and a fair amount of cartoon violence (nothing serious, i promise)
it takes place after deceit has a redemption arc, reveals his name (he will be referred to as dolos in this fic), and generally joins the light sides (although he’s still a chaotic neutral little shit because i love him like that)
imma stick it under the cut mostly bc 1: some ppl don’t like deceit in any iteration which is valid and 2: if i know me it’s gonna be fucking long
Summary: “The Sides all run an arcade together, each using their talents to keep it up”
Word Count: 3,872
Warnings: One very very brief mention of blood, knives, and injury, but no one gets hurt whatsoever
Genre: Fluff
Pairings: Platonic/romantic prinxiety, logicality, dukeceit, & basically all the sides are besties
Notes: This fic is based on this amazing prompt I found from @sanderssides-prompts! Kudos to the anon who submitted it!!
Enjoy! :)
—
Coinscore Arcade And Laser Tag was the best arcade Gainesville, Florida could offer. And its owners Logan Middleton, Patton Heath, Roman and Remus Weston, Virgil Holmes, and Dee Webber couldn’t help but agree.
Often shortened to simply “Coinscore” for the convenience of begging kids and tired-out parents, the place had it all. Long windows in the front of the building beamed glimmering moonlight into the neon, darkly colored interior filled with music-pumping, color-flashing, ticket-spitting arcade machines.
In the front left of the building sat the prize table run by Logan and Patton, occasionally by Dee as well, with a wall hanging up packaged neon signs, inflatable aliens, plastic swords, and labels with way overpriced ticket amounts. It, of course, also had a glass shelf-table combo filled with erasers, alien-finger-toys, and parachute army men.
Right then, a couple of kids, maybe 7 or 8 or so, stood at the table, standing on their tippy-toes to set their tickets down and see how many they won.
Logan, with his tree-like lankiness, crumpled up as he crouched to grab the scale from under the table and pulled out a comically sized calculator that would only be practical in an impractical place like Coinscore.
He set the tickets into a bucket, placed it upon the scale, and quickly started to type some numbers into the calculator, all the while the kids bounced up and down and were deciding which color of alien they wanted.
Logan then looked up (or, well, down in his case) from his calculator and at the awaiting children. “Your total comes to 991 tickets.”
The kids then deflated at the admission, looking at the giant alien hung up on the wall that stared at them in otherworldly longing with its 1,000 ticket label.
One little boy ran over to his mom sitting in a chair talking with other moms and sniffly told her the tragedy. She stood, grabbing her purse, and walked over to the table.
Logan tensed. It always got serious when the mom came over.
It was at that moment Patton Heath himself walked out from the supply closet carrying two cardboard boxes stacked atop each other, his shimmering brown skin glinting in the same shade as the boxes.
“Hey Lo, my bestest friend, the platonic love of my life,” Patton smiled wide.
“Hi, Patton. I’m stuck in quite the predicament right now,” Logan answered, nodding over to the sad children and the confused but somewhat uptight mother standing on the other side of the shelf.
“Ohhhh. Not enough tickets?” Patton whispered, setting down the boxes he carried and trodding over.
Logan nodded.
Patton stood at the table and looked down at the kids. “What prize did you guys want?”
The kids sadly pointed to the giant aliens mounted on the wall in all of their extraterrestrial and airy glory.
He looked at the ticket label then back to Logan, whispering, “How much are they off?”
“One-thousand minus nine-ninety-one is nine, so they’re nine off.”
Patton turned to Logan and gave a small pout, not unlike the children’s pouts ahead of him. “It’s nine tickets off, Lo. Can’t we just give it to them?”
Logan thought for a moment, pressing his cold, long fingers onto his chin.
Patton leaned over and whispered, “Hey, hey, I get it. But I read your salary spreadsheet for the week and I can tell we’ll be fine giving away a prize for only nine tickets less. And they might tell their friends about their prize and how they got it at Coinscore and we might make even more than a breakeven amount!” Patton beamed pridefully.
Logan had a surprised look on his face. “I suppose you’re right.”
Patton turned back to the kids. “Would you guys like the red, green, or purple alien?”
“Purple!” the kids cheered, smiles coming back to their faces.
Patton unhooked a purple alien toy from the wall, detached its ticket label, and handed it to the starry-eyed kids. “Here you go! Don’t worry about the nine tickets, this little buddy’s all yours.”
The kids squealed in excitement and the mom grinned in relief. She clutched her handbag and smiled at Logan and Patton. “Thank you very much. Christian, Daria, Jacob, what do you say to the nice men?”
“Thank you!” the three children echoed as they walked with the mom out the door, smiling and squealing about their alien friend who was just as big as them.
“I didn’t know you read my salary reports, Patton,” Logan turned to start unpacking the boxes.
“I like to be a little smart sometimes,” Patton smiled, grabbing Logan’s hand and giving it a quick squeeze. “Like a certain smartie pants I know.”
Logan’s pale face bloomed with rose-pink tones, and he shook his head, a small smile across his lips.
As they got to work unpacking boxes, inside the arcade was where the real fun and drama happened.
Inside, there were all kinds of games monitored by Roman and occasionally Virgil: whack-a-mole, helicopter shooting games where players step inside a shiny plastic interior to play, ball toss, spinning wheels, hard-hitting hammer-swinging games, even an electronic Fruit Ninja game, and the classic skeeball.
And at one of the three skeeball stations stood an angered, growling 9-year-old, who chucked another ball forward into the glass cage and landed into the zero zone again.
She let out an aggravated yell before tossing her long brown hair over her shoulders, crossing her arms.
Roman, who stood at a pirate-themed wheel game and was encoring two little boys who won eight-hundred tickets, saw this outburst and, like the modern knight he was, pranced over to the distressed darling.
“Hello! You’re playing skeeball?” Roman greeted, crouching down to the girl’s height.
“Yeh, but I suck at it,” she pouted, “Hmph.”
“Here, do you want me to show you my trick on how to win? I like skeeball too,” Roman offered, and the girl reluctantly handed her one of her last two neon orange skeeballs.
Roman turned to face the glass chamber of point holes. “What I always do is focus on the wrist.” Roman bent his right hand backward, aiming it towards the skeeball ramp as he turned his eyes back to the pouting girl. “I like to think of my hand like a broken excavator, those construction cars with the big arm in front that pick up big lumps of dirt. My hand goes up super fast and flings the ball forward, just like a broken excavator would fling dirt up in the air and make dirt go everywhere!”
The girl, despite just having been mad, perked up a bit as she laughed and stepped back to watch Roman play.
Roman stood up to full height, a modest 5’5”, and stepped his left leg back and his right leg forward as he turned to face the ramp.
As he described, his hand became a broken excavator as he shot his wrist up, causing the ball to barrel forward on the ramp and land right into the sweet 1,000 point spot.
The girl smiled widely and clapped for Roman, giggling.
Roman turned and bowed sillily. “Thank you, thank you. I’m honored. Now you try,” Roman took the other skeeball from the game’s compartment and handed it to her. “Remember, broken excavator.”
The girl nodded, determined, and positioned herself like Roman had earlier with her left leg forward and right leg back (since she was left-handed), and bent her wrist back before flinging it forward and tossing the ball up the ramp and into the cool 500-point spot.
Roman smiled, clapping his hands excitedly. “What an excellent toss! Ten out of ten.”
“Thank you,” the girl smiled shyly, twirling her pink tutu around her finger. She held out her tiny hand. “I’m Melanie.”
“Nice to meet you, Melanie,” Roman grinned, giving her hand a quick shake. “I’m Roman.”
“Cool name,” Melanie added.
“Thank you!” Roman beamed, before putting on a serious face. “Alright, play another round and show me what you’ve got!”
Melanie nodded, grinning and letting two tokens clink-clink-clink down into the machine as five more skeeballs plummeted into the machine compartment.
Now, although the games and prizes were cool on their own, the hands-down coolest part about Coinscore was that the back end of the arcade was devoted entirely to a laser tag arena.
Behind the two big flashy entrance doors, the debriefing room and the vesting room, the arena was themed like an abandoned, haunted town, thanks to Remus’s suggestion.
Ripped up buildings and large open windows, bus stops, holographs of floating books and chairs projected onto the walls, long ramps up to different structures, a large platform bridge in the middle of it all, and plenty of running space for excited kids filled the massive arena space.
Dee, Remus, and Virgil ran the laser tag rodeo and also did the cleaning of the arena when arcade days were slow.
Dee’s job was to read out the rules to the ecstatic players in the empty, glowing blue debriefing room and had the kids repeat and promise not to run or hurt anyone or jump or rules like that that basically fell under anything that could cause a lawsuit. (And Dee was just finishing up law school; he knew how much lawsuits sucked.)
Meanwhile, Remus and Virgil were the “laser masters” as the kids were told to call them 3 times in a row when something went wrong or their laser gun stopped working or they got lost or anything like that.
But laser-master-worthy incidents were rare, so Remus just had to stand guard during games and hang out with Dee while Virgil got plenty of time off to help out with any extra work going on, like birthday parties or, in some cases such as this one, helping to convince a fearful kid to play laser tag.
A lonely little boy, probably 9 or so, stood outside the laser tag doors, staring at the cracked wallpaper and the spooky neon green lighting, and he shivered, wrapping his arms around himself.
Virgil noticed this boy as he stood holding open the arena entrance and as the other boys he was with walked inside after trying tirelessly to convince him.
Virgil called out to the boy, “Are you coming in? I’m ‘bout to shut the doors.”
“I… I want to,” the boy said, still staring at the wall ahead of him. “But I’m scared.”
Virgil took in a breath. “C’mere, let me tell you something.”
The boy walked over to Virgil and stood, twiddling his fingers. Virgil crouched down on one knee.
“I know it looks scary from the outside, and you wouldn’t be wrong about that,” Virgil started, looking at the boy’s frightened face. “But believe me, it’s not scary on the inside. I promise. All it is is some broken buildings and bus stops. There’s no scary robots or scary ghosts or jumpscares. There’s no scary music or blood or knives or anything like that.”
“You’re sure?” the boy croaked out.
“One-hundred percent,” Virgil nodded as the multiple chains around his neck clinked against each other. “But if you don’t want to play this round, which is totally fine, you can watch up from the top and make sure it’s all good yourself. This round’ll be done in fifteen minutes and then the next one is the last round for tonight. You can play the last round if you deem the arena good for you.”
“I think I’ll do that,” the boy nodded quickly.
“Alright. You go up and check for me, and make sure none of your friends do anything silly, okay?”
The boy chuckled. “I’ll try, but they’re very silly.”
“I’d bet,” Virgil grinned, standing back up.
“Thank you sir,” the boy smiled.
“No prob,” Virgil waved, shutting the door behind him but before that seeing the boy speedily running up the ramp to the spectator station.
Dee and Remus were leading the kids into the dark vesting room as Virgil approached in his black work apron over his P!ATD hoodie and black jeans, making him entirely camouflaged in the blacklight except for his neon purple hair that practically made him a beacon of purple light.
“Where were you?” Remus asked, retying the ponytail that held back his lion’s mane of hair.
“Helping a kid out,” Virgil answered back.
“Well, good thing you’re here now,” Dee commented, “I think these kids are especially insolent this time, so we might need another ‘laser master’ for the tots that didn’t hear the rule about having to hold onto the blaster to shoot.”
“You got it, Jekyll,” Virgil pointed a finger gun at Dee before walking into the vesting room, Jekyll being a nickname solicited by Dee’s vertigo that split his face into halves like the halved aspects of Jekyll and Hyde, and also by Dee’s absolute dorkery in all that was musical theater.
As the round was about to start and as Dee made the kids once again promise not to do anything that would hurt themselves, Remus and Virgil congregated into the half-emptied vesting room with glowing vest-holding-pillars and a few leftover vests with blasters attached.
Dee then assigned the colors and heard the groans of annoyed kids who didn’t get computer-assigned on the same teams as their friends.
The robotic voice announced above that the round was starting in ten seconds, and as the kids scrambled to find their spots, Dee turned back around to Remus and Virgil.
“I swear I’m up to here with these foolish wildebeests,” Dee sighed. “Our last few rounds were good but I think they’re just starting to get rambunctious and just want to see me mad.”
“I’m not blaming them,” Remus shrugged, leaning back against the wall with his wide pale shoulders and torso. “You’re pretty sexy when you’re mad.”
“Ugh,” Virgil shook his head, stuffing his hands into his hoodie pockets and wishing he could put on his headphones during work. “Leave me out of the friend-flirting, please.”
“No can do, dreamy darkstorm of doom!” Remus beamed, wrapping his arms around Virgil.
Virgil shook his head, grinning only because of the beaming Remus and the chuckling Dee beside him.
“Alright alright, let’s actually watch this match now and make sure no one gets hurt please?” Dee pulled up the arena cameras on the scoring screen in the corner of the room. Remus and Virgil crowded around him.
And from the spectator camera, Virgil could see the little boy he talked to earlier watching the round and his friends that waved and cheered to him as they played.
“Did you see what I did there, Sal?!” one boy exclaimed. “I got that kid and he didn’t even see it coming!”
Sal smiled at the comment, only then to start laughing once the boy’s vest beeped, showing that he got shot as he was talking.
“Who did that?! Michael, if that was you I’m gonna destroy you!” he fumed as he ran off. “Bye Sal!”
“Sal, huh?” Dee added. “Seems like a nice kid. Good job helping him, Vir.”
“I relate to him, y’know? Might as well try and help a little me or whatever.”
“Virrrrgilllllll has light in his soullllll!” Remus teased, poking Virgil’s cheek repeatedly. “I knew it I knew it I knew it!”
“Oh, get over it,” Virgil smirked as he playfully bopped Remus’s arm.
And once the round had come to an end (only needing assistance from Remus once because a kid did indeed forget the “hold onto the blaster to shoot” rule), Virgil saw Sal hurry out of the spectator floor to join his friends outside the door.
The kids returned their vests and quickly ran out the doors to see the TV-displayed leader-board. They crowded around Sal and told quickly and loudly of their adventures, to which Sal smiled and laughed.
And it was quite a delight for Dee, Virgil, and Remus, who were all standing by the door that Virgil held open once again for the last time that night, to see that Sal followed his friends in and that Sal smiled at Virgil with a big beaming grin.
Virgil shut the door behind them as the last round started and finished and as the kids flooded out from the doors to their parents so they could leave the arcade, smiling and laughing all the way. Virgil waved goodbye to Sal, who graciously thanked him again for the help before walking out with the other kids and their parents.
Remus locked arms with Virgil and Dee as the three headed out of the arena and over to the prize table, where Logan and Patton waved goodbye to a few more kids who stayed late to play more games and where Roman leaned against the snack bar shelf and gave some high-fives to kids as they walked out.
“Bye Melanie! You’re a skeeball champion,” Roman cheered as a little brown-haired girl and her father walked out of the doors, both waving goodbye to Roman.
Remus approached Roman, letting go of Dee and Virgil’s arms, and chuckled, readjusting his ponytail for approximately the twentieth time that day. “Made another new friend, huh?”
“I did,” Roman turned to Remus and grinned. “One more than you’ve ever made, intro-dirt.”
“Oooh! Right where it hurts,” Remus cried, putting his hand over his heart before hooking Roman into his arm and ruffling up Roman’s hair.
Patton turned from the prize shelf and walked over. “Melanie, was it? Such a cute-looking kid.”
“Oh, but you won’t believe this! Virgil made a friend today, too,” Remus beamed, letting go of Roman and turning to Virgil.
“Really? I’m shocked that your void of a heart had enough room for that,” Roman teased, before quickly adding, “Just kidding. Who was it?”
“Name was Sal,” Virgil commented, his left contact-purple eye and his right green eye darting down to his shoes. “Nice kid. About eight years old?” he glanced off to the side.
“Awww!” Patton squealed.
“Sal was afraid of the laser tag arena, but Vir convinced him it wasn’t so bad and Sal went in for the last round with all his friends,” Dee added, stuffing his hands into his black apron’s pockets after he swiped away a loose strand of hair that fell out of his yellow beanie littered with Broadway buttons.
“How charismatic of you!” Roman smiled, “What a kind and fair lad,” he trilled, stepping down onto his knee and grabbing onto Virgil’s hand for a tiny hand-kiss.
Virgil rolled his eyes. “How about you save the prince kiss until after you’ve had a breath mint?”
Roman scoffed, standing back up and dusting off the bottom of his apron while Remus and Dee both simultaneously ooooh’d at the roast.
Just then the joking atmosphere was quelled as Logan’s clacking strides from his derbies coming towards them filled the air. “Okay jokers, we’ve got a bit more work to do before we can officially wrap up for the night. There’s some boxes to be carried and a bit of cleaning to do.”
Logan cleared his throat. “Right. Which one of you is strongest, again?” he asked, directed to the two Westons, who simultaneously pointed to themselves respectively.
“Go see,” he said. “There’s four boxes behind the table.”
Roman and Remus shoved past each other to get over to the boxes, and soon enough they were both fighting to grab more boxes than the other.
Logan opened the prize booth’s gate and walked out to Dee and Virgil with Patton following behind him.
“Smart, L. Using their competitiveness to get more work done,” Virgil commented.
“Oh, well, I try,” Logan replied.
“Nothing is stronger than a sibling’s need to outdo their brothers and sisters,” Dee recited poetically, holding a nonexistent skull up in his hand like he was the new Shakespeare.
Patton laughed and clapped, and both Logan and Virgil stifled a chuckle.
“Hey, Dee, speaking of that,” Virgil added with Dee turning towards him.
“I saw you reading out rules today, and your theatrics are pretty cool,” Virgil complimented, lightly shoving Dee with his elbow. “I swear, the kids always listen to you say all the rules when you do your voices and acting. They just start snoring whenever Ree and I try.”
Dee grinned smugly, shoving Virgil back. “Gee-muh-netti. I’m flattered,” he blushed as he tipped an imaginary hat from his head.
“Hey nerd, where do you want the boxes?!” Roman yelled from in front of the storage closet, carrying all four boxes with Remus swiping at them to grab them back.
“Back of the storage closet!” Logan yelled back. “And don’t drop them, please!”
Remus opened the door for Roman politely before slamming it shut behind both of them and probably trying to grab the boxes back again.
Logan sighed, holding the bridge of his nose in his fingers. “That’s all the lifting work. Everyone else, cleaning duty. We had a crowded day today.”
And so the four got to work wiping down and unplugging all of the machines, and once all the work was done all six owners met back up at the front of the arcade.
“I carried more boxes than Romie!” Remus cheered, smiling and puffing out his chest.
Roman pushed him to the side. “You liar! I carried all four at once.”
Patton stood between them and broke up the fight. “Guys, guys, you’re both strong, okay?”
Roman and Remus both stared at each other angrily for a moment before both of them absolutely melted at the compliment.
“Thank you so much!” “You really think that? You’re too sweet!”
“Alright, listen up everyone,” Logan started. “I’ve calculated our weekly earnings up, and it seems that we have enough to do a sort of ‘splurge’ for our late-dinner-early-breakfast tonight.”
“I call IHOP!” Patton beamed. “Pancakes, anyone?”
“Not a bad idea,” Virgil nodded, slipping out of his apron and tossing it onto the coathanger to the side of the entrance doors.
The other four unanimously agreed, and Logan nodded. “IHOP it is,” he announced, taking his car keys out of his back pocket and spinning them around his fingers. He opened the door for the other five who graciously thanked the ever-loving heck out of him.
As the six headed out, Roman’s arm over Virgil’s shoulder, Dee and Remus’s arms locked together, and Logan and Patton’s hands interlaced after Logan shut off the light switch, Remus interjected, “I have another idea for the arena, by the way! What if we add a totally wrecked bus to the middle of the space, like halfway stuck in the ground and open windows and a raised ramp so it’d be a cool hiding spot?”
“Not a bad idea,” Logan added. “We might have enough in the budget for something like that.”
“Or what about this! Pop-up ghost targets that appear at random times for extra points!”
“Cool.” “Good idea!” “Not too bad bro, coming from that one braincell up in your head.” “Sounds good.” “That could work,” the others agreed.
The six friends loaded up into Logan’s RV and drove off to dinner and a long night of rest after the busy day.
Coinscore really was the best arcade Gainesville, Florida could’ve ever asked for.
Summary: Roman’s ready to leave on a quest, but Virgil won’t let him leave so fast without being sure Ro is prepared and will be safe out there. Aw.
Word Count: 2,644
Warnings: multiple death mentions (but no one dies it’s only humorous mentions), food mention
Genre: Fluff!!!
Pairings: Prinxiety
Enjoy!! :)
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“Well Virgil, I’m off on my quest now!” Roman yelled, standing in the middle of the living room, a red and gold duffle bag slung over his shoulder and his black sword sheath clipped onto his belt.
“What?! Already?!” Virgil’s gaze zipped to Roman as he toppled over from the top of the couch, nearly splitting open his head doing so, and rushed over. “Do you have everything?”
“I checked, like, twelve times already, Mom!”
“I’m more like your overprotective older brother if anything,” Virgil scoffed.
“I have everything, though. Protein bars, canned food, water bottles, my phone, portable chargers, blanket, sleeping bag, emergency fire starters--” Roman saw Virgil’s glowering face and pouted. “And the brass knuckles.”
“Good,” Virgil crossed his arms. “Wouldn’t want you to break your sword and die out there.”
“My sword is strong and I despise brass knuckles, thank you very little,” Roman huffed. “My perfectly manicured weapon won’t break after a little can opening.”
“Let’s hope not.”
“It won’t!” Roman reassured. “Really. I promise.”
“You sure you’re up to this?”
“Yes, I very much am. Remus has been wrecking up my side of the mind palace for weeks now with gorgons and monsters alike. I might as well try and do a bit of spring cleaning.”
“More like spring slicing.”
“Spring slicing it is then. It’ll certainly be more exciting than whatever you all will be doing here to prepare for spring.”
“I dunno, flower planting? Wait, no-- Logan and Patton are both allergic. Vacuuming? Dusting?--”
Virgil was interrupted by Roman’s boisterous fake snoring noises. “Boringggg! I’m going on a quest. One-hundred percent.”
“Alright, just checking. Also, you forgot these.”
Virgil lifted up Roman’s red headphones, and Roman gasped in shock. “My headphones! Oh, I couldn’t have even gone five steps without these! Thank you so much!” Roman collapsed around Virgil in a rib-squeezing, bone-crunching hug, and Virgil just nodded in response.
“Okay then,” Roman let go of Virgil and dusted off his pants. “I suppose I shall be headed off now! Wish me luck,” Roman bowed.
“Yup. Don’t die.”
“I was expecting something more upon the lines of a farewell kiss, not a grim goodbye,” Roman stood back up, rolling his eyes.
“A kiss?” Virgil gawped, “Not over my dead body.”
“More like not over mine! If I fall unconscious in battle and I require a true love’s kiss to reawaken, you’re first on my list!” Roman started to sink down into the forming portal on the ground into his mindspace.
“Too bad, I don’t consent!” Virgil called down to Roman.
And then Roman blew a raspberry at Virgil before he sank down completely and the portal shut above him.
