#I like to imagine everything in his mindscape is hand-made as if it were a theater set or an arts and crafts project

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

The Royal Treatment

Hey, I have a prompt for my favorite writer:) I know you were thinking of taking a bit of a break from writing so many requests so no pressure I just had some inspiration I wanted to share. So, what about a sad twist to Virgil’s changing eyeshadow color? Black often represents evil and sin but it also represents life, immortality, and stability. Meanwhile purple often represents royalty, whimsy, and transition but also penitence, mourning, and artificiality. Black is made of every color and purple from just two. Anyway as anxiety I don’t think Virgil would voluntarily change. – anon

Hey if you feel up to it I have a very sad hurt/comfort request! Purple is the color of royalty right? But roman isn’t purple, Virgil is or at least is becoming purple. Maybe roman can’t carry the crown after all of the stuff that happened and Virgil was forced to take it. Or plot twist, Virgil was the real ‘king’ of the mindscape all along, cause everyone is born with fight or flight but not an imagination. Roman and Virgil are the only ones who know about the situation, and don’t trust the others due to *insert more angst*. Basically they end up comforting each other even as they fall apart. All while continuing to play their roles as if everything is fine. Anyway hope your part of the world isn’t burning to hell :P – anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: bruised ego--literal in Roman's case

Pairings: all gen

Word Count: 3304

Virgil sits himself up with a grunt, glancing around to make sure that everyone has stopped gawking over him, and makes eye contact with Roman.

That had been too close.

    "Hey, Virgil, your eyeshadow's a different color."

"Oh, yeah?"

"Yeah." Patton leans over, peering at him. "It looks really purple and sparkly. It looks great, kiddo!"

"Uh, thanks."

"I do like the color," Logan agrees, looking up from his notebook. "What made you decide to change it?"

"It's not, uh, it's not something I consciously change." Virgil shifts on the couch. "It's related to, y'know…"

"Ah, it's Trait-based, I see. Well, in that case, I am glad to hear that you are experiencing less Anxiety."

"Thanks, L."

"Oh, kiddo!" Virgil has only a few moments to brace before Patton launches himself over the coffee table to hug him. "I'm so happy!"

"Easy, Pat, you're gonna knock me over."

"Oh. Sorry."

"It's fine, it's fine, just—you're not a boa constrictor, ease up a bit."

"What's all this about Patton stealing my thunder?"

"Not your thunder, Janus, but rather your snake-like—oh, it was a saying, yes, I see."

Janus rolls his eyes fondly and props two of his hands on his hips, examining the Patton-Virgil pile on the couch. "Might I be enlightened as to why we're tackling Virgil onto the couch?"

"'We are not doing anything, bud, so you can—"

"Look at Virgil's eyeshadow!"

Virgil winces as Janus takes the opportunity to loom so close to his face that it's a wonder he can see anything at all. He screws up his expression and leans as far back as the couch—and Patton—will permit as Janus hums.

"It really is pretty," he says softly, a far cry from the sarcastic tone from earlier, "it looks good, sweetie."

"…thanks."

Seemingly satisfied, Janus pulls away and goes to sit next to Logan, talking about something. Patton gives him one last exuberant squeeze before he too leaves, going back to reading his book on the other half of the couch. Virgil sits himself up with a grunt, glancing around to make sure that everyone has stopped gawking over him, and makes eye contact with Roman.

That had been too close.

***

There's a knock on Virgil's door.

"Come in?"

Roman opens it, glancing over his shoulder and shutting it tightly behind him, fiddling with his hands. Virgil sighs, sitting up, and beckoning him over.

"Hey, Princey."

"Hey." Roman nods jerkily to the spot next to Virgil. "Can I—?"

"Yeah. C'mere."

"Thanks." The bed dips and creaks as Roman sits down, Virgil watching him as he wrestles with the words on his tongue. "I…I didn't know they would notice so quickly."

"Neither did I. But it's my fault, I got careless. You shouldn't be blaming yourself for it." He rests a hand on Roman's shoulder. "I'll just make sure to check before I leave my room going forward."

Roman nods, his gaze still aimed at the floor. Virgil sighs.

"That's not all, is there?"

"I—I don't know how much longer this is going to work," Roman confesses in a whisper, "I just—what if they find out? Then what are we going to do?"

"They're not going to find out, Princey. Not at this point. Hey, listen, listen," he says quickly when Roman opens his mouth to protest, holding up a hand, "at this point, like you said, our roles are pretty well cemented, yeah? You're Creativity, I'm Anxiety. Even if they figure out that you're not the one with the most control of the Imagination and everything, they're not gonna suspect me. They're gonna look at you, and they're gonna look at Remus."

"It is a miracle that Janus hasn't figured it out already," Roman hisses, looking toward the door as if speaking the words would be enough to summon him, "if we keep going—you know we've been looking more into the characters than ever before, if we have to lie more explicitly—"

"Then we'll deal with it."

"He can't find out," Roman stresses, "they can't find out. You know they can't, we have to—"

"I know, Roman. This was mainly my idea in the first place, remember? I know what happens when they get too close to the Imagination's center, I know the risk of letting Janus of all people find something out."

Something dark flickers across his expression and Roman covers the hand on his shoulder with his. "I…I don't regret you coming to stay with us more permanently, even if the way you got here was…"

"Less than ideal, yeah." He shakes off the memory and refocuses. "Look, I know you're nervous. It's going to be okay. Really, I should be thanking you for taking all the heat from this."

Roman shakes his head. "That's just it, though, Virgil, I know I'm supposed to be keeping you safe, and I'll do it for as long as I can, but I—they're starving me, I can't remember the last time they actually had positive feedback, and if I—if I get weaker, I don't—I don't know that I'll be able to hold out."

"They're assholes sometimes, Princey, no bones about it. But you're stronger than you think, and—hey, don't look at me like that. You are. You are," he repeats, softer this time when Roman makes a noise of disbelief, "you have no idea how strong you are."

"I don't feel like it."

"I know, buddy, I know. Hey, look at me—" he reaches out and cups Roman's face in his hands, stroking his cheeks lightly with his thumbs, "hey. You know I think you're the shit, right? You're fucking incredible. Your ability to come up with ideas even out of nothing is unmatched and your work ethic is ungodly."

Roman chuckles, hands coming up to clutch at Virgil's. "Thanks."

"Hey, you look a bit better already."

"Yeah, well…"

"Aww," he teases, ruffling Roman's hair as he blushes, "you're so cute, Princey."

"Hey!" Roman shoves him halfheartedly, only for the blush to get stronger as Virgil coos. "Hey!"

"Alright, alright, I'll stop." He gives Roman a moment to gather himself, leaning forward when the worry begins to show on his face again. "Hey, it's gonna be okay, alright, Princey? Even if this all goes to shit, I've got you."

"I know." Roman looks up at him. "You always do."

***

Unluckily for them, someone does end up figuring it out.

Luckily, though, that someone turns out to be Remus, who explodes into Virgil's room in a mess of green slime and tentacles and tackles him to the floor with a snarl.

"Remus, get off—!"

"What the fuck is wrong with you," Remus growls, Morningstar shoved under Virgil's chin, "what the fuck is wrong with you, you think this is some kind of game?"

"I have no idea—" Virgil coughs— "what you're talking about, let me up—"

"You think my brother is a toy?"

"What?"

"You thought Janny using him as a little puppet was funny? Decide to get in on the action? Or," and Remus drives the spike against his chest, "are you the one who gave him the idea in the first place?"

Oh. Oh, shit. "Remus—"

"No," Remus thunders, slamming him into the floor, "I don't want to hear your fucking excuses. Whatever hold you've got on Roman, you're going to let him go right the fuck now or you and I are gonna find out how corrosive Kraken digestive enzymes really are."

"I don't—I don't have a hold on Roman—listen," Virgil says, reaching up to shove the Morningstar away when Remus growls, "let me summon him and you can ask him."

"What, so you can give him cues on what to say like a good little prince? I don't fucking think so."

"Remus, I—alright," he growls when Remus tries to slam him again, "that's enough."

Remus yells in surprise when Virgil suddenly flips them, pinning the hand on the Morningstar to the floor, his weight heavily on Remus's hips to keep him still, and his free hand held fast against the floor.

"I am not using Roman as a puppet," he says in a low voice, "and you do not have a monopoly on caring about him. Now, are you going to behave and listen?"

Remus glares up at him but lets the Morningstar go. It clatters to the floor and disappears. "Fine. But I swear—"

"You'll feed me to Oliver if you don't like what I have to say, yeah, yeah, you're very scary, I know." Virgil gives him a look. "Are you gonna attack me again if I let you go?"

"…no."

"Good." Virgil sits up, letting Remus do the same, ignoring the murderous words mumbled under his breath as he runs a hand through his hair. "You can start by explaining why you tackled me to the floor."

"You're a lying liar who lies about things and you're lucky it was me who found out and not Janus."

"Lying about what?"

"You," Remus hisses, hands clenching as if on the Morningstar, "and Roman, everything. You're the one who has the most control over the Imagination and you've been letting everyone else beat Roman up for that shit for years. And you've been the worst!"

"Okay, first off, that's an exaggeration—"

"It fucking is not."

"—and second," Virgil continues, giving Remus a warning look, "most of the things that he receives critiques on are his ideas. You two still have control over the Mindscape and the Imagination, you're still Creativity."

"So fucking what, you're the big man in charge and Roman's your little worker toy? Huh?"

"Roman does his job and I do mine."

"That's fucking bullshit," Remus barks, but he doesn't move to fight him again, "you hurt Roman all the fucking time, you're telling me that's just 'doing your job?' You trying to maintain your cover or are you just taking every little excuse you can to remind him who's really in charge?"

"I'm getting real tired of these accusations that I'm hurting Roman, Remus."

"Yeah, well, I'm getting tired of holding my sobbing and beaten brother when he can't fall asleep because he's in too much pain, but yeah, poor you."

Virgil frowns. "What?"

"Oh, don't fucking pretend you don't know."

"I don't know, Remus, I—hey," he says when Remus growls louder, "I don't know what you're talking about. I've never laid a hand on Roman, and neither have any of the others as far as I know, so if you can explain it to me—"

"You don't need to!"

"What do you mean, 'I don't need to?'"

"You don't need to lay a hand on him to hurt him," Remus says through clenched teeth, "you and all the other fuckers have been doing just fine hurling all your fucking insults at him."

"What are you talking about—"

"Roman's the fucking ego, you prick," Remus interrupts, "and you assholes keep bruising him!"

Virgil stops. His eyes widen. His mouth drops open. Remus sneers victoriously as he slumps against the desk. "Roman's—where is Roman right now?"

"Why the fuck would I tell you?"

"Please, Remus."

Remus glares at him for a moment before tucking his knees to his chest. "He's in his room."

"Can I—can we— can we go see him?"

"If you think I'm letting you near him right now—"

"Remus, as hard as this might be for you to believe, I do actually care about Roman. A lot. Please. Let me see him."

Remus eyes him warily for a good twenty seconds before he finally mutters something under his breath. "Fine. But if you think that means I'm going to apologize to you, you'll be waiting a long time."

"Sure."

Remus stalks over and grabs his shoulder much harder than necessary to sink them out.

They appear in Roman's room and Virgil immediately looks around, spotting Roman sitting on the edge of the bed. Remus drops his hand away from him like it burns to touch him and rushes to his side, helping him hold something to his ribs.

"Hey, that was fast, where did you…"

Roman trails off as he looks over his shoulder, spotting Virgil for the first time.

"Virgil? What are you doing here, is something wrong? Did something—"

He winces, breath catching as he turns, and the bandage falls away from his side.

Virgil stares at the giant bruise that covers half of Roman's ribs in horrible purplish, reddish agony. He feels sick.

"Princey," he says quietly, "what…what is that?"

Roman looks down, seemingly realizing that he's uncovered it, and holds his hand over it again. "It's nothing."

"That's not nothing, Roman, what the fuck happened to you?"

Roman mumbles something as Remus's glare resumes and Virgil takes a step closer, stopping when Remus hisses at him.

"Roman, let me help, what is that from?"

"…the meeting."

"The meeting?"

"Yeah. You were there."

"I know I was there, Princey, that's why I'm confused, no one touched you, what could…"

You don't need to lay a hand on him to hurt him, Remus had said, Roman's the fucking ego.

Oh.

Oh.

Oh, no.

"Oh, buddy," Virgil murmurs as the truth behind Remus's insults hits him square in the chest, "how long has this been going on?"

"Uh—define 'this.'"

"This," Virgil says, risking another step closer, "you, getting wounded and hurt from the things people say, from the things I've said, from the things I don't mean. How long?"

"Um…"

Fuck. Fuck. Virgil's hand tangles in his hair and he closes his eyes, taking a deep breath. Remus was right, he can't blame him for being so angry, not when he thought he was doing this to Roman on purpose.

"Princey, why didn't you tell me?"

"It doesn't matter."

"Like fuck it doesn't—"

"Of course it matters, Princey, you're hurting—"

"No," Roman corrects with a grunt, pushing Remus away, "it doesn't. This is what I'm supposed to do, an ego bruises, that's how it works, and I'm supposed to be taking all the hits anyway, it's my responsibility."

"Oh, yeah? And what's his, then, making sure you get all the heat for the stuff he's really in control of?"

Virgil winces as Roman's eyes widen, staring at Remus with a dawning horror. "You—you know—"

"Yeah, I fucking figured it out, so you—whoa, whoa," he says quickly, reaching out and bundling Roman to his chest when Roman starts to panic, "hey, hey, calm down, Roro, it's okay, I didn't tell anyone else."

"You can't—you can't tell them, you can't—"

"I won't, Roro, I promise, hey, you gotta calm down, you're putting more stress on those ribs."

"Remus is right, buddy," Virgil says softly when Roman won't settle, "hey, shh, calm down, Princey, just let him hold you."

"V-Virgil—"

"I'm right here," Virgil says, glancing at Remus and letting out a sigh of relief when Remus lets him come over, "hey, I'm right here, okay? We're both right here, we've got you. You're okay."

How did this happen? How did I let this happen? How long has he been hurting like this? Why didn't he tell me?

Roman eventually lets out a shaky exhale into Remus's shoulder, slumping down into his brother's hold. Virgil cards a hand through his hair, petting against the grain, and he shudders, a wounded noise escaping his throat.

"Can I tell Remus what's going on?"

"Mhm."

"Alright." He glances over. "You and Roman have control over the surface of the Imagination. That's most of the stuff that can be made in there, the ideas for Thomas, all of that. But the deeper parts of the Imagination, the more…primordial parts, those…those are mine."

"They're tied to things like fear and stuff," Roman mumbles, "more primal. We don't have jurisdiction down there, only Virgil does."

Remus frowns, tightening his grip on Roman. "But then why…why do you only get all the insults and stuff? And why can't we tell anyone that?"

Virgil scoffs. "You think they'd react well to learning that fear is at the root of Thomas's Creativity? It's not just fear, it's any strong emotional instinct, but do you really want Patton, Logan, and Janus down there messing about?"

Remus shudders.

"Exactly."

"But they're hurting Roman. You're hurting Roman."

"I didn't know about this. I swear, I didn't." Virgil's hand pauses. "Princey…why didn't you tell me I was hurting you? I would've stopped."

"They can't find out," Roman mumbles, still half hidden in the crook of Remus's neck, "and you…I don't want anyone else to have to go through this. It was bad enough when we made you duck out—"

"You didn't make me do anything. We…we've always had that kind of relationship," Virgil says softly, "we tease and we throw stuff back and forth but we don't mean it. I never mean it, any of it, you—you gotta know that."

Roman's quiet for a little too long and Virgil bites back a curse.

"Princey, I don't mean it. I don't mean any of it. You're so good, buddy, you're amazing and the others don't give you enough credit for it."

"I'm mean to you too."

"But I know you don't really mean it, and I don't get bruised every time someone says something."

"You gotta be better about it, then," Remus mutters, still cuddling Roman protectively, "because they do mean it and if you keep doing it, they're gonna think it's okay."

"I will. I'll stop, I promise. But you gotta stop hiding when you're hurt, buddy, you gotta let me help."

"…okay."

"Yeah?"

"I'm still gonna go to Remus first."

"As long as you go to someone, I don't care who. But will you tell me if I'm the one that hurts you?" Roman nods and Virgil lets out a sigh. "Thank you, Princey."

"Now go to sleep," Remus orders, "you're all floppy."

"Stay?"

"Yeah, I'll stay." Remus glances up. "Is Tall, Dark, and Stormy staying too?"

"I can stay if you want."

"Yeah."

"Okay, buddy, I'll stay." He resumes petting Roman's hair as he slowly drifts off to sleep, waiting until he's sure Roman's out before lowering his voice to a whisper. "How did you figure it out, Remus?"

"Roro let it slip when he was in a lot of pain a while ago. Don't worry, it's not like he's gonna let himself be vulnerable enough around the others to do the same. I just got lucky." He glances up. "And don't worry. I won't tell them."

"Thanks."

"But I meant it. I will feed you to Oliver if you're hurting him."

Virgil chuckles. "I know you will."

General Taglist: @frxgprince@potereregina@gattonero17@iamhereforthegayshit@thefingergunsgirl@awkwardandanxiousfander@creative-lampd-liberties@djpurple3@winterswrandomness@sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes@iminyourfandom@bullet-tothefeels@full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind@demoniccheese83@pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious@firefinch-ember@fandomssaremysoul@im-an-anxious-wreck@crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch@enby-ralsei@unicornssunflowersandstuff@wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv  @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams@averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb @cricketanne @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws@cecil-but-gayer@i-am-overly-complicated@annytheseal@alias290@tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance@whyiask@crows-ace @emilythezeldafan@frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires@cyanide-violence@oonagh2@xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx@rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734@triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo@cerulean-watermelon@puffed-up-bees@meltheromanstan@joyrose-fandomer@insanitori@mavenmush@justablah65@10paradox10@uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous@cutebisexualmess@bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti@ultrageekygirl

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #roman sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #virgil sanders #fic

[sanderssidesthehouse]

Logan is feeling a bit rejected and dejected, but he finds company in a similarly discouraged side. Rated T for Remus.

Patton was sweet. Virgil was sour. Janus was salty. Roman was umami. Remus was oleogustus. And Logan. Logan found that he was bitter. Bitter was most well known to animals as the taste of yuck don't eat that or you'll die. Animals are naturally inclined to prefer sweet and salt. Umami and oleogustus were a big part of many cultures, though they weren't for everyone. Many folks enjoy sour. But bitter. No one likes bitter. Only the rare fool with no inkling of self preservation. That's the way Logan saw it. Unfortunately, or fortunately, there was one such fool.

"Logie! Lolo! Where are you hiding?!" Remus burst into the common area. "I'm right here, Remus." Logan responded from the couch. "Ah! Look what I made!"

Logan looked up from the book he was reading. Remus had a small, round, likely amphibian creature in his hands which was being thrust very close to Logan’s face. Once he was able to focus on what was in front of him, he found it was actually kind of-

"Skreeeeeeeeee!!!" The creature let out an ear splitting screech. "It's rather loud." "That's what I was going for! Since you told me about how the vibrations work in bigger and smaller instruments I wanted to see how high pitched I could get a creature to be." Despite himself Logan smiled fondly with a slight blush. "I'm happy I could be of some service." "These get real big too. The adults have screams so low pitched you'll pee yourself." They heard footsteps come down the stairs. "What the hell was that?!" Virgil stopped to yell at them as soon as they were in view. "Joy was just saying hi to her new friend." "Ugh. What is that thing? Put it back where it came from, or better yet, put it through a blender. It would be less obnoxious that way." "Now, Virgil, that's not very nice. Why don't you go lay down and I'll get you some water," Patton implored, having come out of the kitchen when he heard yelling. "Yeah, ok." Virgil turned himself around and went back up to presumably his room. "He has a headache," Patton explained. "Maybe you two should go somewhere else." Logan, noticing the hurt Remus was desperately trying to cover, decided to speak up. "Why don't you take me to meet Joy's mom?" Remus lit up. "Ok!" He grabbed Logan's hand and all but dragged him to his side of the imagination. It had more monsters and dangerous creatures, but Logan still felt safer there than anywhere else. Remus's creations would never hurt him, unlike some of the other creatures around the mindscape. Maybe that was a bit harsh, though. They hadn't meant to after all, right? On their way Remus unsurprisingly got distracted. “Oh these are Joy's favorite here, try one.” “And I won’t die from this?” Logan took a fruit from Remus’s hand. “Joy didn’t.” “Right, well, ‘cheers to that’ I suppose… They’re… interesting.” Interesting being code for what did I just put in my mouth because it was not good. “I thought so- Oh! Do you feel that?” The ground and trees around them shook, just enough to be noticed. “Is that an earthquake?” “Nope! That’s Momma. Let’s go!” And go they did. Remus was correct in stating that the creatures got rather large, but he had neglected to mention that large meant a sphere as tall as a six story building. Joy did a happy roll and screeched. Remus snapped before Momma replied and placed earplugs in both of their ears. Their whole bodies and everything else around them trembled.

“Fascinating.” “What?!” “Nothing!” “What?!”

Logan just shook his head.

Remus set Joy down and they watched as she hopped closer to her mother. They seemed to greet each other with their cries. Remus tried to speak to Logan again, but that clearly wasn’t going to work, so he led Logan far enough away that while they could still hear his newest creations, they could also easily hear each other without getting a headache. Because if Logan got a headache, he would have to leave.

“So what do you think?!” “They are quite fascinating. Joy eats berries, but what does her mother eat?” “The giant wasps.” “The giant wasps?” Logan blinked. “Oh, yeah. Super venomous. They really needed a predator to keep their numbers down.” “Well one that grows to be that large is a good choice, I think. Due to its size and diet, it is likely to keep its own population in check through environmental stressors such as competing for food and how it spends its energy. I believe it would fill a niche similar to a whale in the ocean. The vibrations it creates are likely helpful for disabling prey, though I’m sure particularly determined giant wasps could get through to a still large but smaller specimen in a relationship similar to mongoose and cobras. Though I have to wonder what the young get out of eating berries. It doesn’t seem like it makes sense for the amount of energy they need to grow so big.” “Ah, I see what you mean. These berries aren’t normal berries!” Remus grinned at him in a way that made him think maybe he really shouldn’t have tried one. “They’re made of flesh!” “Huh.” Logan gagged a bit, eye twitching. “That’s very… interesting.” “You said.” “With as realistic as some of your creations are, I tend to forget that creativity need not be bound by the rules of Thomas’s world.” “Mm. I think the realistic stuff can be more fun, but meat berries are a classic for horror!”

A classic, huh? Logan was pretty sure that wasn’t exactly the case, but having things that normally weren’t made of flesh be made out of it did tend to be a somewhat common occurrence, usually to symbolize one thing or another, so maybe it was somewhat the case.

“But I think Thomas and the others might actually appreciate this one. Since it’s cute and all,” Remus admitted. “At the very least I appreciate it. Virgil probably would have thought it was funny if he didn’t have a headache.” “You don’t have to do that, Logan.” “Do what?” “Pretend like the others care about the things I make. I know they’d all prefer if I would just… disappear. Maybe not Janus, but I do tend to make things difficult for him.”

For Remus to actually be saying something, it must really be bothering him. While he did usually spout any and every thought that came into his head, he usually refused to show weakness. Not that wanting to be accepted or appreciated and feeling bad when you weren’t made you weak.

“Regardless of whether or not they want you to disappear, which I would argue they don’t, you can’t. You are essential to Thomas. We all are. Even if our contributions aren’t always appreciated.” “Our contributions?” “Ah, I misspoke. I meant your contributions, of course.” “Yeah, I’m not buying it. You can’t get out of your Freudian slip that easily.” “Freud was a hack.” “Gee, Logan, tell me how you really feel. But you should know by now I already know how you feel. They never pay attention to you, do they?” “Whether or not any of you do, is irrelevant. It is only important that Thomas heeds my advice.” “Any of us?” “Any of you.” “Logan, I am sorry about that.” “What?” “When I kept trying to shut you up. I was afraid that if you helped Thomas out of it too quickly, I wouldn’t make an impact. And I didn’t want to go back to being shoved away in a box like a kitten on the side of the road when it’s raining, doomed to death by starvation, illness, or a rogue Prius.” “Ah, um, ahem, well… Apology accepted. And for the record, I wouldn’t have allowed that to happen. It’s high time Thomas stop repressing parts of himself. It’s unhealthy.” “Of course… For Thomas…” The duke fell quiet and turned to face away from Logan. “That is how I felt then. Now that we’ve spent more time together…” Remus looked back, hopeful. “I have come to appreciate your company and enjoy the thought exercises you present me with. If I didn’t want you around I would hardly go out of my way to spend time with you.” “For the record, I enjoy spending time with you as well. And not because you’re the only one who will entertain my deranged ideas, though that helps. You make me want to be smart, too. And feel like I can. I could learn so much about real world accurate zombies or mutants or zombie mutants that tear your face clean off like a pet monkey, or I can learn how to create a creature that oozes acidic slime strong enough to melt bones!” “You could have done that before.” “But I didn’t think I could, and with creativity, that’s half the battle.” “Janus never encouraged you?” “Not like this. In his own way, sure, but not like this.” “I’m glad, then, that I could do this for you.” “You’re worth more than what you can do for others, you know.” “What? I don’t- I mean our literal functions are-” “What would you say to Virgil or Patton or Roman, hmm? That they are only as valuable as the services they can provide everyone else?” “Of course not, I… I see your point.” “You can if you want to.” “What?” “What?” … Probably an innuendo and he didn’t want to know. “Thank you for… comforting? Erm, correcting me.” “I can comfort you anytime, and if you wanted to comfort me, you could start by taking off your shirt.” “I’m not doing that.” “The tie can stay on! In fact-” “Not happening.” “Awww. Fine, but can you come help me with my ooze monster? I was serious about that.” “I’d be delighted to.”

#sanders sides #logan sanders #remus sanders #intrulogical #<- tagging as ship bc it can be read that way but it could also be read platonic #siding fic

[mimssides]

Three Glasses in A Room

Patton sees things through sky blue-tinted glasses. It's a sharper image than others would imagine. It's sharp enough to see the little freckles of warmth shining through Logan's seams. Warmth that isn't his. Will Patton be able to see through this or will the blue betray him?

Link to the story on AO3 | Masterpost | Taglist

Something had changed in the mindscape. The air had shifted, a tension, different from the one before, lay over them all.

Not that it was stronger. It had been so very tense for ages. No, it was that the quality of the tension had changed. A shift from desperation and frustration to resentment and – rage.

As Patton walked through the living room, he could smell it; the sweetness of concealed anger and the rich chocolate note of unspoken declarations of hate. He smiled weakly as Virgil walked past him. The side didn’t bother looking and Patton was somewhat relieved in his disappointment. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to fool Virgil into believing everything was just dandy with him.

Probably Virgil wouldn’t have cared to begin with. Which was not a train of thought that would be helpful to follow through, Patton reminded himself and took a deep breath. He had other things to do and would do them. Yes, today he had a goal in mind and headed to the kitchen.

His eyes went to the spot where Janus and Logan had stood the evening after the latest date with Nico. He remembered how Logan had told him that he could handle himself. Which was true. Logan had always been capable of defending himself if needed.

But there had been something that didn’t quite fit. He turned to prepare coffee. Logan might have asked him to leave, so he could deal with Janus himself. That wasn’t unusual. He wanted to have some privacy during conversations he felt unsure about. Also, not unusual for him.

He got out his white mug and took the light grey one out, with the Leo constellation. The little stars on it were labelled, Regulus the biggest since it was the brightest, and the grey would turn a dark blue when hot liquid was put inside. Casually, Patton pulled out the sugar from the top shelf and put a smile on as certain steps entered the kitchen.

“Heya ki- Logan!” Patton greeted his fellow side.

Logan bowed his head with a polite “Salutations.” His eyes drifted to the two coffee cups.

“I made enough for us both. Would you like a cup?” Patton asked as he took the coffee jug out of the station.

“That would be satisfactory.”

Patton filled Logan’s and then his own cup. He put the sugar and milk on the table and sat down. Carefully he watched Logan and patted on the table when he didn’t follow. Logan met his gaze and followed his request. He sat down with his cup.

There was intent in that gesture. There was always intent in Logan’s gestures. There was always a goal in his mind. It just never was an agenda. It wasn’t to manipulate or get people to go his way. Logan was obvious and upfront with what he wanted. Well, not about what he emotionally wanted or required but otherwise it was clear what his actions were supposed to accomplish.

But in his eyes sparked a will to win when he talked to Janus. In his eyes sparked defiance as he sat down with him just now.

Logan didn’t have an agenda.

“Do you mind if I reminisce for a second?”

The side tilted his head to the side and nodded. He moved his free hand in a reassuring gesture.

“This cup-” he pointed at the one in the other side’s right hand - “-was a gift about five Christmases ago. I gave it to you because you’re our brightest little star. You rolled your eyes at it, but you liked the pun.”

“Debateable.”

Patton laughed a little and looked at the mug.

“You don’t use it very often. I wondered why,” Patton said and tapped his fingers on the table, “Remember what you told me?”

The side furrowed his brows, and he looked down at the mug. He drew his hand away from it, looked at it and eventually: “Washing it too often would damage the print of it.”

“That’s all?”

The side’s eyes went from the cup back up to Patton. His mouth fell open for a millisecond before he closed it.

“I did like the pun?”

Patton’s face fell a little. But he was right. At least once he was right. Very gently he reached over the table and taped the hand of the other side.

“Logan did like the pun after a little bit. After I showed him the true glow.”

The side’s hand never pulled back from Patton. The gaze was a little unsteady. Suddenly it focused. He looked up to Patton, the voice slightly changed but not quite away yet.

“They are glow in the dark stars.”

Patton smiled.

“Mhm. You figured that out quickly.”

The calculated expression, the stoic tension in the jaw, they fell and were taken over by barely concealed rage and defiance. Somehow that felt more reassuring than the silent treatment Virgil and Roman had graced him with the past weeks.

“Is he save?”

He began to growl. Quick as the wind, Patton reached over the table taking both of his hands and shook his head. Here was not the place to make a scene.

“He’s with you willingly. I see that. I don’t need reassurance that you did this according to his wishes. I just -”

Patton looked to the door. He pulled his hands back and gulped.

He’s scared for Lo. He’s straight-up scared that what they’ve done has damaged him permanently.

Wide-eyes Patton stared at the side. First, the side seemed confused then he heard in his head: That’s not supposed to hap-

The side shook his head and pressed his hands against his head. The connection had broken, and their heads were theirs again. The side took a sip of coffee and glared at the floor before he focused back on Patton. Patton was hugging himself and eyed him warily.

“Do you want to check on him?”

A pause.

“Would he let me?”

The side understood. He looked to the right and sniffed his nose with an angry grunt. He closed his eyes and listened. He got his answer and turned back to Patton.

“He’d like you to be there if you respect his right to throw you out again as soon as he wishes. And if you won’t, I’ll make sure you will.”

There was a treacherously big amount of hope in Patton’s eyes at that threat.

“No need for that Anger. I’ll cooperate. I’ll do anything if I – if he’d like to give me the chance to just spend a little time with him.”

Anger eyed him thoroughly through the mask of Logan’s face. What must he have said, must he have done to gain such trust, Patton mused and followed as Anger stood. The act of impersonating him and taking Logan’s place couldn’t have any good connotations for him. That he let Anger do it spoke for itself. Or for how bad of a job Patton and the others had done to care for their fellow side.

They were going down the hallway, almost at the spot where one could cross over to the dark side of the mindscape. Patton stopped as Anger did and listened with him. No one was close by. Anger did the next step. Patton followed. The light changed somewhat, the décor got darker, and some spiderwebs made Patton’s heart beat faster.

But all in all, it wasn’t scarier than any thriller Virgil watched on a rough night. Still, he was grateful when Anger reached for his hand without looking and pulled him along. He had also dropped his disguise and was now wearing his own face again. He was a similar height as Patton was, Patton realised and looked at the orange hoodie. It looked rougher than Virgil’s. Heavier. He also wore a white T-shirt and grey gym shorts. And fluffy pink slippers with white socks?

How had Anger more of a dad outfit than him? Any further thought along the line died when he saw the doorway to the living room. Within he saw a similar layout to their own living room, but more importantly so, was the side sitting on the couch. In a dark grey shirt (a horror motive with several bite holes in the sleeves telling Patton exactly who this actually belonged to) and a pair of navy shorts with little white stars, Logan met his gaze.

It didn’t seem like those were the same eyes from before. Patton’s heart sunk but his expression softened. Logan’s hair was messed up from sleep, far greasier than he usually would let it become. The glasses were smudged, and his hands were slung around a plush ice bear.

Intently but without fear Patton stopped and waved gently at him. Logan’s eyes stayed warily on him but his shoulders relaxed as Patton forced his heart to beat slower and take the heat off of things. It would result in heartburn later, but for this, it was worth it.

“Heya kiddo.”

“Salutations Patton. I see you have uncovered Anger’s disguise.”

Patton nodded and looked at Anger. The side had walked between the two of them, arms crossed before his chest and a glare glued on Patton.

“Yeah, I did. I… Would you mind me asking a few questions? You don’t have to, I can leave or just sit and be here if you like. I’m already glad to know that you’re here and-“

“What are you doing? You didn’t come down here just to see me.”

Patton’s finger pads cooled. A tiny breeze twirled around him and then blew over to Logan, moving his hair gently. He motioned his hands to the other end of the couch. For a moment he just watched Logan for his answer. Eventually finding it. Softly Patton strode to the other end of the couch, sat, and looked at him.

“I think we’re both running on assumptions right now. May I make my intent clear, so you can decide to share yours or send me away?”

“That is acceptable.”

Patton bowed his head and folded his hands. He ignored Anger approaching Logan from the side and holding his shoulder protectively. He simply focused on the logical side and brought bitter mirth to his smile.

“I can see that you let Anger take your place. I’m- I’m ashamed to admit that I’m not exactly sure when you two swapped places, but I think that you were still present for the wedding. And I’m sorry for that. You- I don’t know if Anger told you, but I have apologized to you in a quiet moment for – for skipping you. I’m sorry that in my frenzy I believed that the only way to keep Thomas ‘morally righteous’ was to override logic. That was wrong of me.”

Patton paused. Logan’s face hadn’t changed. His hand on the couch had turned towards him and his ring finger twitched. Patton made a move to reach for it and halted. Logan came closer. So, Patton took his hand and continued as he squeezed it.

“I’m worried now,” Patton admitted and looked to his lap. “I know that there is more to your decision than I understand, but you go down here, so close to the subconscious, it seems dangerous and I would like to know what your plan is. And I would also like to know if you’re planning on telling us about this?”

Patton waited to look up again. He wasn’t sure if his angle had been right. He wasn’t sure if those were the words that would make Logan see what he was worried about. He wasn’t sure if he could stand Logan’s look if he was wrong again.

It was the light squeeze of his hand which made him look up in reflex. Logan’s eyes were unspeakably dark. Much darker than Thomas’ or those of any other side. Darker than the night sky, darker than shadows at noon, darker than the supply closet Thomas had been locked into for twenty minutes in sixth grade. And yet, Patton could see the tint of indigo in them and suddenly noticed the change in his expression. It was clearer, a bit more open than before and something in Logan’s eyes reminded him of his smile.

“Being here is as dangerous to me as it is to you. The subconscious has no use for me and my interest to be here had nothing to do with it in the slightest.”

Logan held his breath and looked at Anger. A conversation without words went on, then Logan’s eyes went back to Patton, and he pulled a bit closer to Morality.

“I have come to the realisation that I am rather overwhelmed with everything that has transpired before and after the wedding. I came here with a different intent but through their help,” - He pointed towards Anger and the hallway “I have found a different approach to hopefully better my situation. Anger has been a huge help and accommodated my needs and wishes dutifully. So far, our plan has been going well.”

Patton pressed his lips together. He could see that Logan was unwilling to give up details. Yet, he couldn’t be angry or disappointed in him. Now, after hearing Logan admit that he’d been overwhelmed he realised how much they had put him through. Tears began to well in the corner of his eyes and he turned his head away. Waveringly he pressed his hands over his nose and mouth and forced the sobs in his chest to stay down. He was far too good at doing that.

All was silent for a long time.

“I admit I feel conflicted about this.”

Patton’s voice was ringing through the room as if the walls were glass and ice.

“I’m glad you found someone to help you. I’m glad Anger is helping you and taking care of you. It does hurt that you had to go to someone else than us to find that relief though. We have- I have failed you. Correct?”

Logan mused for a moment. Then he reached over. Laid his arm around Patton’s back and pressed their sides together. He stared at the spot on the floor next to the one Patton was staring at.

“You did hurt me.”

Patton sniffled. He was about to press his hands over his mouth as Logan took them and squeezed them comfortingly. Tears rolled down Patton’s face. Icily they fell on his lap and Logan’s hand. Like shards, they pinged and wailed as they hit the ground. Yet the room was silent. The room stood still, unaffected by time and space and speed. Nothing happed.

“And I’ve hurt you too.”

Everything happened.

The room spun, light flickered, and the clocks began ringing. Anger looked at Morality’s red eyes, looking deep into his soul. Searching for the seed that had it all started, pulling at the threads that kept the mess from unravelling, poking at the sandbags which kept the water out of the city during a flood.

And Anger let him in anticipation of what he’d do next.

“You posed as him, but I still- I still was being inattentive to you in his form. I didn’t help you when Remus came to mess everything up. I- I should have tried to do something, to support you in a way that you needed. But I didn’t. And I never offered you help or a chance as yourself either. I neglected you because of my biases. I don’t know if I can ever make up for that. I’ll try. I’ll be open towards you when- if that is what you want me to do. And we’ll go from there if you let me.”

Anger was quiet for a moment. His expression was surprisingly hard to read and Patton wasn’t sure what that meant. He found himself feeling disappointed that he couldn’t understand the expression on Anger’s face. At how much he had removed this side from himself.

“Noted.”

Not the answer he hoped for. But probably better than he should have expected. He turned his attention back to Logan. He lifted his hand and stroked his cheek.

“Patton.”

Logan’s voice sounded something between annoyed and saddened.

“I know, I know.”

Patton lowered his hand and took a deep breath.

“I don’t appreciate that you essentially ran away from us. But I get it. I... I’m afraid it was a valuable solution to your situation. So, I’m not gonna say anything. I trust you know what you’re doing.”

“And if I don’t?"

A laugh. The eyes turned warm and trusting.

“Usually you do kiddo. And if you don’t, it won’t be a first.”

His voice sounded far more cheery than it ought to be. He stood and looked from Logan to Anger. Both could see the cogs in his head turning until they eventually halted and he settled on a much more solemn look. The smile though remained on his lips.

“I guess, I’ll see you when you’re ready?”

Logan nodded vaguely. Patton looked at Anger, who eyed him distantly. Patton settled for a light bow of his head and waved a last goodbye before he left.

___

Lucas let out a long breath. He hadn’t thought that Patton would be the one to figure him out first. Really, he had thought Virgil would be quicker but apparently, Anxiety was more hung up with Deceit than it was with Logic being off-kilter.

“Are you alright?”

Lucas huffed and plopped down next to Logan. He watched as he pulled off his glasses to clean the smudges with his shirt.

“How am I the priority here?”

“Oh, I expected them to find out eventually. I did wager that either Patton or Roman would see through it first. You, on the other hand, were unaware of my assumptions. And Patton was probably not the one you preferred to find out first, correct?”

For a long moment, Lucas just watched. There was this sharpness around Logan that he used to have back when they started filming. Something clean-cut and simple.

“You plan a lot more than you let on, huh?”

At this Logan smirked. It bore a bit of the charm from Janus, some of the cockiness from Virgil, but different. It was Logan’s confidence.

“I did. Well, I do. But I have improved considerably.”

“How so?”

Logan stood up and stretched. A sliver of his belly showed at the edge of his shirt. He found he didn’t mind and let his arms fall to the side. He turned and saw his reflection mirrored in Lucas’ glasses.

“Spending time with Impulsivity and Anger has taught me a thing or two about tactics.”

Lucas tilted his head in question.

Logan’s eyes glinted mischievously.

“Sometimes you just don’t need to give a figurative fuck. Sometimes, you just have to let them run into the wall they have built and let them tear it down themselves. So to speak.”

The words stuck along with Lucas. He couldn’t get to the bottom of them for a long time. He couldn’t understand, how Logan could be so relieved to see Patton again but at the same time was not willing to let him down gently.

Not when that evening Logan held Remus close to his chest as they watched a deep-sea documentary on the couch. Not when he gently revealed to Remus that Patton knew. That it was part of his plan for the others to figure it out themselves, and that it was probably for the best that Patton was the first to figure it out.

“Why’s the Dad Bitch our best option?

“Because his reaction to finding it out during a confrontation would be the most unpredictable. Roman lashes out verbally, which will be mean and uncalled for but essentially meaningless. He very rarely says things that he actually believes to be true in rage. Virgl’s anger might be more uncomfortable, but Roman, Patton and I have been able to shut him down if necessary. Patton’s bursts are far rarer, and they will hit on a much deeper level than the others. He figuring it out first is ideal. It is even better, as he has agreed to keep quiet about it, since he believes me to be capable enough to deal with this.”

Remus listened closely but didn’t bother to comment on it any further. Lucas heard Logan quietly whisper into Remus' neck during the rest of the night. He couldn’t quite decipher them but judging the tone it was meant to be encouragement. Whatever for Lucas didn’t understand.

___

“He’s never going to accept me.”

“He’ll have to.”

A sloppy wet kiss was placed on Logan’s nose. The logical side made a grossed-out noise and Remus snorted weakly.

“He won’t, little beetle”

“You don’t have all the facts.”

“Which are?”

“I love you.”

With how flatly Logan uttered the words, Remus couldn’t help himself but laugh out loud.

With a smirk Logan sat up on the bed. He watched the duke shake with laughter, pressed his hands against the sides of his chest and manoeuvred himself on top of Remus’ hips. His laughter was messy, unapologetic and loud.

It was also foremost so incredibly sincere.

“And to some extent,” he leaned down and kissed him gently on the still wiggling moustache, “he believes I make the right decisions.”

Logan needn’t say any more. Remus understood the implication. Understood that he was Logan’s good decision. But both of them knew that wasn’t really enough.

Patton needed to look at Remus and understand that he was worth more than what Logan thought of him. Then what he could do for Logan.

That Remus had the same potential to be “redeemed” as Deceit, Anxiety and Anger did. That sometimes not people needed to change but Patton needed to change his perspective to recognise that the person wasn’t bad to begin with.

And that sometimes “bad” things needed to be accepted too.

#eir writes #Dark Side Logan Saga #ts patton #ts logan #ts orange #ts remus #sanders sides fanfic #wirtten a while ago and never posted here #patton talks like this because he's an emotional chameleon and subconciously trys to mimic the people he's talking with #backtround intrulogical #sanders sides

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Dragon Heart

There are a few things that come with becoming a dark side, one of which takes Roman a little by surprise.

Fortunately, he has a fantastic boyfriend and a... maybe not quite as helpful brother to get him through it.

----

| Ao3 |

Warnings: Mild body horror, self doubt/self deprication, Remus being Remus, hurt/comfort.

Pairings: Romantic Roceit, familial Creativitwins

Word Count: 3993

Notes: This is a oneshot for my Darkside!Roman au, which you can find here with the tag #Darkside!Roman, if you so wish :)

Otherwise, happy reading!

----

"Help me!" Roman yelled as he rose up into the dark sides' mindscape, his burned pillow clutched tight in his hand.

"Woah Prissy! What happened to you! Finally embracing the arsonist lifestyle?" Remus called from across the room, accompanied with a giggle. Janus glanced up, noticing the pillow and making his way over. 

"What happened, Roman?" 

"I don't- I dont know I just- I was lying on my bed and then I sneezed and my pillow was on fire" Roman ranted, waving the pillow around as he spoke, "So I put it out obviously but I don't know what happened!" 

"Alright alright, calm down darling, absolutely everything is wrong," Janus soothed, taking the pillow from Roman's hands, "I don’t think I know what's happening,"

"What? What is it?" Roman asked, huffing only for a puff of smoke to come from his nose and startle him, Janus chuckled.

"Oh my goodness, you're adorable," Janus couldn't help but coo. Roman saw red.

"Don't call me ad-" Roman's voice cut off immediately and he let go of Janus' shirt, which he'd grabbed without even realising and stepped back, "I- I don't - I'm sorry I- I don't know what that was…" 

"It's not alright, sweetheart," Janus said with a small smile as he smoothed down his ruffled clothes, "Believe it or not, Remus and I both went through something similar, once,"

"Wha-" 

"It's growing pains! Ro-bro! You're really becoming one of us!* Remus cried, leaping over and punching Roman in the arm, for some reason Roman found himself having to control the instinct to attack his brother in a show of strength.

"What Remus means," Janus said, "Is that you're getting your creature trait," 

"My…' Roman paused for a moment, "What?" 

"Your beastie!" Remus giggled, sharp teeth on show, waving a summoned tentacle in the air, "I'm a kraken, if you didn't know," 

"Yeah, right, but-" 

"And, as I've so well hidden, I express snake like traits, though they are actually rather subtle compared to other dark sides," Janus said, "My 'beastie' as Remus put it, is a Naga," 

"But how does that relate to me?" Roman cried, clenching his fists, he was glad Janus had taken the pillow or he probably would have ripped it. "And why do I keep - doing stuff I don't want to do! These stupid - mood swings!" 

"You're getting your beastie, Ro-bro," Remus said with a grin.

"O-oh…" 

"The mood swings and weird instincts don't come from that transformation," Janus said, "But rest assured they'll remain this bad forever."

"Jan used to bite shit," Remus giggled, "like- if you put something in front of his face he'd just- *nom*! It was super funny, but I made him a bunch of those little chewy stim toys so he'd stop biting everything else," 

"Oh like you're much better," Janus rolled his eyes, "You spent two weeks at the bottom of a lake!!" 

"The webs were the worst though… y'know I usually like creepy crawly spiders cuz they pull webs outta their butts and scare people shitless but when I can't get into the imagination because of the mass of spiderwebs…." Remus shivered, "Never breaking a spider web again."

"Are you… talking about Virgil?" Roman asked with only the slightest caution, Remus nodded, "He… never did anything like that with the light sides," 

"The animal traits almost… fade away… when a dark side becomes a light side," Janus explained sadly, "So Virgil's more spider-esque traits faded away over time,"

"He still hissed though- and liked to climb high things," Roman said, before thinking, "Sounds more like a cat to me actually," 

Janus laughed, "You should have seen him when he was here… he had spider limbs and everything, made webs like you've never seen, and he'd attack anyone who touched them," 

*Now I see why Remus is scared," Roman snorts, before coughing up smoke, "God fucking damn this- eugh!"

"It's alright, Roman, you won't learn to control it, especially not after we work out what your creature is," Janus said, patting Roman's back until he recovered. 

"We won't be able to tell until the physical bits come in," Remus said, leaning on his shoulder, "Boy how Jan was surprised when he grew a second -"

"Oh Remus sweetheart isn't there a mess you should be making or- I don't know some poor light side for you to torment?" Janus interrupted, waving Remus away. Remus' eyes sparkled at the suggestion and he sank out. Roman couldn't help but laugh.

*So… I just have to deal with this?” Roman said, looking a little scared.

“Fortunately, yes… but rest assured you will be completely alone,” Janus patted Roman on the shoulder, we will not help you with anything you need,”

“Thanks, Jan,” 

—-

Roman was scared, of course he was scared, though admitting that he was scared was the scariest part.

He’d woken up that morning only a few days after their conversation to a throbbing pain in his head, which wasn’t a headache per say because it wasn’t in his head, more like on top of it, like someone had smacked him in the skull multiple times and left throbbing bruises all along his hairline. It hurt to all hell and left Roman wanting to do nothing more than curl up into his pillow and die a a quick and painless death.

Of course that wasn’t what he actually got, all he got was Janus coming into his room when he hadn’t appeared by midday and- once his boyfriend had realised something was hurting him- had immediately rushed to find some pain meds to give him for it. They hadn’t helped, not really, but Roman appreciated the sentiment. He’d especially appreciated it after Janus had offered to kiss him better and then spent the next ten minutes smothering him in affection.

The happiness hadn’t lasted long though.

Vaguely Roman was reminded of one time- his memories were a little hazy on the details- when some of Thomas’ extended family had hosted a reunion. His own family had made the unfortunate decision to stay over the night since the house where the party was held was much to far to drive after such a party. Roman remembered that Thomas had been kept up all night by one of his aunt’s screaming baby, the kid had been teething.

This particular memory was bought to the forefront of his mind at this very moment because Roman couldn’t help but sympathise with the child. Because here he was, curled up in the corner of his bathroom. He sobbed into a pillow in the hopes that it would muffle the noise as something grew right out of his head.

Janus had warned him about this, the physical traits of his… beastie… coming through. He’d been warned about how painful it could potentially be- Virgil had been bedridden for two days as his spider legs pushed their way out of his back, it had been horrendous, apparently. For some stupid reason- because Roman’s reasons always seemed to be stupid, that’s all he was, stupid reasons and stupid ideas- he hadn’t listened to Janus. He’d thought he could deal with it. Obviously he was wrong, he couldn’t deal with this whatever the hell was growing from his skull was just proving that to him.

It felt like he was growning new bones from his skull, for all he knew he was. There was absolutely no way he was getting up to check, he could barely move from the pain as it was. 

By the time the pain had died down even just a little Roman had cried himself out of tears for the time being, now he was just stuck with hiccups and sharp breaths that he was certain weren’t good for him but he couldn’t seem to get them under control. Every time he managed it there would be another throb and the whole process would start all over again. Not only that but the clock on his wall showed that it was 6:57am. He’d been here on the floor in his bathroom for over five hours. Fortunately the throbbing pain in his head made it easy to ignore the aches and pains in his limbs from sitting in the same position for way, way too long.

Tentatively Roman attempted to move, only to experience a shooting sensation of pins and needles- like his leg was being stabbed by a milion tiny little pins that had come just to make his already shit day- and mind you it was barely seven in the morning- a whole load worse. Especially, that is, when the surprise at the sensation caused him to jerk back and hit his- well he could only assume whatever had grown out of his head in the last five hours- against the bathtub and he had to clamp his hands over his mouth to keep from screaming.

It’s ok Roman, you’ve got this, just stand up and look in the mirror, it’s right there, not so hard.

Roman whimpered as he attempted to urge himself forwards with his thoughts, reaching up to grab hold of the rim of the sink and use it as leverage to help him up. This was so pathetic, he thought, needing all of this just because of a little pain. 

When he saw his reflection in the mirror he really did shriek. 

He had horns. Massive red horns that sprouted from just behind his hairline. Two shorter in the middle that pointed straight up, the colour fading from red to orange to yellow like fire.

And next to those smaller ones were larger horns, with the same gradient though these pulled back and down and around his ears so they curled around to point forward in line with his cheekbones. They would have looked majestic on anyone else. Any other dragon.

Because that’s what this was, these horns, it was unmistakable. Even if somehow he could try to convince himself that he was just a ram or- or some other animal with horns- he knew somehow in his heart that he was a dragon. 

And he hated it, he already hated it so much because dragons were evil beasts, evil, greedy, mean, horrible foes. Dragons were the ones that kept the princesses locked away, not the ones who saved them from their towers like the dashing prince he was supposed to be.

No, he wasn’t a dashing prince anymore, Roman thought, glaring at his teary reflection in the mirror. His eyes were rimmed red, cheeks stained with tears, the horns were there, plain and vivid on his head like a raging fire. Roman was the dragon now, the villain of the story, the one that killed the dashing knights who came for the princess, he was the one who hoarded treasures in a cave and threatened anyone who came near with fire and destruction. This just proved it, if his spirit was a dragon, then he was the villain. The one in the wrong. Everything he thought was true.

Roman watched in the mirror as his eyes filled up with tears once again, though this time they weren’t allowed to spill because there was a sharp knock on his bathroom door. Roman froze, staring wide eyed at the door behind him using the mirror. He didn’t make a sound, he couldn’t maybe whoever was there would just go away.

“Roman?” A carefully controlled voice called in. It was Janus, and his tone was soft and gentle and that alone made a tear slip down Roman’s cheek, “Roman are you alright in there? I heard- I heard you scream…”

Oh god, Janus had heard him. Roman whimpered, he couldn’t help it and he knew he was about to start sobbing again.

“Ja-” Roman tried, “Janus-”

“Roman!” Janus called, his voice sounding so relieved it sent a stab through his heart, “Can I come in?”

“Yes- you- yes you c-can-” Roman stammered out, he tried to hard to get his voice to smoothen out but it seemed to be in vain, the door clicked open and Roman couldn’t bring himself to turn, he could only watch in the mirror as Janus- still disheveled and in his pajamas from sleep- stepped into the room before stopping, eyes widening when he saw the state Roman was in.

“Oh sweetheart,” Janus breathed, and he sounded so worried, it almost made Roman flinch- it reminded him so much of Patton- hah, if only Patton would see him now, what would he say? Probably that Roman’s horns made him dishonerable, they were unprincelike.

“I…” Roman started, before trailing off, he really didn’t know what he was supposed to say. He could only turn slightly to see Janus who smiled sadly when they met eyes.

“You’re so… beautiful,” Janus breathed, stepping closer, before pausing and looking over Roman properly. Roman was certain Janus could see the evidence of the crying and- hell the guy had heard him scream, of course he was worried. And, well, Roman knew he didn’t really mean the compliment. 

“...My goodness Roman have you been up all night?” Janus said sadly, stepping forward and cupping Roman’s cheeks, Roman startled when he felt cool scales and skin instead of the familiar fabric instead of gloves, “It must’ve hurt so much… how are you feeling?”

“I- I-” Roman stuttered, glancing around but finding that the only thing he could focus on was Janus’ eyes, he suddenly felt such a strong possessive urge he almost physically moved, the strange urge to keep . Roman felt it so strongly that the only way he could find to deal with it was bursting into tears.

“Oh- oh, oh,” Janus mumbled nothing words, before taking his hands from Roman’s cheeks. He barely had the chance to whine before Janus opened his arms in and offering of a hug, “C’mere, yes that’s it, it’s alright,”

Roman practically collapsed into his arms and Janus pulled him tight. It was a little bit awkward, Roman couldn’t exactly bury his face in Janus’ shoulder like he wanted to because of the sharp points he now had to be careful of, so instead he hooked his chin over Janus’ shoulder. And Janus wrapped him up so tightly, four of his arms around Romans back- holding him close, another in his hair- stroking through the strands in a way that was incredibly gentle, almost too gentle, and his final hand found Roman’s and laced their fingers together. 

He rocked them gently where they stood, one of his hands rubbing reassuring circles onto his shoulders as Roman once again cried himself out of tears. He began to hiccup all over again and Janus didn't stop rocking them both. 

"Everything will be alright, sweetheart," Janus muttered, "Come, let's go somewhere more comfortable, alright?" 

Roman could only nod and let Janus lead him slowly back into his bedroom until they were both sitting down on his bed, he waited as the other side pulled one of his thickest blankets around his shoulders and took his hands.

“Alright,” Janus said quietly, rubbing circles onto the backs of Roman’s hands as he looked into his eyes, “You can nod or shake your head, or speak if you’d like to, but I’m going to ask you a few questions, alright?”

Roman nodded slowly, he didn’t trust himself not to start crying the moment he attempted to utter a word. 

“Do they still hurt?” Janus asked, Roman considered for a moment, before shaking his head as he realised almost all the pain he had felt had faded out. There wasn’t even any of that pinpricking pain left. Just the pain in his heart left, but he was pretty sure that wasn’t what Janus was asking about.

“Thats good, sweetheart,” Janus said, leaning forward to kiss his cheek, “And do you feel alright? Both mentally and physically,”

Roman wasn’t sure if he should tell Janus about everything he was thinking. On one hand, Janus had proved he would help before, when Roman first crossed over but also… he had almost been disappointed when Roman spoke badly about himself, and even though Roman now had proof that he was evil in the dragon horns on his head, he doubted Janus would be happy to hear that, so he shook his head.

Somehow, Janus seemed to know he wasn’t being truthful.

“Are you sure?” Roman nodded, but he was as certain as the sun rising in the east that Janus hadn’t believed him. He moved on anyway though, and Roman couldn’t help but be grateful for that. 

“Do you know what your- beastie- is?” Janus asked next, “I uh- me and Remus, when we first got ours, once the physical traits started coming on we could just sortof…. Get a sense of it? Do you feel that?”

This head shake was so frantic that Roman found it slightly difficult to stop, Janus raised an eyebrow. 

“...Why are you lying to me, Roman?” Janus asked softly, squeezing his hands, “You- you know I won’t judge you, for whatever it is, don’t you?”

Roman looked away, trying to blink away more tears, because somehow despite all he had cried by now he still had more in him.

“I’m… sorry,” Roman mumbled, “I just… you’ll be- you’ll be disappointed you were wrong…”

Now Janus looked slightly alarmed, raising his eyebrows in confusion, “What… do you mean, darling?”

“I just…” He paused, trying to find the right words, “Everything- everything you’ve tried to tell me about- about me being good- it’s- it’s not true…”

“Roman, I don’t understand,” Janus told him, “How is it not true? I thought we’d gotten past this…”

“We- we had but- this- this is-” Roman paused, pulling one of his hands out of Janus’ hold to wipe at his eyes before gesturing to his new horns, “Dragons are evil- and- and mean and horrible beasts and I- this just proves I- I’m- like- that too-”

“Oh, Roman…” Janus mumbled, a frown on his face, “Now I’ve never heard something so plainly false, and I’m the liar in this relationship,”

“Wh-what?”

“Roman, love, your beastie doesn’t fully represent you anyway, and even if it did, dragons aren’t all evil,” Janus told him, “Hell, do you think I represent fertility? Fuck no,”

Roman laughed, a meek, pathetic laugh, but it seemed to placate Janus just a little bit.

“But… Dragons are the enemies! The ones that have to be defeated to rescue the princess- or- or- the- the-”

“You know what, Roman,” Janus interrupted, tapping his hands to bring his attention back, “Will you wait here for a moment, there is something that I need to do,”

“Of- of course,” Roman nodded quickly, Janus pressed a quick kiss to his forehead before standing up and sinking out of the room after sending him a small smile.

—-

Janus was gone for just long enough that Roman was beginning to get worried that he wasn’t coming back. Maybe he had realised while he was gone that Roman really was evil, and he wasn’t worth the effort, so he was just going to leave him to deal with this on his own. And not to mention that now he felt that same tingly almost-pain he had felt in his head yesterday in his teeth now, he guessed that would be the next part of him to change. He was about to just accept that Janus wouldn’t be coming back when his door was kicked open.

“Hey Ro!” Remus yelled, running in and grabbing Roman’s wrists in a way that wasn’t gentle, but Roman could tell it was friendly, “Janny said you were feeling down ‘cuz of your beastie, so we’re having a movie day,”

“I- wait- but-” Roman tried to protest as Remus pulled him to stand up and began to drag him out of his room, Roman attempted to dig in his heels, “Do I get a say?”

“Nope!” Remus said, popping the ‘p’ as he grinned back at him over his shoulder, “You’re not allowed to be sad,”

“But- I’m-” Roman tried to protest, “Do you not even see what I am?”

“A big strong badass beastie for my big strong badass brother?” Remus said, blinking at him as if that was the most obvious thing ever, “I don’t see the problem!”

“But-”

“Oh shut it!” Remus said, turning around and slapping his cheeks, making Roman make an involuntary ‘pop’ sound with his mouth as his face was squashed, “You’re watching movies with us and you don’t get a choice, now sit down,”

“I- um- ok?” Roman said, gingerly sitting down in the middle of the sofa. Janus- with a soft, knowing smile on his face- sat down next to him and Remus through himself on top of them both and grabbed the remote, pressing play before any of them said anything. 

Roman knew even as the first few notes of the score played with the emerging dreamworks logo what they were watching and when he turned to Janus, he just smirked.

“What?” Janus said innocently.

“Why- why are we watching this?” Roman said slowly, as the film moved on to Hiccup describing Berk, showing scenes of dragons attacking the town.

“Because,” Janus smiled, “I believe you need to learn the same lesson as a certain Viking chief,”

“O-oh-” Roman choked, turning back to the screen. He didn’t want to admit that he was about to cry again as he watched Hiccup shoot down the nightfury, he knew this film, he’d watched it at least twenty times. Of course he had, it was an amazing piece of cinema and had the most spectacular music, but this…

“And afterwards we’ll be watching Raya and the Last Dragon,” Janus commented idly, “And then Eragon, and after that, if you still need convincing, we’ll be watching Mulan”

“Mushu is hardly a dragon,” Roman cried with a choked laugh, understanding the theme of their movie night, he also understood that he didn’t have a choice.

“He’s still a dragon!” Remus yelled, “And if you’re still being sulky after that we’re watching Shrek!”

“I- alright I- just so you know I um-” Roman said, before trailing off to watch as Hiccup cut Toothless free.

“What do we need to know, darling?” Janus said quietly, nudging his arm to catch his attention again. 

“The um- the tingly pain-” Roman said, “Like- like what I felt before these horns- um- appeared, it’s… back,”

“Where too! Ooh what’s next?” Remus asked with a gasp, leaning uncomfortably close to him, Roman attempted to laugh and gently pushed him away.

“My teeth,” Roman answered quietly. Remus gasped even more dramatically.

“All of them?” Janus asked.

“No I… don’t think so,” Roman said slowly, “Just some…”

“You’re getting fangs!” Remus yelled, way more excited about that than Roman could even think about being, “That makes all of us! We all get fangs,”

Janus smiled, before taking Roman’s hand, “It’ll be alright, but Roman?”

“Yes?” Roman asked, looking over at Janus, suddenly he was worried that he’d done something wrong.

“Next time you’re in pain, please tell one of us… don’t just hide in your bathroom all night, alright?” Janus said with half a smile, Roman went red and looked back at the screen.

“I’ll… I’ll try,”

“Good, now watch the film!” Remus said, shoving him, Roman shoved back and it very quickly turned into a shoving match on the couch before Janus looped his arms under Roman’s to wrap around his chest and effectively stop the playful fight in it’s tracks. 

“Now boys, no fighting on the couch, remember?” Janus scolded. Roman looked sheepish while Remus just grinned. 

“Aweee Janny! You love us really,”

“I hate you both very much, I just aboslutely love having a destroyed couch that I need to work out how to replace again after Roman set it on fire yesterday,”

“Hey! You know I couldn’t control that!”

“Of course, darling, but that doesn’t make replacing it any easier,”

“...That’s fair I suppose,”

#sanders sides #roman sanders #ts roman #roman sanders angst #darkside!roman #ts janus #janus sanders #remus sanders #roceit #creativitwins #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfic #famfiction #mild body horror #body horror tw

[the-third-heart]

1 had decided that maybe he needed to take a break from the computer and go touch some grass.

After all, he couldn't keep talking to Ron forever. As much as he wanted to. He still did need time to process things, after all.

After... three weeks.

Okay. That was no big deal. Ron's got issues, they both knew that... Okay, Ron knowing that was just a bit questionable. But 1 figured it out pretty easily. So he understood that he needed space.

So what better distraction then to make a giant cathedral?

Yes, he thought as he turned the doorknob. It would be giant, with towers bigger than the entire facility turned on its head, and stained glass windows more beautiful than everything in the Mindscape combined! And he could add instruments (he had always wanted to learn piano, but he only had one hand... ignoring the android body he had recently received against his will). And a ballroom, and-

Thud.

...Huh? 1 seems to have bumped into... something. In the middle of the main area. He quickly backed up, rubbing his casing in an attempt to get rid of the slight pain, his optic shut tightly. When he opened it, he expected to find some machine he forgot he made, or an abnormally large table, or even nothing at all. Perhaps it was all in his imagination... That tended to happen a lot.

He did not expect to see a door.

A soft pink door, with golden accents. It let off a slight yellow glow, and spread a bright pink pattern on the ground.

1 took a short glance. Then he blinked his optic a few times and looked again. And again. And again.

Yup. That was certainly a door. An actual, physical door. And the only people he knew who could create doors like that were...

...other phantoms.

No. No way. They were all... The mindscape was empty, except for he, Gray, and the maniac kid! How could that be possible? Was this some kind of prank? Had the kid built a random door that lead nowhere by hand? Had he made this a while ago and forgot about it? Or...

...or was there somebody else...?

That was impossible. Completely and utterly nonsensical! How could there be any phantoms left in the Mindscape? And yet, he found himself with some kind of hope. A nervous, chaotic hope that maybe, maybe, he wouldn't be alone here after all. And it yelled at him in increasing intensity to open that door, just to see if it was true.

So he did.

And he was met with... somewhere very unfamiliar.

It was dark. Very dark. That was his first takeaway. The only light seemed to come from random beams reddish-pink, and strange glowing liquid on the ground. There were also many flowers. Some average-sized, some ungodly huge.

This, clearly, was not comparable to anywhere in the normally sunset-dyed mindscape. And as he looked around in shock and confusion, his eye caught a familiar shade of blue.

The kid.

Oh.

Somehow, he wasn't surprised. Even though he had no idea she would be able to do regular phantom things in a mindscape that wasn't even her own. This fact was what freaked him out a bit.

By "freaked him out a bit", I mean "Horrified him down to his very soul that this probably very dangerous person could do whatever she wants in his mindscape".

-@suns3t-rul3r

She was finished with recreating it. The mindscape.

And her clothes, she was out of those. She preferred her old ones, and anyways, she'll be home soon, she'd like to look similar to how she did before.

Home...

Home.

Somehow, being in that replica wasn't helping with that feeling.

It just got worse, didn't it?

Creak...

Huh? The door, then it must be...

She turns around, and for sure, it's him, the other phantom.

#ask #suns3t-rul3r

[hedgeyart]

💘 Roman’s Conquest 🐉

As a lesbian I can respect people's desire to interpret the Dragon Witch as a sexy lady character, but I think it's much funnier to imagine them as a big lizard in a stupid hat. In this case a plush lizard, one you can slay before the cheering puppet masses. (close-ups under the cut)

[AU Masterlist]

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #roman sanders #dragon witch #psychic summer camp au #school stuff #psychonauts au #yes the trees are made of wooden planks. yes the leaves are just green streamers. #give Roman a break he had to imagine it all himself. He's an actor not a gardener. #I like to imagine everything in his mindscape is hand-made as if it were a theater set or an arts and crafts project #also that snazzy foliage was made using brushes from Obsidian Dawn #my art

[sleepless-in-starbucks]

I Want Us Both to Eat Well

Ao3

Summary: Remy might not be great with self-care, but they've got the 'taking care of Logan' thing down to a science. And Logan can work with that. Content: Overworking, mentions of poor eating/sleeping habits, caretaking, it’s pretty soft overall, nonbinary remy Pairing: Losleep

~

Despite what some may think, Logan didn’t have the most demanding of jobs within the mindscape. He wouldn’t call his work a walk in the park, of course, but when he was largely tasked with matters such as scheduling and memory allocation, versus such things as emotional processing or idea creation, Logan had no plans on complaining.

And Logan’s most complicated job? Even less complaints to be figuratively filled, given it was his favorite.

See, for a good while now, Logan had been dating Remy, a figment of the Imagination created by Roman for a one-time vine gag that somehow managed to get enough permanence for themself to function as their own being. For a bit, they had simply wandered about, teasingly flirting with not only the sides but Thomas himself. Something about Logan must have held their attention however, because soon enough he was the only side being ‘bothered’.

It didn’t take long for the feelings of ‘botherment’ to morph into amusement, which furthermore transformed into affection and soon even love. Remy had made a bad attempt at celestial flirting, and despite the inaccuracies, Logan had greatly appreciated the sentiment.

Appreciated it enough to allow “I love you” to escape both his thoughts and mouth, an acknowledgement that had left the two of them in similar states of shock for a whole ten seconds before Remy was in Logan’s lap and doing their damndest to kiss him breathless.

Remy only became more cemented in the inner workings of Thomas’s mind after that, likely a consequence specifically of how much time they were spending in Logan’s room. They were still a figment, but they were rapidly gaining actual responsibilities, things they had to do or else Thomas would directly suffer. Most were connected to sleeping- making sure the sides were rested, bullying Thomas to bed when needed, lining up memories as appropriate to be saved and stored during REM- but some were simply random, the misc assignments settling onto the not-a-side.

Usually, Remy could manage it all without much issue. They would complain heavily, sure, bemoaning the days when they were a free-spirit with nothing to do, almost sounding like Roman when they spoke of the cruelty of fate that such was the price of love, but as long as Logan was there to hum sympathetically and play with their hair, they were good.

Occasionally however… it was too much. Too many late nights and sleepless mornings convincing others to rest, too many memories to pick between and sort, too many tasks all piling up. Remy would get overwhelmed and end up overworked if no one stopped them in time.

Luckily for Remy… they had Logan.

Figuring out that Remy had hit their breaking point wasn’t the easiest thing in the world, the first step of Logan’s ‘job’ therefore being the most difficult. Remy, for all their bellyaching, didn’t want to be perceived as a slacker or irresponsible with their job. With sunglasses, coffee, and their devil-may-care attitude, they could normally fake being alright for a day or two past actually being alright.

But the facade always cracked in the end, and as soon as it did, Logan was there.

So, the second step, taken once Logan recognized those cracks: eat a good and filling breakfast. This step was especially important, and made the list to remind Logan that a coffee and crofters-covered bagel wouldn’t be sufficient.

Next, Logan went about assigning Remy’s usual tasks to the other sides. To Virgil and Patton, enforcing Thomas’s bedtime. To Janus, memory dealings. To Roman and Remus, whichever various misc tasks Remy had at the time. And top it all off with a lecture to the lot of them to sleep well.

(Logan always expected some resistance on this step, and was always surprised to find none. “If you say they need a break, they need a break.” Virgil said one time with a shrug. “We want to help where we can.”)

Then there came the final step: convincing Remy to take a break. To most, this would be the hardest step. Even when all their work was attended to, Remy would insist they had things to do, that they couldn’t just take a break, especially not one as long as Logan would suggest.

Logan wasn’t ‘most’.

Before Logan entered his room (or, more accurately, his and Remy’s room, the figment not having a place outside of the Imagination and therefore opting to move into Logan’s), he double checked that everything was ready.

Breakfast? Eaten.

Time? Well past noon.

Work? Distributed.

Tie? Loosened.

Shirt? Untucked.

“Hotel? Trivago.” (vocabulary cards!)

Logan let himself into his (now shared) room. Remy was sprawled across his (now shared) bed, flipping through their own notecards- the form memories took when viewed within the logical side’s room. Their sunglasses were set aside on Logan’s (now shared) desk, making it easy for Logan to spot the dark bags beneath their eyes.

They glanced up when Logan entered, cocking an eyebrow as they took in his appearance. “You’ve looked better, babe.” Remy commented lightly, though Logan could hear the concern in their voice. “You here to crash? I can move.”

Logan didn’t answer right away, instead walking over to stand in front of Remy. Before his partner could guess what he was doing, Logan had grabbed the memory cards they were sorting, easily willing them away.

Remy’s eyebrow only raised higher. “Alright, yeah, someone needs to take a nap.”

“And that someone would be you.” Logan replied. “Or, more appropriately, someone needs to take several days to rest.”

Remy chuckled. “You sure about that, sweetheart? I wouldn’t think you’d want me falling behind on work, especially for Thomas’s sake.”

“Your work is being handled, Thomas will be fine.” Logan assured, taking a moment to tenderly tuck some of Remy’s hair behind their ear. Remy’s expression softened at the gesture. “I have taken care of everything for you, save one thing.”

“Oh?” Remy prompted, looking vaguely amused by Logan’s approach. “And what’s that one thing, doll?”

With a smile, Logan settled himself in Remy’s lap, arms wrapping lightly around the back of their neck. “Myself.”

Remy’s brow furrowed at the answer, their concern returning full force. “Log-”

“I have not eaten since breakfast,” he neglected to mention it was a large enough breakfast the lack of lunch hadn’t truly affected him, “I am stressed,” he ignored that the stress was Remy-based, “and my appearance is unkempt;” he pretended this was not a very conscious choice, “therefore, I should be resting, and yet, I am not.”

“You do seem tired…” Remy murmured, one of their hands moving to rest steadily on Logan’s hip while the other gently cupped his cheek. Logan appreciated the moment as long as he could, lazily leaning into Remy’s touch while the overworked figment searched his face for more signs of exhaustion.

Then they squinted at him. “Wait. This isn’t some ploy of yours, is it? ‘Cause no offense hun, but this feels a bit too easy. Normally you go running when I try to stop you from working on bad days.”

“I admit I am usually more… difficult about such matters, but I assure you, my love, this is no ploy. That would imply only I benefit from this situation. I think we both would.”

“Oh? How so?”

Logan’s fingers traced random patterns on Remy’s upper back. “You prefer to see me in good health and enjoy taking care of me. I prefer to see you in good health and know that letting you take care of me will subsequently lead to you being taken care of as well.” He kissed Remy’s forehead. “We both benefit, for the sake of not only ourselves, but each other as well.”

Remy sighed, their attempt at annoyance falling rather flat, in Logan’s opinion. “I can tell you’ve planned this out, babe.” Their hand on Logan’s cheek slipped into his hair, lightly scratching at Logan’s scalp.

The logical side involuntarily let out a content hum at the motion, briefly letting his eyes close as he pressed closer against Remy, their hand now supporting more of his head than Logan was. “Mhm, the plan of self-care? I think it’s a good plan.” Logan partially opened his eyes to catch Remy’s gaze. It was fond and sweet, Remy having clearly been swayed by tired Logan. “Do you think it’s a good plan?”

“Yeah.” Remy agreed softly, Logan grinning as he realized he had ‘won’ (really, they had both won, seeing how desperately Remy needed rest, but for the intents and purposes of this particular situation… Logan had won). “It was a great plan, angel.”

Logan allowed his head to be transferred onto Remy’s shoulder, happily nestling it into the crook of their neck. He could feel as Remy shifted their position, clearly going to lay Logan down on the bed. However, the bed alone would not be enough, Logan locking his arms behind Remy’s neck when they tried to let him go.

“Oh, come on, sugar, I can’t- I need both my hands- oh, alright, fine, if you’re gonna be like that, I’ll make it work.”

It took a couple minutes longer than it might have if Logan had allowed Remy to let go of him, but soon enough Logan was being deposited in a proper pile of blankets and pillows, all packed in together and arranged in the corner of the bed that lined up against the corner of the wall. He released Remy this time, comfortably sinking into the heap.

“I’m happy you’ve deemed this arrangement of your bed more acceptable than the one you yourself made, sweetheart.” Remy teased even as they worked on tucking the pile closer around him. “I’m going to grab lunch now, alright? Don’t go anywhere.”

It was an unnecessary request, given that Logan’s master plan of self-care wouldn’t benefit from him making Remy hunt him down, but the familiarity of it made Logan snort. The blanket-pillow lump had a one hundred percent success-rate with dissuading Logan from escape, no matter the circumstance, but Remy’s consistency in reminding Logan to stay put was endearing every time.

Remy returned within a few minutes, carrying a plate filled with ham and cheese cubes and some bunches of purple grapes. They placed it on part of the bed not overtaken by the plush pile before carefully climbing over it, cautious to not make a mess as they joined Logan. They slid into place behind him with practiced ease, shifting Logan to be more in their lap and against their chest before tucking the blankets back in around them both.

Logan leaned back against Remy as they settled, resting his head at a tilted angle so that he could keep his eyes on Remy. Noticing this, Remy smiled softly, pressing a kiss to Logan’s forehead.

“Alright babe who hasn’t eaten since breakfast, time to eat.” Remy said, tugging the plate closer to them before picking up one of the cubes and offering it to Logan. He let Remy pop it in his mouth, swallowing it while Remy grabbed another morsel of food. The motions were easy and repetitive, and soon enough nearly half the plate was gone.

Breaking the skin on a grape, Logan caught Remy’s wrist as they went to offer him a ham cube. Remy raised an eyebrow. “Darlin’?”

“You need to eat too.” Logan explained, nudging Remy’s hand towards their own face. “I know how you get when you’re busy.”

“Well now you’re not even being subtle.” Remy teased even as they accepted their redirected ham cube. Alternating between themself and Logan, Remy returned to their work of emptying the plate, quickly finishing off what remained of it.

When there was nothing left on the dish, Remy gracelessly pushed it off the bed, Logan well aware they’d pick it up later but still rolling his eyes at the laziness in the gesture.

“Shh, I can hear you thinking, love.” Remy trailed a few kisses down the side of Logan’s face, their arms wrapping snugly around his waist. “It’s my mess, I’ll clean it up later. Don’t worry about it.”

“You could take care of it now though.” Logan argued weakly, already once-more melting into Remy’s hold.

Remy chuckled, peppering more kisses across his chin. “Then I’d have to let go of you, my lovely Lo, and I don’t think that’s happening anytime soon.”

“Mmm, fair point.”

“Plus,” Remy went on as they began to slide into a more horizontal position, laying Logan down with them and briefly releasing his waist so as to move his glasses from his face to the bedside table, “it’s naptime. Someone needs their rest.”

“You.”

“Which one of us is taking care of the other again? You’re the tired one.”

Logan laughed quietly at Remy’s rebuttal, rolling over and nuzzling his face into Remy’s neck. He wasn’t sure when the lights in the room had turned off, but he was fairly certain it had been Remy’s doing. “Fine. I am very tired. So tired I have completely forgotten what to do now. Remind me how to sleep.”

“Dramatic-ass.” Remy’s tone was too soft to match their words. They pressed their cheek against Logan’s hair, their breath as they spoke close enough for Logan to feel its warmth. “You’ve just gotta close your eyes and stop thinking about anything that isn’t your wonderful partner and their wonderful fluffy pile of comfort and relaxation.”

“Sounds easy enough.” Logan dropped a kiss on Remy’s collarbone. “I could do this for days and days and-”

“Shhhh, starlight. Rest.” Remy slowly ran a hand up-and-down Logan’s back, successfully distracting him from his poorly-veiled (but loving) jab at Remy. “Bully me later.”

Logan didn’t respond verbally, opting instead to hum in contentment and snuggle up closer to Remy. There was no way they’d be able to slip out of bed without Logan noticing- not that they’d try, not now, but Logan appreciated the assurance of proximity. Despite not truly being tired, Remy’s warmth and Logan’s relief at knowing they would finally be resting themself were enough to make his eyelids heavy, the idea of sleeping peacefully with his partner too tempting to pass up.

So, yes, Logan did have some difficult duties to attend to, the caretaking of Remy the most complicated of them all. But drifting off happily in Remy’s arms, Logan remained firm in his stance that it was his favorite duty.

#losleep #ts logan #ts remy #ts sleep #fanfiction #fanfic #ts fanfic #sanders sides #nb!remy #i hope y'all like this but 's okay if not bc it is- per the usual- v self indulgent sldjfmvksdl #i think it came out good tho

[rainbowbutterfrosting]

Okay, but ‘Erase Me’ hits different after the newest episode (lyrics in bold, discussion/analysis in normal text)

What was our home

“Home” it’s an odd word for the sides. Especially with the recent episodes. With tension flowing between all of them with ease, it’s hard to question if they can truly find comfort in on another. Easily represented by none of the sides (other than Logan and Remus) being there throughout Thomas’ day. This isn’t like the other episodes where they’re all having a discussion together about Thomas getting overwhelmed. 

Instead, Thomas feels isolated for most of it, fighting a battle with his mind (mind referring to his intrusive thoughts, his sides, and Logan’s agenda for the day)

Paper not stone

Everything seemed to... change so quickly. They went from Embarrassing Phases with cute Halloween costumes and friendly jokes about cringe and vine directly into SvS and DWIT where Thomas questions if he’s a good person while his mental health quickly declines.

In a similar way, paper is fragile and flimsy, easily ripped apart.

‘Paper not stone’ could also be a way to reference Logan’s agenda for the day. All of it can be discarded and saved for Future Thomas™ since none of it is really set in stone.

A lean-to at most

Logan is nothing to Thomas- or at least he feels that way. He’s only someone who can calm Thomas down. Thomas can ‘lean’ on him, but that’s the most he is.

And when you pulled your half away

I’d like to think half has a few different meanings here. The one I like the most is where “half” represents Thomas’ attention. He’s pulled to Nico, he’s pulled to Remus, he’s pulled to anxiety. 

Logan recognizes this and calms him down. He lets him have breaks and gently guides Thomas back to their schedule once he’s a bit better.

Half could also represent for when he pulls away from Logan and listens to the other sides more. In this episode, he practically listens to everyone but Logan, despite him being the most physically there. He’s listening to his spiraling intrusive thoughts (Virgil’s fear and Remus’ role). He’s listening to his worry about Nico’s feelings for him (Virgil’s fear and Roman’s passion). He’s taking breaks and indulging in what he loves (Janus’ role and Patton’s enjoyment in child-like activities such as disney princess puzzles and dancing to up-beat music)

He might be the side the camera follows around, but he certainly isn’t the main character by far.

Gravity won Like it always does

Logan isn’t winning this battle. Of course he isn’t. He never does. Thomas is pulled down by the figurative gravity of all the other sides, while Logan is left there alone. 

In theory, he grounds Thomas the most, but Thomas also naturally drifts away from him. Using his role as logic for quick comfort before listening to someone else for an actual discussion.

Did I weigh a ton?

Is he weighing Thomas down? Is he making him unhappy? He thought he was good at one point, helping Thomas earn a degree in college and organizing a schedule for him so he could live life comfortably.

Yet the degree is tilted on the wall. The schedule would have been torn up if Thomas was given a paper. 

Would it be easier to just delete Our pages and the plans we made?

Would it be easier for Logan to give up? He certainly isn’t needed, Thomas didn’t listen to Logan the whole day and he was still fine. He made pages of things Thomas needed to do along with the plans that Thomas agreed to. Only for them to be pushed to the side since something grabbed his attention. 

And perhaps Logan saves these plans. He keeps them to help Thomas. Maybe to even create more realistic ones. But perhaps Thomas just won’t listen to him. He should just delete the plans he has. Thomas has always been great at improv. Maybe someone like Roman should take control- he’s been listening to him more than Logan anyway. (Represented through the whole Nico situation)

Erase me So you don't have to face me

Thomas turns away from Logan at the end, leaving him alone in the living room. He’s erasing Logan from his mind, finding an opportunity he wants because he doesn’t need Logan. 

Put me in the ground and mow the daisies

Was mowing the lawn on the list of things Thomas needed to do? Nope. Is Thomas mowing over his ideas for something more exciting anyway? Yep.

Ah, the memory, see how it goes When you

Erase me Erase me

“The memory” is Logan. It represents how he was aware of his own outburst at Remus, he knows he lost control. But maybe he’ll also ‘see how it goes’ when Thomas starts ignoring him even more. Perhaps his eyes will stay orange. Perhaps Orange will just take his place entirely. 

So what will you do With no me for you?

Thomas needs him- right? I mean, there’s no one else to create the schedules and plans... that Thomas doesn’t use. He helped earn Thomas’ degree! The... the degree he doesn’t use. 

Maybe Logan is useless. Maybe Thomas can’t function without him. Logan doesn’t even want to know at this point.

I know what we said

Logan knows he technically agreed to Thomas leaving and going to Nico, but he can’t help but feel bitter about it.

This bitterness rises when he’s with the other sides. Roman disregards him, “You’ll be fine, Rome didn’t fall in a day.” Logan hasn’t been ignored for more than one day. He isn’t fine. He’s more than what he’s acknowledged as, he quickly responds with emotion filling his mind, “Well, that’s a misquote so-”

Only to get fucking cut off. Again. He isn’t fine. He’s getting ignored and cut off whenever he tries to input something. Then Patton takes control of the conversation. Directing it at Thomas instead of Logan. Taking Roman’s side. Not listening to logic.

But what if I left a thing or two

Logan just needs to stop. He needs to stop talking, leave a plan or two in Thomas’ mind while a side or two keeps him busy for the day. 

We know that you don't seem To think about what you need 'Til you reach to find that you've

Erased me

Imagine telling someone that you really want to do something with them. You both clear out the whole day at an agreed time. Then they want to do something else. You- you suppose it’s fine? You both go there and then you get side-tracked again, and again, and- the day is over. 

They don’t care about what they were supposed to do. Thomas didn’t care about what he was supposed to do. Most of the things he was supposed to do didn’t even directly benefit Logan. They were things he needed to function, things to keep his place nice, not reading a non-fiction book or watching a documentary. They were things Thomas needed. But apparently that wasn’t a good enough reason to listen to logic. 

What the fuck is this? You're crazy, turned around  

Logan is fed up with how Thomas keeps ignoring him. Keeps getting distracted. “Turned around” turned around from the task at hand. 

“What the fuck is this?” could be to Remus. Constantly bothering Thomas, getting him distracted over and over. Going the complete opposite direction of where they should be going. And not listening to him when talked to about it. 

In two weeks time replaced me

Thomas doesn’t need Logan. It’s clear from his daily routine. All he needs is someone to offer the idea of dancing or a puzzle to him and he’s fine again. 

Ah, the memory everybody knows How it goes you just

Erase me

Logan is well-known throughout the mindscape. He’s known as a nerd, a geek, a nobody. Most of the names he could wear with pride, but he’s nobody. Nobody to Thomas and nobody in the grand scheme of things. Perhaps the other sides would be fine with Logan getting “erased.” They seem to regard his name with distaste anyway.

Did me like a bro and tazed me

Logan makes little flashcards for slang and tries to use them. Almost like a child proudly showing a high test score to their parent. He wants so badly to be acknowledged, to be heard, to be cool. 

Fireworks - poof - it's gone, amazing

Thomas is gone. The fireworks went off in his heart and he’s gone. Logan- Logan should be happy for him. It’s amazing as some would call it. He holds the to-do list to his chest as he sinks out. 

New bio, you've gone solo Drawing mustaches on our wedding photo

Nothing is important, not really. It can all be quickly discarded. “New bio” could be talking to Nico and changing a social media bio to dating or something like that.

“You’ve gone solo.” Haha that’s funny. Thomas is practically anything but solo with Logan. The line is said with such anger and bitterness that it’s no wonder why he thinks he means nothing to Thomas.

“Drawing mustaches on our wedding photo” What else is Remus going to ruin for Logan? Drawing on Thomas’ degree with mustaches?

Erase me Erase me Erase me...

Erase me This is us shouting, baby Erase me

Logan is begging, screaming, shouting for someone to acknowledge that he’s being ignored. But he’s being ignored, so they don’t hear him. Of course they don’t hear him.

Do we call the cops now, baby?

Cops is Orange. Take this as you will.

Ah, the memory everybody knows About the brand new home

There’s no distress in this line. Everyone is fine about the idea of Logan leaving to go into a new ‘home.’ He wasn’t important, so why would they worry? Thomas clearly didn’t seem to worry as he ran out of the house, searching for Nico. Thomas didn’t need him in the slightest.

Erase me And you'll never have to face me

Erase something off the to-do list. Erase the signature on the degree. Erase him.

Erase me Option-Command-Escape me And if you feel nothing Guess what I'll wanna be

Huh, I wonder what he wants to be :)

#ts spoilers #sanders sides #logan angst #logan sanders #ts logan #logan playlist #logan sanders playlist #sanders sides playlist #sanders sides analysis #logan analysis #logan sanders analysis #wtit #ts wtit #wtit spoilers #working through intrusive thoughts

[feferipeixes]

Child I Will Hurt You

One of the weirdest things to Alcor about being a father was how automatically Toby trusted him.

Which really freaked him out because he didn’t feel he should be trusted to raise a child. After all, he was practically still a child himself.

(See the most updated version on AO3!)

===

The thing that scared Alcor the most about raising Toby was how fully the boy trusted him.

He’d experienced and marveled at that kind of trust before. When Mabel found him after that fateful day in 2012 and threw herself at him, sobbing with relief that he wasn’t gone after all, he felt it. When Stan took him and Mabel into his home a few years later, patted him on the back and said “It’s no problem, kid”, he felt it. When he warned Mabel that he shouldn’t be trusted with the triplets’ true names and Mabel shouted him right out of his self-flagellation, he felt it.

The first day he brought Toby home after finding him alone and shivering on the street, he felt something very different.

Panic.

Panic over who the child in front of him truly was underneath that thin layer of flesh. Panic over what would happen if he didn’t stop whatever Bill was planning. Panic as he remembered Weirdmageddon over and over again in complete, horrific detail.

“Listen kid,” he said, floating a few feet off the ground so he could better tower over the child, “no funny business, okay? You hear me in there, Bill?”

Toby only cocked his head, scraggly and unwashed golden locks tumbling away from his face to reveal his scarred eye. He still wore the half-scared half-curious look he’d had when he’d first caught the demon’s attention, but there was something else bubbling up. Something that tasted suspiciously like trust.

It really freaked Alcor out because he didn’t feel he should be trusted to raise a child. Trust was something you gave to adults who knew what they were doing, after all, and he was practically still a child himself.

Alcor grimaced, and lowered onto his knees so he could look the boy directly in the eyes. “I mean it. I’m watching you. I’ll know if anything bad happens.”

To his surprise, Toby smiled at that. “You can make the bad things stop?”

“Yes,” Alcor replied, his voice cracking like it hadn’t in centuries because he was already messing this up, he was sure of it. “N-no getting into trouble. Not on my watch.”

The boy’s face lit up, trust shining brilliant from both eyes, and before Alcor could tell what was happening, Toby had reached up and hugged him around the neck.

And the demon remembered

Bill’s little pipe cleaner hands iron-clad around his neck,

Squeezing the life out of him,

Blue fire rushing all over his body,

Over and into his soul,

Screaming until there was no more breath left in him,

And the little boy’s smile radiated such trust and hope that Alcor was left completely speechless.

“Thank you,” Toby squeaked, and Alcor felt it.

---

“Oh stars, I can’t do this, I can’t do this!” Alcor was in his human disguise, head in hands, elbows resting on the counter, rambling like the world was ending. “I’m way in over my head. Raising a child? Me? I mean I looked after Mabel’s triplets but this is so different…”

“...Sir?” The cashier’s hand hovered over Alcor’s head, unsure whether it was appropriate or comforting to actually pat him. “Are you alright?”

“No!” he fumed, lashing out and knocking over some of his groceries. “I have a six year old at home and he trusts me to look after him and keep him safe! How could this possibly have happened?”

“Uh…” The cashier peered behind the man to the customers in line, most of whom looked some degree of disgruntled or confused. She gave them a little wave to indicate that they should probably move to a different register, and then turned back to the man who appeared to be hyperventilating now. “Do you have a partner? Anyone who’s helping you?”

“Of course not, I’m alone, I’ve got no friends,” he moaned. “There’s no one who I trust enough to foist Toby off to. The poor boy has such bad karma -- he needs me to protect him from that or he’ll get eaten alive!”

“Well… it sounds like you’ve got the right instincts at least. You want to keep him safe.”

“That’s just it! I don’t!” Alcor picked his head up and the cashier saw streaks of a strange yellow liquid running down his face. “Everything I’m doing for him is just stuff I picked up from watching my sister raise her kids! I don’t have any kind of adulting instincts -- none at all! I transcended when I was fucking twelve and that’s where I’ll be stuck until the end of time. I’m just a pointless child! I’ve got too much power and no actual ability to help anyone!”

The cashier sighed and -- after the man nodded to say it was alright -- put her hand on his shoulder. “Listen, man, all of that stuff sounds normal.” (Except for the parts that made no sense to her at all but she opted to ignore them.) “No one knows how to raise a kid, and no one ever feels like they’ve grown up. You learn it as you go. Trust me, my kids ran me ragged and I had no idea what I was doing. But they turned out alright. So will yours.”

Alcor’s voice began to wobble, and he pressed gloved hands to his temples. “But he won’t! I’m developmentally frozen. I’m not capable of learning anything! Seriously, what kind of adult buys this much candy?”

She glanced at his cart, which indeed was half filled with Giddy Cowboys and Sneakers bars. “That is a lot,” she admitted. “I would not advise giving your kid that much candy.”

“What? No.” Alcor stopped sniffling and pulled a face like he’d just smelled poo. “That’s for me. I’m buying all these vegetables and milk and chicken for Toby. He’s a growing kid, he needs to eat healthy, get all those food groups in, you know. I’m not stupid. But I am childish for liking candy so much that I’d eat this much of it in a week! I mean, seriously! Oh stars, I’m hopeless!”

The cashier lifted an eyebrow and removed her hand. “You eat all of this… in a week?”

“I know, I know, I’m ridiculous!”

“That’s not what I meant,” the cashier cut in, before he could start gibbering again. “I’m just worried about your teeth. Your… teeth…” She trailed off as the man suddenly yawned, exposing two rows of jagged knives that could sink into her flesh in an instant. “Your, um, your- your-”

Alcor pulled a mirror out of seemingly nowhere and started picking at his teeth. “What, do I have something in them?”

The cashier’s eyes widened even more as the man’s gloves came off. “My… what pointy claws you have…”

“Thank- wait.” Alcor froze, one long blackened nail still pressed into his gum. “Wait a minute. Pointy. Sharp. Cutting and slicing and ripping open oh stars!”

“Um- um- um-” the cashier tried to say, but with every word she felt like she was shrinking until she’d be swallowed up by her clothes. “Slicing?”

Alcor shook his head furiously, and this time his fist was positively trembling when it came down onto the counter. “I haven’t child proofed the knife drawer in the kitchen!”

He flipped his hat off of his head and pulled out a wad of cash, which he then thrust into the cashier’s hands just as her lights went out. Before anyone else could react, he vanished into thin air, taking his groceries and the shopping cart with him.

“I can’t believe I didn’t think of this before,” Alcor grumbled as he zeroed in on the offending drawer. He pulled it open and there they were -- obscene, dangerous implements that he was a wicked and cruel caretaker to have potentially exposed his child to. He couldn’t stop imagining what might’ve happened if Toby had tried to pull open the drawer and it had fallen on him -- couldn’t stop thinking about his little boy sticking his adorable hand in and receiving cuts and lacerations and awful, awful sobbing filling the house…

With a snap, child locks were in place. Alcor tested them out by trying to pull the drawer open -- and it took a few tries before even he was able to. Sighing with relief, he leaned against the counter and slid down to the floor. His feet bumped up against the shopping cart sitting in the middle of the kitchen, overflowing with Reece’s Mugs and Chortle Taffy and Quasarbursts.

He couldn’t do this. He was too irresponsible.

Alcor dug a hand into the cart and pulled out a candy bar. He sank his teeth into it, enjoyed the rush of sweetness that was almost as good as flesh and bone. Slowly he began to unclench his muscles -- even though his form was imaginary, the cramps shooting throughout his body still hurt. He slid down the counter a little further, almost letting his head touch the floor -- and then he noticed it.

The stairs.

Bolting upright, Alcor let the candy bar fall from his hand. The stairs. How hadn’t he thought about that before? What if Toby fell down and tumbled into the banister and lost his other eye? What if what if what if?

Not a minute later, the demon was wrestling with child safety gates, somehow struggling even with all of his considerable power just to get them to attach to the wall. At one point he tipped his jaw back and used his tongue to line the edges with spit, which then solidified like glue. The stairs had to be safe. He couldn’t risk Toby getting hurt.

And with that thought came even more thoughts that sent Alcor racing through the house. What if Toby slipped in the bathtub? What if Toby climbed on top of the fridge and couldn’t get down? What if Bill slammed his arm in a drawer again and again and again and again until it was full of forks and then he poured soda into his eyes and laughed like a maniac while Dipper drowned in the vast emptiness of the Mindscape???

Alcor stiffened. He set down the intricate contraption he’d been building to keep Toby safe from wild animals in the backyard. And he looked into the mirror.

What was he doing?

This was Bill’s soul he was fretting over. It was always him, on the inside, and he’d known it from the very first day he’d seen the boy. He knew what was lurking beneath the surface, what kind of monster slept in that innocent form waiting until one day he could reach out and traumatize his father once more. Reach out and steal his beating heart, and laugh, and live, and die, and laugh, and live, and die, in a way he’d never be able to again.

A chill passed through Alcor’s body. Something had to be wrong with him, because he knew what Toby was and he’d spent the entire week worrying about the boy. Why did he care so much?

Quietly, he crept down the hall, and peered into the bedroom on the right. There he was -- the beast himself -- sleeping soundly in a bed decorated with race cars and rocket ships. A few more steps, and Alcor could see how small he looked, how even in his sleep he seemed so broken. And the demonic instincts that had rushed through Alcor since the day he’d gone up in flames were quelled, because every fiber of his being told him he needed to protect this child.

He rested a hand on the boy’s forehead, and watched him dream about running around in a field of grass, playing catch with his new father.

---

Thus started a new routine. A demon, trying day-to-day to take care of a small child. Playing grown up even though he felt so utterly unprepared for what he was doing. But Alcor’s life didn’t stop when he became a parent.

Neither did any of his other regular obligations.

“Oh, you’re asking for it now!” Alcor roared, jumping to his feet. “I’m gonna run you through with my sword! Die die die die!”

The dungeon master -- Damien -- peered over his half-rimmed glasses at the demon and smirked. “Not gonna work, I’m afraid. The slime beast’s armor is too thick to be pierced by a sword such as your own.”

Alcor gaped with disbelief. “Whaaat? I call foul play! You let Anushka do it!”

“Anushka’s sword has a fire enchantment on it. Slime armor is weak to heat.”

“Also, I said die five times,” Anushka added with a shit-eating grin on her face, jabbing Alcor in the side with her elbow. “Die die die die die!”

Alcor snorted and dropped back into his chair. “Well, you got me there.” He looked at the other players, disappointment rolling over into amusement. “Can I change my move or am I locked in?”

Damien shrugged. “Go for it. I don’t think you’ll be able to beat it this turn though, and you’ve only got one hit point remaining.”

Nat leaned over and whispered in his ear. “Yo, I’ve got an idea. You should defend this turn and try to survive the slime’s attack, and then on my turn I can fire enchant your sword.”

“Huh. Maybe…” He patted his head to get the spittle out of his ear, and surveyed the map of the dungeon they were in. Then he sat bolt upright in his seat, a large exclamation mark appearing over his head. “Damien. How many sword actions do I get this turn?”

Damien rolled a die. “Two.”

“Yessss. Okay. First, I lunge at the slime again! But with the blunt end of my sword so it gets knocked back.”

Damien rolled another die. “Yep. That works. Are you gonna use your free movement to approach it again?”

Alcor shook his head. “Nope. I’m gonna throw my sword -”

“Your sword doesn’t have enough piercing damage to make a difference from that distance, I’m afraid.”

The room’s dim lighting glinted off of razor sharp teeth. “- at the cable holding up the chandelier.”

Anushka and Nat dropped their pencils, and looked straight up, momentarily forgetting that they were not actually in the dungeon they were traversing. “You what?”

Damien rolled a die again, and sucked in a sharp breath. “Alright. The chandelier falls onto the slime beast before it can react. It quickly catches on fire, leaving it too weak to attack. Congrats!”

Beaming, Alcor scribbled some numbers on his character sheet. “Heck yeah. No slime beast is strong enough to get one past the Dreambender.”

“You’re so creative, Al,” Nat said. “Seriously, wow. I never would’ve thought of that.”

He wove off the compliment. “Naw, I’m just basically a large child. Being silly and immature is what they’re good at.”

Looking up over his dungeon master partition, Damien furrowed his brow. “Why do you say you’re immature -”

There was a ringing in Alcor’s head -- a tug on a bond -- and he held up his hand. “Wait, hold that thought. Speaking of children, my kid’s calling me. I’m gonna have to leave early this week.” He stood up, and did a dramatic bow. “I’ll see ya all next week! Don’t lose my summoning circle!”

Toby -- lying flat on the floor of the Mystery Shack -- perked up at the sight of his adoptive father walking through the door. Tyrone looked about as human as they come -- a man in his mid-thirties with soft brown eyes, no wings, and feet that always touched the ground. He opened his arms and Toby came running to hug him.

Right away there was that trust again, that total trust that Alcor still couldn’t believe he deserved. How could someone like him -- someone who’d just spent two hours playing a tabletop role playing game and laughing about memes -- be trusted to take care of a child?

Gingerly, he took Toby into his arms and gave him a kiss on the cheek. “How are you doing?”

“I’m boooooooored!” Toby whined. “Can we play a game? I wanna play pretend!”

Chuckling, Alcor put Toby down and then sat beside him on the floor. “Sure thing, kid. You know, I’m pretty good at playing games like that. I was playing one with my friends earlier today.”

Toby’s jaw dropped. “Whoaaaaa! You have friends?”

A vein bulged in Alcor’s forehead. “Of course I- never mind. What’s the game, kid? What are we pretending?”

Toby jumped up and started pacing in a circle. “I wanna make up a story! It’s gonna be great! I’ll be the hero and you’ll be the bad guy -- an evil king who wants to kill all of the good people in the land! Is… is that okay?”

There was a mirror mounted on the wall behind where Toby had been sitting. Without the boy in his way, Alcor found his gaze fixed on it. He could see Toby gesturing as he walked and he could see the nostalgic decorations hanging on the wall of the Shack. But there was no Tyrone to speak of.

It took a moment for him to realize that Toby was talking to him. “What? Oh yeah. Of course, kid. I’ll be the bad guy.” He took a deep breath, discarding the voice in his head that furiously objected to him being the villain to Bill’s hero. “What’s my motivation?”

Toby cocked his head. “Moti- what?”

“What’s my backstory? Why am I evil?”

The boy continued to stare at him with a blank look on his face. “You’re evil cause you’re the bad guy and bad guys are evil!”

“That’s kinda boring- never mind.” Alcor grimaced and looked back at the mirror. “So you’re the hero, eh? How are you going to defeat me? What’s the hero good at?”

“Everything!!!!” Toby squealed, and his reflection grabbed onto something invisible. “The hero is the good guy so I should always win and I’ll have all of the magic and the biggest swords ever!”

Alcor shifted so that Toby was hanging onto his shoulders rather than around his middle. “Everything? But if the hero always wins, what’s the point?”

“The good guy always has to win!” the boy chirped, squeezing tight around Alcor’s neck. “Always!”

Oh my stars this is so boring, Alcor thought. How fricking uninventive is Bill’s soul? Children are supposed to be good at being silly and creative. I guess all Bill’s soul can think about is being powerful again.

A figure stepped into the room on the other side of the mirror. It was short -- looked to be about 12 years old -- and had clawed hands, bat wings sprouting from its hips, and a fancy suit that looked out of place for someone so young. Alcor’s jaw dropped as he watched the figure pick up Toby’s reflection, pat him on the back, and then stare directly out of the mirror at the demon.

“This is a game for children,” the figure said in a low growl.

“What?” Alcor yelped.

Toby giggled at the interruption. “I said that all the evil people should die because they’re mean! No one should ever do a bad thing!“

“This is what children are like. They see in black-and-white because they know nothing about how the world works.” Cold, black eyes bored into Alcor’s skull. “Have you forgotten what that’s like?”

“B-but I’m silly,” Alcor stammered, sweat starting to drip down his face. “I’m irresponsible. I love playing games and coming up with interesting stories. Those are childish things for someone as old as me to be doing.”

“Dad?” Toby asked. “What are you saying? I can’t hear you.”

The figure sneered, baring two sets of sharp teeth uncomfortably close to Toby’s head. “Whoever told you that must’ve really hated the idea of growing up.” Toby stirred, and it spent a moment cradling him so he’d calm down. Then those eyes -- now bright and full of gold -- flicked back at the demon. “Who said it? Was it you?”

Alcor gasped and fell over. Toby shrieked as he suddenly found himself tumbling to the ground, and the sound broke Alcor right out of his trance. Quick as a whistle, he pirouetted and caught the boy in his arms, pulling him close to his chest in a tight hug.

“Oh no, oh Toby, are you alright?” he fretted. “Did you get hurt?”

“I’m okay!” Toby squeaked, his face pressed against Alcor’s collarbone. Alcor loosened up on his hug, and took in Toby’s smile. “That was fun! You always catch me! That’s how I know you’re really a good guy.”

“I’m a good guy?” Alcor gulped, and glanced back at the mirror. This time he saw himself, in his present human disguise, holding Toby close, and looking so, so utterly responsible. It freaked him out.

“...Dad?” Toby asked, brow crumpled. “Daaaaad what are you thinking?”

“I think…” Alcor sighed, and gave his son a little kiss on the forehead. “I think it’s time you got some friends your own age.”

---

From that day on, things were a little different.

Alcor bought a house in the physical plane, because a memory of a shack in the Mindscape was no place to raise a child.

“Dad?”

He doctored forms and documents so it not only looked like a certain Tyrone Pines actually existed, but also that he and his adopted son Tobias Pines were legal residents of a sleepy town in the middle of Washington. This let Toby attend school with kids his own age.

“What is it, Toby?”

He went to the library on the weekly to check out parenting books, having long exhausted the meager supply of advice his omniscience had to offer -- as it turned out, parenting was very much a learn-as-you-go experience with few absolute truths to guide you.

“What’s a demon?”

Alcor froze, his hand halfway in the process of turning a page in his book. He started to turn his head around to look at the boy, and remembered just in time to turn his body around with it.

“Where did you hear that?” Alcor asked carefully.

Toby kept his head down, opting to study his father’s shoes instead of his face. “I, um...”

There it was again, that emotion bubbling up inside of Alcor, that instinctual distrust he couldn’t help but feel for the soul who had once taken everything from him. It was all he could do not to jump up and yell “Aha! Caught you red-handed, Bill! I knew you were in there all along!”

He got out of his chair and knelt in front of the child, using a finger to gently raise the boy’s head so they could see eye-to-eye. “You can tell me,” he said softly. “It’s okay.”

Alcor saw Toby reach into that pure, automatic trust he had for the monster who was raising him. The boy gulped, and squared his shoulders.

“Um... Devon’s dad said it to Devon.”

Alcor blinked. “Is that so? Devon, the kid in your class who asked you to play baseball with him?”

Toby nodded. “H-he was asking me again, and I know you said I wasn’t allowed to, but he started showing me anyway. He got his bat and swinged it and it looked really cool. Then his dad yelled at him and said ‘Devon, you little demon, cut that out right now!’“

Alcor could only stare, mouth agape, in response. Toby started to tremble as he continued speaking. “Then Devon’s dad took the baseball bat and Devon got really sad and I didn’t know what it means but it looked bad and I don’t want to be a little demon and I’m really really sorry I said I wanted to play baseball I don’t want to be a demon I don’t I don’t -”

He cut off with a squeak as his father took him into his arms and hugged him tight.

Alcor was a being with access to more power and magic than almost anything else in the universe. He could level mountains, he could turn cities inside out, he could institute universal basic income on the moon with a snap of his fingers.

But when he held Toby in his arms, when he saw the awestruck look on the boy’s face when he played the violin for him, when he listened to Toby babble excitedly about whatever he’d learned in school that day, Alcor felt powerful.

All of his magic crumbled beneath the obscene power granted to him by way of this child’s trust in him. He had the power to protect this child, to support and encourage him to grow up to be the best person he could be. He could also betray Toby’s trust so, so easily.

He could punish his son for no reason if he needed an emotional pick-me-up. He could disregard the boy’s concerns and laugh in his face. He could even raise his voice just a little too much, caught in a moment of frustration, and leave Toby wincing in distress -- an ephemeral moment in Alcor’s life but an upsetting and formative moment in Toby’s which could forever mar their relationship.

That would be childish. That would be immature of him.

Alcor had killed reams of cultists, had bestowed disturbing curses on people who’d only sort of deserved it, had terraformed the western coast of the United States in a fit of rage. He’d done a lot of horrible things with his magic, but.

This power, this power he had to shape Toby’s life.

This power horrified him.

“You’re not a demon,” Alcor said, (and it felt so unfair to be saying that to him of all people -- so cruel and dirty that he wanted to scream until his hair fell out. But he didn’t.)

“Don’t cry,” (even though no one had held him when he cried that day in 2012, because he’d simply slipped through their fingers, and he wanted to repay that favor. But he didn’t.)

“Daddy’s here,” he whispered, before kissing Toby’s tears away. “You’re not in trouble.”

The words came so naturally, as if he knew exactly what he was doing. As if he had the experience to understand what was upsetting his son, and the power to make it better. As if he had the maturity to push past his own conflicted feelings, because he was an adult, and this was a little child.

He set Toby down, and kneeled to meet his eyes. In that moment, he felt tall. Sort of grown up.

Toby sniffled. “You’d never yell at me? Even if I do something wrong?”

Alcor thought once again back to the day he’d seen Bill Cipher on the side of the road. Thought about the furious, vengeful part of him that enjoyed the boy’s suffering because that’s what he deserved. Remarked on how the universe had served him up his greatest enemy in the most vulnerable form possible, giving him the opportunity to take Toby’s trust and do unspeakable things to him.

“Sure thing, kiddo,” he said, ruffling the boy’s hair. “I promise.”

Remembered how he’d instead chosen love.

---

It was a dark and stormy night that found Alcor wandering the streets of a mostly-abandoned city.

He’d been summoned -- it always started with a summons -- and he’d been angry. It didn’t even matter what had made him angry, because there were so many things these days that people absolutely would not stop doing no matter how much he screamed and threatened and threw flaming balls of plasma into their twisted places of worship. They never learned. And neither did he.

Alcor couldn’t stand how many people had to die because of him. How many people were killed in his name. How many lives he’d taken with his own hands because he couldn’t seem to stop, like an immature brat who throws tantrums when things don’t go his way. He wondered if he could ever change, or if he was just stuck this way.

It was deep in these thoughts that the demon heard a little noise. A squeak, barely audible over the rain. He dismissed it at first, because his grand thoughts were more important than the world around him, and right after a bad summons was the perfect time for self-hatred. It felt good -- it was one of the only things that still did. He considered burning the entire city to the ground. Maybe that’d feel even better.

Something told him that it wouldn’t.

He heard the squeak again, his eyes darting over to a heap of trash bags between two buildings, and that’s when he saw him. A little boy with golden hair, no older than six. He was dressed in rags. He looked like he hadn’t seen a scrap of food in days. The left side of his face had been eaten away by flame, leaving it patchy and discolored.

Alcor had seen right through Bill’s disguise, of course. There wasn’t a meatsuit pitiable enough to blot out the sins his soul had committed. Perhaps that was why he had been abandoned on the side of the street to begin with -- karma was finally catching up with him. Alcor wanted to laugh, but he couldn’t. Something strange was going on inside of him. Some sort of instinct buried within him -- not one tipped with blood and claws, but one that creaked and groaned under centuries of exertion.

It was this feeling that prompted him to gather up the child in his arms. He felt how fast the boy’s heart was beating; saw in his past how much he’d been hurt without an adult to protect him. He knew that feeling well.

“It’s okay,” he murmured as Toby began to fuss. “Things will be better now. I’ll protect you. I might only be a child myself, but I promise I’ll protect you.”

One year later, one year of introspection, growth, and unbroken promises later, he had to admit he’d been wrong.

(AO3 link)

#gravity falls #transcendence au #dipper pines #alcor the dreambender #toby pines #tobias pines #fic #my stuff

[tlhrfanfic]

Hey so if you’re still accepting fluff requests…may I request for some Logicality either stargazing or watching fireflies? Please and thank you

@theultimatesandwich So this is where my brain and creativity took this prompt. I actually had to get up and write this because the images would not go away until I did. (It was 4am my time when I wrote it but scheduled it to post at 10:30.) I hope you like it!!!

----------------------------

Logan had never understood Roman when he talked of love. He knew well that he cared deeply for the other sides. He wanted to make sure they were well and taken care of. He wanted them to be safe and, well, as content with their existence as personified aspects of one's personality could logically be. Still, never in all his existence had he come to know what Roman and Patton and even Virgil meant when they used the word 'love'.

The logical side had never once used it as far as he could recollect. And he had a pretty foolproof recollection. He was, after all, Thomas's Logic and it only stood to reason that he would have the clearest—and least biased—memory out of all of them, though—he supposed—they all had their own part to play in Thomas's memories.

Throughout his time knowing the other sides, Logan had even come to realize that, while they weren't human or people, Thomas had created them to be almost human-like in their existence and the way they responded to the world, Thomas, and one another. It was due to this that he realized, in time, he rather enjoyed spending time with Patton. Then again, he enjoyed his time with all of the sides, but with Patton... it was different in many ways.

Unfortunately, those were ways in which he just didn't have the vocabulary to describe. He supposed, if he were to come close, he would say that—to him—Patton were most like Crofters in his eyes. That was, however, a bit too flowery and sentimental for Logan's liking, and so, he tried not to focus too much on that.

Roman and Virgil had both come up to him at two separate times, asking if he realized how much time he had been spending with Patton. Logan had considered this and realized that he did not know how much time he was spending, but with his knowledge and how time presented in the mindscape, he could also accurately surmise that it was quite a lot.

Remus had broken his concentration once when he had been watching Patton. He had giggled and shimmied in that strange way of his before cackling something that Logan couldn't make out. It was hard for Logan—who did his very best to annunciate each and every word for the sole purpose of speaking clearly and confidently—to understand what had been said. Whatever it was, however, had made Patton blush and look at him. Logan could only blink before smiling quickly. He found that when Patton took on the micro-expressions of sadness or worry, a smile from one of them—but especially Logan—seemed to help. The blush itself, however, had been a marvel to see.

Janus had passed him once and—with no discernable motive—claimed he was in denial.

"Falsehood," he stated with confidence. "To be in denial one would need to first be lying to themselves. I'm astounded, Janus. You, as Thomas's self-preservation, should know that."

The snake-like side only tutted, shook his head, and smirked before walking off. Logan could make no sense of it and so he put it out of his mind—or as close to out of one's mind as it could possibly be for an aspect.

One night, however, everything changed.

Roman had invited them all to the imagination. Logan, who had no part in such a place, was quick to decline. At least, he would have if Logan hadn't insisted that his presence was required. Logan had argued until Patton stated that he would be sad if Logan wasn't in attendance.

It was after Thomas had gone to bed one Sunday evening. Thomas would not have to be up extremely early and still early enough that their host would give in to the desire to stay up and binge-watch media that he had already watched almost countless times before.

Logan readied himself for the strange sensations the imagination caused for an aspect rooted in logic and absolutes. After a few moments, the sensations subsided and Logan assumed they were not very deep in the imagination. He would have to remember to thank Roman for that at a later time.

"Logan!" Logan looked up as a ball of blue rushed at him. Arms were wrapped tight around him and Logan, instinctually, wrapped his arms back around the other. Logan had quickly learned and practiced what was expected when Patton gave him hugs. He felt his lips tug into a smile and decided not to think too much about it. After all, he found himself enjoying Patton's company more and more. It made sense for him to smile when in company he found pleasant.

Logan was about to greet Patton in kind when Roman cleared his throat.

"Specs! Shut it! Just watch the sunset and the real show begins!"

Logan did as he was told—they were in Roman's domain, after all. Turning his eyes to the pretty colors of the sky as the sunset and the imagination fell to dusk before growing even darker. Just when there was a little light—enough to see one another still, but not with some difficulty—little flickers of light and the faint sounds of buzzing rose in the air before them.

Logan immediately knew them to be fireflies. He found himself curious as to why Roman would add insects to his world. And why these specifically. Unless he was trying to be as close to reality as possible, but that would then not explain the dragons and magic and other nonsensical things he dreamed up in the dreamscape. Deciding not to focus too much on it, Logan smiled down at the slightly shorter side as Patton squeezed his hand.

As Patton moved, the Logical side moved with him. They moved into the gathering of fireflies, watching as they buzzed and beamed around them. Logan felt facts about the insects rise in his throat but silenced them. He really did not wish to get chastised about spouting knowledge when it wasn't requested.

"Aren't they pretty, Logan?"

Logan turned to look at Patton, ready to explain that pretty wasn't something that was quantifiable to Logan, but stopped the moment his eyes fell on the Moral side.

Whatever words he'd been ready to stay died on his tongue and the other sides as well as most of the Imagination around them melted away as Logan watched Patton.

His heart—though purely imaginative—beat steadily, though a little faster than normal, against his non-existent chest. His mouth went dry. His eyes widened.

Patton stood there looking no different than he usually did when taking in something that instilled such wonder and curiosity within him. This was not the first and likely would not be the last time the Logical side saw that very look on his face. However, this was the first time he saw this look bathed in the glow of the fireflies' bioluminescence and the soft light of the stars in the Imagination's sky overhead.

As he stood there, a word came to mind. One he had heard so many times before but had never had the need or desire to use himself. Until now.

Love.

It was in this moment, though it made no sense and was in no way logical, Logan realized that not only did he have what Roman would call 'feelings' for Patton... but that he loved him as well.

#logicality #ts logicality #logan sanders #patton sanders #sanders sides #ts art #tsart #ts fanfic #ts logan #ts patton #insanelycoolish #tlhrfanfic #tlhrfanfic writing #theultimatesandwich #prompt fill #prompt fic

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Nobody Left Behind

Prompt: So I don't know if you're taking requests? But I just watched Lilo and Stitch for the first time since I got into TSS and I've adopted the headcanon that it is Remus's *favorite* movie (and he's memorized the script) and I love your writing and I'd love to see something angsty involving Remus feeling lonely/unloved by his brother, and maybe Lilo and Stitch is involved somehow. IDK, go wild. (and feel free to ignore this if you aren't taking requests) <3 - anon

it is Le Fluff™ hours my good bitches

Read on Ao3

Warnings: Remus has some abandonment issues, but it’s not too much

Pairings: it is platonic all the way down, babes

Word Count:  2935

Ohana means family.

 Family.

 FamILY.

 What a weird word.

Sometimes it’s the people you’re born with. Well, not ‘with,’ not necessarily, but the people you are born to. A mother, a father, a sister, a brother. Sometimes two mothers, sometimes two fathers, sometimes a different parent. Sometimes two sisters, sometimes two brothers, sometimes a different sibling. Sometimes a mess of assorted people that all share the same blood. A family.

 Remus wasn’t born.

 He was made though, crafted and shaped and born out of the swirling chaos of a child’s mind that didn’t understand the world well enough without other people to help. He remembers getting cobbled together from scraps of thoughts and feelings and morphing them into limbs, into features, into something that vaguely resembled the body of the child he was made to fit. Not the ‘fitting’ was ever his job.

 Just his brother’s.

 Is his brother his family?

 By all accounts he should be, right? A brother is one of those people that are traditionally part of the ‘family’ group, right, someone to laugh with, cry with, fight with, live with. But is Roman really his…brother?

 That’s what they decided to call themselves because nothing else worked. They weren’t really brothers, they were halves. But they weren’t really halves because there was never a whole to begin with.

 The King wasn’t a ‘whole,’ he was…well, he was the King. Half of a king is not a prince. Half of a king is not a duke.

 Half of a king is a mess of blood and bones and viscera dripping off of the end of a Morningstar in the middle of the night when only a destroyed facsimile makes the insanity bleed away just enough to breathe again.

 The closest thing to twins, is what they decided on eventually. They’re twins. One light, one dark. One that marches boldly into danger to confront the wickedness of the world, one that dwells in the shadows and cackles with the demons nipping at his heels. One that loves, one that isn’t loved.

 Sure, they had some things in common. They both loved to fight, hence the scars and the bruises and the wounds that would never, ever heal, the distrust that would never be fixed ever, because the urge to sink their teeth into each other’s necks and rip never went away. They both loved to make, Roman the peaceful lies he tells himself to make up for the gaping wounds Remus leaves as he carves his perfectly tailored destruction. They both love Disney.

 Roman’s made it part of his whole deal as the Prince, he loves Disney. He bursts into song every chance he gets, drags the others in until the Mindscape rings with joyful song and there’s nowhere left for any sadness or darkness. He takes his lessons from it, models himself using the traits of the characters he admires most. Cultivates his art of storytelling, perfect to a tee.

 Remus loves Disney too. Loves how easy it is to twist the lens to distort the image just enough to let the darker parts of the Imagination run wild. What is the real implication of never growing old, never understanding what it means to die? What kind of person curses a ten-year-old boy for being cautious about who he answers the door to? What could the story have been if the prince never comes to save the day?

 When they were smaller it was fine. When they were still getting used to the fact that they weren’t King anymore, they used to sit and watch so many Disney movies. Roman’s favorite was always changing, one week it was Beauty and the Beast, then it was Mulan, then it was Cinderella, it never stayed the same.

 Remus’s was always Lilo and Stitch.

 Roman never understood it, said it was boring, there wasn’t a prince, there wasn’t anything exciting. Remus said that aliens were plenty exciting, thank you very much.

 But they would always watch it. The King wasn’t there anymore, but the prince and the Duke were.

 …when they were smaller, there was one time where the prince wasn’t there at all.

 Remus remembers waking up one day and feeling like he was being Split all over again. The maggots in his bones reached their awful little mouths into his heart and pulled, yanking him all the way across the bed and to the door, howling and screaming for his twin.

 Only to be met with a blank wall.

 He remembers howling at the top of his lungs until Janus had rushed to his side, kneeling down next to him and telling him shh, be quiet, hush now, you’re alright, you’re not hurt. And when he couldn’t explain that he was hurt, half of him was missing, Remus needed to go find him, Janus’s mouth had hardened into a thin line and told him that there wasn’t anything to worry about.

 He remembers thinking that was a lie.

 But it wasn’t. It wasn’t a lie.

 Roman was fine.

 Roman was more than fine, because Roman had a family.

 Roman had Patton, who is the actual manifestation of sunshine and rainbows and loved so much it almost burns. The darkness that wrapped around Remus’s corner of the Imagination screeched and hissed at the very idea of being loved that much, even as part of him strained with all its might to get to it. But Patton would never set foot near this side of the Mindscape.

 Roman had Logan, who represents everything true about the Mindscape, about Thomas, about the world. The reality of things that would never let anything Remus created make it anywhere close to anything important because it was dangerous, it was hurtful, and it was wrong. Logan wouldn’t want anything to do with something so useless.

 And that was okay. Because Roman may have been gone but Remus wasn’t alone. Remus had Virgil, who lived with fear soaking every fiber of his being. Remus had Janus, who wrapped himself in darkness and obscurity and laughed.

 But then Virgil left. And now Roman had Virgil, who used Thomas’s anxieties to keep him safe, to help Roman and the others figure out what to do, how to take care of everybody, and how to make the darkness go away. And Virgil would never willingly sink himself back into the darkness when he’d spent so long clawing himself out of it.

 But that was okay, because Remus had Janus. Janus, who plotted and schemed and smirked at how easily the others were pulled along by his strings, luring them deeper and deeper as Remus readied his Morningstar for the trap to be sprung.

 But then they sprung the trap and everything went wrong.

 Roman didn’t want to fight. He just…he let Remus knock him out and didn’t show up again except to scoff and say he didn’t like him.

 And that was…wrong.

 Because Roman wasn’t supposed to like him but he was never only supposed to not like him. Roman was supposed to declare that he wasn’t welcome and try and slash him with his sword. Roman was supposed to try and banish him from the Mindscape and spit insults at him until he left, cackling all the while. Roman was supposed to hate him.

 But Roman didn’t hate him, he just…he just said he didn’t like him.

 But that was okay, because Janus could just come up with a better plan with him this time. They could do it properly, and Roman would hate him again and it would be back to normal.

 But then Janus left. And now Roman has Janus, who keeps his eyes where the prince’s aren’t, when he can’t see what’s happening or he can’t bear to look, to help Roman figure out what to do when what seems to be happening isn’t anything that the prince is used to dealing with. And Janus would never willingly step away from a place that finally accepted him.

 Roman has them now. Roman has people that chose him. Roman’s family chose him. He chose them. They chose each other.

 Remus’s grip on his Morningstar slackens and the thing falls to the ground with a heavy clunk. He moves numbly through his room until he can fall to his knees on his bed.

 He just came from the living room. They were all there. Roman was talking with Logan, ranting about some new show they were both watching. Janus was in the kitchen with Patton, making something for dinner that everyone—well, almost everyone—could eat. Virgil was on the back of the couch, reaching out for Roman’s shoulder every once in a while.

Remus had waited behind the couch. For someone to sit down, for someone to see him and shriek, or even maybe—just maybe—for someone to ask where he was.

 But no.

 Patton had come over and gently ruffled Virgil’s hair, saying that dinner was ready. Logan and Roman had moved into the kitchen, demanding Janus’s attention and pulling him into their conversation. Virgil had murmured a quiet thank you and Roman had asked him for what?

 “Y’know,” Virgil had said, “for…this.”

 “Of course,” Roman had laughed, the soft rustle of fabric as he probably pulled the emo in for a hug—what did those feel like?— “I should be thanking you?”

 “What for, kiddo?”

 “I dunno, it just…feels like it’s been forever since we’ve all sat down for dinner together.”

 Remus’s chest had started to hurt.

 “The whole family.”

 The whole family.

 Remus’s eyes well up with stubborn tears and he angrily swipes them away, baring his teeth at the memory and focusing intently on the things on the bed. Each hand-stitched, each carefully kept clean.

 His family.

 He reaches out with a shaking hand and tucks the blue frog plushie into the crook of his arm, crawling into the middle of the bed and balancing the purple spider on his shoulder. His hands keep shaking as he wraps the long yellow snake securely around his neck, clutching the head under his chin and nuzzling it protectively. The dark blue cat he holds in his other hand, careful not to tear its tie as he scrunches in on himself.

 Wait.

 Wait.

 Where is it?

 No, no, no, no—

 Remus growls, placing all of his family gently on the floor before all but tearing at his sheets. Where is it, where is it, where is it—his heartbeat starts to rise as his search grows more frantic, where is it, where is it—

 The slightest little puff of red hair and he howls, lunging for it and sweeping it into his lap. He pauses to make sure the lion’s crown didn’t fall off and sighs when he sees it still in place. He sets the lion between his legs and leans over, adjusting everyone back into place and scrunching himself into a ball again. He rubs his nose against the lion’s fur and nuzzles into the soft fabric.

 He’d never be able to forgive himself if he lost them.

 Because Ohana means family.

 Family means nobody gets left behind or forgotten.

——————————————————

There’s a knock on his door.

 Why is someone knocking on his door?

 They knock again.

 Remus looks up, carefully butting the spider out of the way with his head and sitting up. The snake hangs off his shoulder and he lets it, only missing its warmth once the knock sounds again.

 The frog and the cat watch him warily as he climbs out of bed, the lion clutched in his hand.

 The door squeaks slightly as he opens it.

 “So, I’ve got popcorn, I found the weird gummy snakes, and they had this chocolate-covered bacon which we have to try—Remus?”

 Roman?

 Roman stands there, his arms full of snacks and blankets, his head tilted. He glances behind Remus—probably to check something or other—and then back at him.

 “Remus? Are you okay?”

 “Why are you here?” Roman doesn’t like him.

 “It’s movie night, Re, of course, I’m here.” Roman chuckles nervously before taking in his tear-stained face. “Hey, Re, what’s going on? Are you okay? Can I come in?”

 Why is Roman here? Roman has his family, what is he doing here? With Remus?

 “Remus—“ oh, right, Roman’s talking to him—why is Roman talking to him?—in a soft voice now— “Remus, hey, look at me.”

 Remus blinks. Oh. Roman looks concerned now, he’s reaching for him.

 “Hey,” he murmurs as he ruffles Remus’s hair, “what’s going on? Have you been crying?”

 Remus nods dumbly.

 “I’m sorry, Re, can I help?”

 Help? Why does Roman want to help?

 Oh, he’s waiting for an answer.

 “…sure.”

 “Thank you,” Roman says softly, “can I come in?”

 Remus steps aside wordlessly and Roman walks in, pausing when he sees the rest of Remus’s family on the bed.

 “Did you make them?”

 Something dark twists in Remus’s chest as he sees Roman reach for the spider.

 “Don’t.”

Roman backs off, stepping back as Remus snatches up his family and cradles them in his lap, glaring at Roman and curling up on the bed.

 “I won’t, Re, I’m sorry,” Roman says, still speaking softly, “can I sit?”

 “…floor.”

 Roman sits on the floor, setting aside the blankets and snacks, looking up at him. He still looks concerned. Why? Roman doesn’t like him.

 “Why weren’t you at dinner,” he asks gently, “I was worried.”

 Worried? About him? Remus snorts.

 “You had your whole family there,” he spits, “why would you worry?”

 “But you weren’t there,” Roman says like that makes any difference, “so I was worried.”

 Remus shakes his head. Roman doesn’t get it. Roman doesn’t worry about him, he worries about other things. But if Roman wants to know why he wasn’t at dinner, he’ll tell him.

 “I was with my family.”

 Roman’s brow furrows as he glances around again. “…your family?”

 Remus huddles protectively around his family. “Yes. My family.”

 Roman’s eyes widen as he takes in Remus’s posture and how he reacted when Roman asked about them earlier.

 “…are they your family, Remus?”

 “Yes.” He holds them tighter. “I chose them. They won’t leave me. They won’t forget me. That’s what family means.”

 Something crosses Roman’s face and he lets out a wounded noise. Wait. Are they fighting?

 “Wait, Remus,” he murmurs, rising up to his knees, “did you—did you think we forgot you?”

 “You did forget me.”

 “I’m sorry, Remus, I would’ve come to look for you, but I thought—“ Roman shakes his head— “no, it doesn’t matter what I thought. I should’ve come got you, Re, I’m sorry, I—I didn’t mean to leave you behind.”

 Oh.

 “…you didn’t?”

 Roman shakes his head furiously. “No, Remus, I promise. I never meant to leave you.”

 “But everybody leaves me.”

 If possible, Roman’s eyes are now wider and he scrambles for the edge of the bed. “What do you mean, Remus, what do you mean everybody leaves you?”

 “You left. Virgil left. Janus left. Everybody left.” The lion’s mane brushes against his lips as he bows his head. “But not them. They won’t leave me.”

 “Oh, Remus—“

 Something big lunges at him and Remus whimpers, he doesn’t have his Morningstar, he doesn’t want to fight, he doesn’t—he doesn’t—

 What’s happening? He feels warm and he’s being squished and Roman is pressing himself against him and what—what—

 “What’re you doing?”

 “It’s a hug, Remus,” comes Roman’s voice, slightly muffled, from over his shoulder, “I’m hugging you.”

 Oh.

 Oh.

 “R-Ro?”

 “Yeah, Re, I’m here, I’m right here, I won’t forget you, I won’t leave you behind, you’re my brother, you’re my family, I choose you.” Roman’s grip tightens on him and Remus just about gasps. “I choose you and I want you and I like you.”

 Roman…Roman likes him?

 Roman chooses him?

 Roman won’t…leave?

 “No, Remus,” Roman promises as he cautiously asks, “I won’t leave. Not unless you want me to.”

 “No.”

 “Then I’m not going anywhere.”

 That’s it.

 Remus throws his arms around his twin and sobs, cries an entire ocean of tears into his brother’s shoulder because he’s here and he cares and he chose Remus. The darkness shudders as that small part of him surges forward, into Roman’s chest, finding a home in the prince’s heart and languishing in the warmth there.

 “I’m right here, Re,” Roman murmurs, stroking up and down his back, “right here, I’ve got you.”

 The snake drapes itself cautiously over Roman’s shoulder, the spider taking up watch on his knee. The cat and the frog stare at him, making sure he isn’t lying, that he won’t change his mind. The lion, sandwiched between them, feels the reassuring rumble from Roman’s chest and purrs.

 After a long, long time, Remus pulls back a little and scuffs a hand over his nose.

 “…did you say something about chocolate-covered bacon?”

 Roman’s smile lights up.

 “Let’s put on Lilo and Stitch and we’ll try it.”

 Ohana means family.

 Family means no one gets left behind.

 Or forgotten.

General Taglist:@frxgprince @potereregina @reddstardust @gattonero17 @iamhereforthegayshit @thefingergunsgirl @awkwardandanxiousfander @creative-lampd-liberties @djpurple3 @winterswrandomness  @sanders-sides-uncorrect-quotes  @iminyourfandom  @bullet-tothefeels  @full-of-roman-angst-trash  @ask-elsalvador @ramdomthingsfrommymind @demoniccheese83  @pattonsandershugs @el-does-photography @princeanxious  @firefinch-ember  @fandomssaremysoul  @im-an-anxious-wreck  @crazy-multifandomfangirl @punk-academian-witch  @enby-ralsei  @unicornssunflowersandstuff  @wildhorsewolf @thetruthaboutthesun @stubbornness-and-spite @princedarkandstormv @your-local-fookin-deadmeme @angels-and-dreams  @averykedavra @a-ghostlight-for-roman @treasurechestininterweb  @cricketanne  @aularei @queerly-fluid-fan @compactdiscdraws @cecil-but-gayer  @i-am-overly-complicated  @annytheseal  @alias290  @tranquil-space-ninja @arxticandy @mychemically-imbalanced-romance @whyiask @crows-ace @emilythezeldafan @frida0043 @ieatspinalcords @snowyfires @cyanide-violence @oonagh2 @xxpanic-at-the-everywherexx @rabbitsartcorner @percy-07734 @triflingassailantofmyemotions @virgil-sanders-the-gay-emo @cerulean-watermelon @puffed-up-bees

If you want to be added/taken off the taglist, let me know!

#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #remus sanders #roman sanders #they're the main focus #creativitwins

[lovelivingmydreams]

Aparently writing fanfics about Sanders sides AU’s is a thing that I do now

So some of you might know  @rondoel made this really cool comic thing about king creativity. Master post here for those who don’t. The internet was given permission to do whatever they want with it. So this is not ‘canon’ to that comic, but an idea that won’t let me be until I write it down. So here’s part one of two:

Lost in thought

Virgil took a deep breath as he wrapped himself around baby Patton and looked up to Janus and Logan expectantly. They were both bowed over a desk with several memories and notes scattered all over. They hadn’t even noticed he’d left the room, and that might’ve been for the best. His attempt at talking to the king hadn’t gone as well as he’d hoped. He hadn’t been optimistic enough to think that upon his apology the king would split and Roman would run over and embrace him and get everything back to normal. But he’d thought something might change, anything at all. But now all he’d accomplished was making himself feel even worse.

Was Roman really gone gone? Forever?

And Remus? Sure he was a pain to deal with sometimes, but… they’d grown up together.

Virgil wanted them back, even if this new guy- well new to him- hadn’t been so scary, he wanted his friends back. Thomas was sleeping and likely wouldn’t get out of bed until he really had to in order to eat and drink tomorrow. They had survived a day in this chaos, only because Thomas was taking a break. Their host was still exhausted and would likely not be overly active for the next week. And with things being how they are, that was a good thing.

With his coherent thoughts muted, his moral compass and emotions reduced to a non-verbal child and his anxiety incapable of properly analyzing the situation out of fear of causing absolute chaos in the mindscape… None of that could be good. At least Thomas wouldn’t call for them unless king gave him a very urgent reason to. Virgil took a deep breath and returned his attention to the present. Hopeful that Logan and Janus had come up with something after a full day of sitting in this library. Just because Logan was mute, didn’t mean he wasn’t the smartest among them anymore right? And Janus, no matter what else Virgil thought of him, was very clever too. Surely they’d know what to do… Or maybe Virgil could still do something? Logan had once told him that he was needed to get them out of sticky situations when they do come up.

This situation was very sticky.

“Lo? Janus?” he asked softly, mindful of the fact that baby Patton was all tuckered out in his arms.

He gently got up from his spot against the bookcase and readjusted his grip, feeling the way the luxurious fabric moved around his body. The material was soft and warm, but the uniform was nowhere near as comforting as he’d like. He missed his hoodie, but he didn’t dare risk going into his room  to look for it in his current condition. Still… maybe he could ask one of the other’s to see if they could find one, even if it was his old pre ‘fitting in’ hoodie… It always made him feel safe. Big enough to hide away in when the world became too much and to hide how small and weak he looked. This outfit made him look like a child next to the others. He never liked that about his appearance. Despite being a nearly thirty year old adult like everyone else, he still looked like a teenager whose body hadn’t fully caught up with his new height. No wonder the king looked down on him. In his eyes, he was probably just a kid. King clearly felt like he was older and wiser than all of them…

He shook himself out of his thoughts. He has to focus on here and now.

“What should we do?” he asked.

The two older sides exchanged a glance, Logan nodded and Janus cleared his throat uneasily.

“We can’t do much…” he admitted reluctantly. King had apparently been right, with everyone else out for the count, his ability to lie was near nonexistent.

“Neither of us are strong enough to stand up to him., he has made sure of that. And even if we were all at full strength, I don’t think me or Logan, even if we were to work together, would be able to match him now. Not even if Patton helped us. Creativity has matured with Thomas and grown stronger. You might stand the best chance, but in your current condition…”

“Me?” Virgil asked shocked. He was only ‘powerful' when Thomas was really overwhelmed or in imminent danger. That is when he could shut everyone else up, or focus them on a single task. And even then he had little control over even himself.

“Yes Virgil,” Janus insisted looking at him like the words held the key to world peace. “Like I explained earlier, he has nothing against you personally.

This is about me, Logan and Patton. But he knows you can shut his ideas down with just a few well-placed doubts in Thomas’ head, as he himself acknowledged. And he is right to fear you Virgil. You were a great source of motivation for Thomas to get creative, but you can take that motivation away just as easily.”

Virgil shook his head. Shutting creativity down completely? Even if… well no, Janus was right. He could. He had told Roman no so often in the past and despite Roman’s promises to strike him down he never even tried. When Thomas asked to get rid of him that first video, Roman hadn’t even tried to confront him head on, pretended they weren’t in the same room… Had Roman been afraid of him? Could he truly hit the brakes? No out of the question.

“I get that we can’t let him just run the place, but Thomas… I can’t hurt Thomas like that. He needs his creativity too much, especially now with everything… It would be devastating,” he insists as he gently runs his fingers through baby Patton’s hair. Creativity helps Thomas cope when life becomes too much.

He catches sight of Logan looking down in what he believes is shame. Why? What was everyone’s deal with this creativity?

“Maybe, if I knew what happened, before me, before the split,” he tries. “Maybe I could try talking to him again? See if he can see it our way?” he suggested. He wanted Roman and Remus back. But his priority had to be with the others. Who knew if the brothers would be able to reverse what the king did? Or if things would go back to normal once the king disappeared? He couldn’t risk that. So first, help everyone else and then see if they can get the twins back. He hated prioritizing like that, but it was for Thomas.

Janus and Logan exchanged another look and then, as one, shook their heads at Virgil.

Logan silently cleaned up their research and turned away to head to his room without another wo… well, glance. It was so fast Virgil couldn’t even decipher the emotion that had flashed underneath the surface of his stoic mask.

Janus on the other hand put on a comforting smile and patted him on the shoulder in an overly friendly gesture. “This is not your burden to carry Virgil. It doesn’t matter anyway. We’ll think of something. You just focus on staying calm and looking after Patton, alright?”

Without waiting for an answer Janus hurriedly followed Logan and left Virgil alone and slightly frustrated in the library. Great. Just great. It wasn’t the first time he asked about the king. Even before this whole mess, he'd been curious for ages. But he was always dismissed with “it's in the past" and the like. But now it wasn’t in the past anymore and the other’s were still leaving him in the dark. What were they hiding?

Virgil sighed and started wandering. Or he wanted to wander but his “promotion” seemed to lead him to his “ boss’ ” domain the second he lost focus. Soon he found himself stranded in the never ending fields of imagination. Virgil stopped walking, not wanting to interrupt his majesty again, and tried to focus on Patton's steadily moving chest.

He was scared. Without much else to distract him, even the task of protecting baby Patton would soon seize to keep the bad thoughts at bay. Especially with everything being so terrible.

He wanted Roman to be here. He'd know how to distract him. At the very least he wanted his music so he could agonize in peace for a little while. When he listened to music, he could sort through the feelings without them actually translating into thoughts. Just then he saw something appear at his feet.

Curiously he sat down Indian style and noted to his delight that it was his headphones and a music player. He eagerly put it on and scrolled trough the lists. It had all of their Spotify lists downloaded as well as a list that just read ‘TSS’. As he scrolled trough it he learned that it contained all of their lists combined into one along with every song Thomas had ever created and/or performed.

Well. That would do it. He put on the phones, curled himself around Patton once more and started humming.

#Sanders Sides #King Creativity #king ay #Rondoel #my headcanon for that au #Second part will follow

[prince-rowan-of-the-forest]

Almost, A Light in the Dark

2 : Embrace of the Darkness

Virgil gets a surprise visit after the wedding and after an even more surprising turn of events he ends up having to keep everything secret, it was Roman's last request before he left, after all.

----

| <- Previous Part | Ao3 |

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4462

Notes:

This is Virgil's POV of the aftermath, what happens after Roman sinks out? etc. This chapter is quite a bit shorter than the other one, but I wanted it to be separate, so here we are!

Please enjoy! And feel free to send asks (I love asks) and/or reblog if you do!!!

----

Virgil didn’t even know the wedding had been going on, in all honesty. He had tried so hard to forget about it that when it came to it he’d not even shown up at all, he knew it was happening now, of course, he could feel Thomas’ anxiety over the whole situation. 

He didn’t care that much either way. It’s not like he wanted to be there for the inevitable disaster that would unfold afterwards. He was content with staying in his room, lying on his bed watching recordings of old MCR concerts and hoping whatever disaster would soon sweep the mindscape would graciously avoid involving him. If Patton and Janus faced off then- depending on who came off worse- he probably wouldn’t get involved. Janus would avoid him- like he does anyway- if he had ended up worse off from the arguments. Patton might come and see him, but ultimately he would probably go to Logan.

If Logan ended up worse off from this whole thing - which Virgil doubted, though he knew the logical side had problems of his own - he would lock himself in his room until he’d figured it out.

And if it was Roman, he would come to Virgil. Or, maybe he would have come to Virgil if this had happened a few weeks ago.

Something had happened to Roman after the courtroom. Virgil couldn’t help but notice how he’d started to become more distant. He’d started spending more time in his room or in the imagination, he’d stopped coming to famILY dinners that Patton had arranged, he’d stopped joining them in group activities altogether. Virgil couldn’t fathom why he’d stopped coming. Roman seemed to love all the events, always took pride in the movie nights, loved beating them in board games. Virgil just… he didn’t know why Roman had stopped.

Of course Virgil worried, he and Roman might not have had the best relationship before, but it had been getting better, or so Virgil had thought. He’d assumed that they were at least friends now, but then again, Roman had been avoiding him since the episode with the puppets. Of course Virgil was worried, he was anxiety for goodness sake, he’d probabably worried about Roman more than enough for at least three people, but he just didn’t know what to do about it. 

So if Roman had ended up coming out worse from the wedding then… Virgil found he didn’t know where he would go.

Not moments later, his door slammed open, spilling light into his dark room. The bang made him jerk in surprise, sitting straight up and staring at the figure in his doorway. Maybe Virgil shouldn’t doubt himself so much, because it was Roman who stood there. He couldn’t help but relax just slightly, if only because maybe this meant that their friendship hadn’t been completely ruined by whatever it must have been that he did. 

Roman looked distraught, Virgil thought, which brought right back the worry that had left him when he realised it was Roman. There were tears dripping down his cheeks, though he didn’t seem to care. He was shaking, but standing tall in a way that screamed he was determined to work through it. He still had a hand on Virgil’s door where he’d slammed it open.

“The wedding was that bad, huh?” Virgil said, trying to open lightly, he hoped it would calm Roman down a little, he’d only seen the guy look this determined when he was fighting monsters in the imagination, Virgil wasn’t sure he wanted that determination turned on him.

“You could say,” Roman answered through gritted teeth, “I’m pretty sure I fucked up.”

“What’d you do?” Virgil asked, setting aside his laptop and standing up. If Roman wanted to talk about it he would, and Virgil would listen.

“I’m leaving.” Roman announced, instead of answering his question, his tone made Virgil jump, because there was absolutely no room for an argument there, not that he would try, arguing with a determined Roman was already a fruitless endeavour before you even started, “I- I can’t stand to be here anymore, and I wanted to tell you before I went, because- well- I suppose because you’re- you.”

“...Leaving?” Virgil asked, confusion edging into his voice, “Where would you go?”

“With Janus and Remus,” Roman answered, Virgil’s eyes widened, “If they’ll take me, if not, well, I suppose I don’t know, maybe some far corner of the imagination, or the subconscious with Remy perhaps.”

“You’re- you’re going to the dark side?” Virgil asked, and if his wide eyed expression wasn’t already portraying it his tone definitely held his disbelief, “Why?”

“Because,” Roman said, “I certainly don’t belong here, and besides even if I wanted to stay I doubt you all would want me.”

“Roman- what- you- you do belong here! You certainly belong here more than I do-” Virgil said, now standing right in front of Roman, “And why the hell wouldn’t we want you?”

“I just yelled at Patton, and Thomas,” Roman said, stepping back, “I ruined everything when I chose to go to the wedding, I’ve made- made so many stupid fucking mistakes, I’m a terrible prince and nothing like the hero Thomas needs, Virgil.”

“So you’re… just gonna go?” Virgil asked in a voice smaller than he’d intended, “Just- leave?”

“That’s the plan,” Roman nodded, “I uh- I actually wanted to ask if- you wanted to come with me?”

“You… want me to go back?” Virgil asked, it was his turn to step back. 

“You don’t have to!” Roman immediately amended, “Just- I know you used to live down there so I- just thought I’d offer.”

“I…” Virgil sighed, “I hope it makes you happy, Roman.”

Roman looked down.

“I really do, I um- but, I’m not close with Janus or Remus, not anymore,” Virgil said, “I ruined those relationships when I left, and I don’t think there's much going back for me.”

“Oh,” Roman said softly, “Well- I suppose this is goodbye, then.”

“Always one for the dramatics, huh,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes, “You’re still going to be Thomas’ Creativity, you know, you can’t change your function by going to the dark sides. He’ll still need you.”

“I suppose you’re right.” Roman said, before bowing low with a flourish, “I suppose this is simply farewell for now, then. I shall see you soon, stormcloud.”

Roman winked at him before he began to walk down the hall, Virgil couldn’t help but step out of his room to watch Roman go. He stopped at the stop of the stairs that descended into the commons and turned back, a strained smile on his face when he turned back to Virgil.

“Keep this a secret for me, if you could,” Roman said, “I’d like to keep them from looking for me for as long as I can.”

“Alright,” Virgil said, taking a deep breath, “Be careful, Princey.”

Roman saluted him, before sinking out.

—-

Roman had been missing for three days since the wedding.

Virgil, of course, knew what had happened, where he had gone. But… Roman had asked him not to tell them, so he wouldn’t, not yet at least.

His room had disappeared almost immediately after he had, as well as his door to the imagination that used to sit at the end of the hall, of course they had all noticed, but Patton and Logan were yet to put together the cause, so Virgil had decided pretty easily to act ignorant as well. 

The next day Patton had tried to call Roman up during a discussion with Thomas about how to move forward, next steps with his content and such. Stuff that Roman should really help with. When they had tried, Janus had shown up in his place, flipped them double birds before sinking out again. They didn’t try to call Roman again that day.

Two days later it seemed that Patton couldn’t stand avoiding it anymore and called him and Logan to a meeting in the commons. They stood in silence for a while, before Logan sighed.

“It feels strange to be having a ‘family meeting’ without Roman present.” Logan sighed.

“Yeah,” Patton said sadly, “That’s… really what this is about, actually.”

“I figured,” Virgil nodded.

“I haven’t seen Roman since- since the wedding,” Patton said, “Have either of you seen him since?”

“No,” Logan said, shaking his head a little, “I have not.”

“Me neither,” Virgil lied, Roman had come to his room afterwards, of course, but telling them that would prompt them to ask him questions about what had happened. Virgil was glad he’d gotten so good at lying, living with Janus for years did have it’s perks, even if he hated doing it most of the time. 

“It’s been… three days since then,” Patton said, “And his room is still missing?”

Logan nodded, “It seems to be that way, yes.”

Virgil sighed, he had seen the video they had recorded since the wedding. He had seen Roman’s outburst, seen Janus’ face during it. At the very least it had made it a little clearer why Roman had wanted to leave, and also reassured him at least a little that the snake would take care of him.

“D-do you think he may have…” Patton paused, “...ducked out?”

“There’s an easy way to tell,” Virgil said, instead of saying ‘no’ as he knew to be true, Roman hadn’t ducked out, “Logan, how is our creative performance doing?”

“Everything seems to be functioning normally,” Logan said after summoning a notebook, “Possibly even more effectively than normal, actually, Thomas seems to have been having more ideas than usual over the last few days.”

Virgil wondered if it was because Roman was around Remus more now, he knew they were meant to be complimentary, two parts of creativity, if they worked together then their creative performance would probably be enhanced. 

“That… doesn’t make sense,” Patton said, “Don’t get me wrong, it’s great that we know Roman hasn’t ducked out, but if he hasn’t then… where is he?”

“Perhaps it would be good to request Thomas call him up, instead of one of us doing it,” Logan said, “Maybe he will come if it’s Thomas.”

“Maybe,” Virgil said, shifting feet, “Maybe we should wait until tomorrow, though, it’s getting late.”

“Yeah, right,” Patton nodded, “I’ll make us something quick for dinner, ok kiddos?”

“Got it,” Virgil said, slumping down onto the sofa, he wondered what Roman was doing right now. Maybe he was eating dinner with Janus and Remus. Janus would have cooked, because neither of the twins could so much as make a poptart without starting a fire. Maybe Janus would have cooked them some elaborate meal, or maybe they were having something simple like they were up here. Maybe Remy would even be joining them. Virgil shook his head, taking a deep breath in an attempt to clear his head. He couldn’t keep worrying about what Roman was doing.

“Virgil?” Logan said, sitting next to him, “Are you- alright?”

“Fine,” Virgil answered, leaning back into the cushions, “Just- worried about Roman, I guess.”

It wasn’t too far from the truth to leave a sour taste in his mouth, but he still felt a little bad about lying to Logan- lying to them both. The commons felt so empty without the fourth and loudest member of their FamILY.

“It will be alright,” Logan said, “We’ll find him.”

“Yeah,” Virgil sighed, “Thank you.”

Virgil already knew where Roman was, of course, but it had served to make him feel a little better anyway, if only because… well at least Logan cared enough to attempt to reassure him about it. From what he’d gathered, Roman and Logan had never had the best relationship, so it was nice that he was worried despite that.

—-

The next day the sides stood in Thomas’ living room. Virgil was on the stairs, as usual, and he couldn’t help but continue to glance at the empty spot next to him where Roman would be standing if he were here. 

They went through the usual meet and greet, Thomas did his intro - because of course they were filming again (the mystery of ‘where is Roman’ seemed to be good enough for a video idea, at least) - and they got started. 

“Roman’s still missing?” Thomas asked when Patton brought it up. Virgil managed to hide his wince spectacularly, thank you very much.

“We haven’t been able to find him since the wedding,” Logan answered with a nod, “It is worrying, to say the least.”

“Yeah I uh- has he ducked out?” Thomas asked.

“We already ruled that one out,” Virgil answered, leaning back on the steps, “Your creativity is working fine, so he’s not gone, he’s just… not here.”

“Right,” Thomas said, “And last time we tried to summon him, Janus showed up instead.”

“Yeppers,” Patton nodded, “But I uh- I think maybe it was because I was the one who tried to summon him, he probably didn’t want to see me, after all of… that.”

“We were hoping that you might be willing to call him in, Thomas,” Logan said, “He should listen to you, and if he doesn’t that may mean he really is in trouble.”

“Oh yeah I can definitely do that,” Thomas nodded, “Good idea,”

Thomas took a deep breath before calling Roman’s name, the silence that followed in the next few seconds was awkward, to say the least, but just as Virgil opened his mouth to say that maybe he wasn’t coming, the air began to ripple behind the TV and Remus popped up, leaning over it with his smug face and that stupid fucking mustache. 

“You-” Virgil hissed as Remus grinned and waved.

“You wanted a creativity, you got one,” Remus said, disappearing and reappearing in front of the TV with a hand on his hip, “Couldn’t disappoint good old Thomathy! Ro-bro’s not around right now, so you’ve got me!”

“Oh, great,” Virgil muttered, Logan sighed.

“Could you at least tell us where Roman is?” Logan asked.

“Probably the imagination,” Remus shrugged, “Where else would he be?”

“Remus- he’s been missing for four days now!” Patton cried, “Can- can you at least tell us he’s safe?”

“Better than ever!” Remus said, clapping his hands, “But surprise surprise he doesn’t want to talk to you! I wonder why?”

“He’s safe, then?” Virgil asked, narrowing his eyes at Remus. He hoped Roman had told his brother that Virgil knew, he just wanted to know that Roman was ok.

“Fine, perfect, actually, way better now that he doesn’t have to worry about love being conditional, huh Virge?” Remus cackled as if that statement was funny, Virgil was just- confused! When had he ever said anything like that? Well, that was something he could put aside to worry about at 2am when he couldn’t sleep.

“Remus, stop it,” Thomas said, “Can you- can you ask Roman to come and talk to us?”

“No can do Tommy, he’ll come when he’s ready, not before!” Remus huffed, twirling his mustache, “Oh, but he did ask me very nicely to give you this!”

Remus produced a notebook that seemed like it had seen better days from thin air and held it out to Thomas, who took it carefully as though it might explode.

“What is this?” Thomas asked, looking wary about opening it, Virgil seconded that look, he wouldn’t touch that book with a ten foot pole. 

“All our ideas!” Remus giggled, “We had a big brainstorming session and filled up a big notebook of story ideas for you!”

“And this isn’t going to explode or something when I open it?” Thomas asked, still looking at the book as though it might bite him.

“Nope! You have my word!” Remus said, bowing, “Now I’ve got an adventure to get back to, cya dorks!”

Remus popped back behind the TV and sank down, leaving the four of them standing around in silence.

“I suppose we should look at this, then?” Thomas asked, looking back at the still closed notebook in his hands. 

“That may be a good idea,” Logan nodded, “If it is what Remus described, it could be useful for our planning sessions…”

—-

They weren’t able to successfully summon Roman for a week after he’d disappeared. 

By that point, Thomas and the other two had come to the conclusion that whatever had happened to him at least had something to do with the dark sides (considering one of them would show up whenever they tried to call Roman), but the theories still ranged from him being kidnapped and held hostage to the dark sides having blackmailed him into joining them or whatever crap they could come up with that painted Remus and Janus as the villains. He wondered how on earth they hadn’t realised that Roman had gone willingly yet, all the evidence was there 

When Roman finally did show up (by his own accord just as Remus had said, whilst they were meeting with Thomas and discussing something Virgil wasn’t paying attention to), his entrance was dramatic. To be fair, if you expected anything less Virgil would assume you didn’t know Roman at all. 

Remus had arrived first, popping up and immediately demanding that Virgil shuffle over so he could join him sitting on the stairs. Virgil begrudgingly did what he said, if only because he knew Remus would sit in his lap if he didn’t. Strangely, Remus was being quiet - aside from a cryptic comment when he first appeared about how Thomas might want to start filming that got Virgil feeling incredibly nervous. Despite being quiet though, Remus was still thrumming with excited energy. The guy was vibrating, Virgil was starting to get worried that he would vibrate straight through the floor if whatever he was waiting for didn’t happen soon.

“Here he comes!” Remus whispered, only just quiet enough that the others didn’t hear. Remus jostled him, shaking him back and forth by the arm and Virgil let it happen, being shaken around a little was probably better than Remus causing other kinds of havoc.

Patton yelped in surprise when Roman rose up, right in his usual spot, and immediately Virgil could tell why Remus had asked Thomas to film. Roman looked… completely different. 

His clothes had completely changed and Virgil couldn’t help but gape as Roman bowed, a grin on his face as the golden, ruby encrusted crown atop his head twinkled in the light. His normal white outfit had been switched out to a dark grey, though he still matched Remus with his red sash and gold accents as he had before, now his epaulettes were donned with golden bullion fringe, the sleeves of his tunic billowed at the wrist and at the back his tunic was tailed, not even to mention the golden boots he wore.

Roman looked like he’d been upgraded from Prince to King.

It wasn’t only that, though, even Roman himself seemed to have changed. His eyes seemed brighter, a more vivid shade of red than the brownish-red they had been before, his skin had gotten more tan and his hair longer and more wavy, differing from Thomas’ norm that light sides had all shared before. Virgil noticed when he turned his head a little that his ears now ended in sharp points and a section of his hair seemed to be part way through turning gold to mirror Remus’ silver streak. Even his fingernails seemed to be painted red and tipped with gold. The dark side really had taken him quickly. Virgil wondered how long it would be until Roman started getting his creature trait like the others, if he stayed long enough for that. 

“Roman?” Patton squeaked, eyes wide and hands clasped over his mouth. Thomas didn’t look much better, staring at Roman wide eyes, and Logan looked just as baffled in his own ways, “Is that you?”

“The one and only,” Roman said, flashing a smile and offering Patton a nod. Remus elbowed him in the arm and Virgil realised he’d just been staring this whole time, he should really say something.

“Nice look,” Virgil came up with, a small smile on his face, Roman did look good in dark colours, he wouldn’t deny it. 

“It is, isn’t it?” Roman said, still grinning, he did a little twirl, seemingly ignoring the others in the room in favour of Virgil and Remus - who clapped when he spun and whispered ‘that’s my brother!’ as though they were watching a performance. Virgil gave him a thumbs up and an approving nod and Roman seemed to glow with the praise.

“Roman?” Logan said, catching his attention, “Where have you been? What happened to your outfit?”

“I thought it was time to change things up a little,” Roman said, seemingly losing all of the shine he had when addressing him and Remus as he turned to talk to the others, “I’ve been spending time with my brother and Janus, mostly, why?”

“We’ve been worried about you, kiddo!” Patton cried, taking a step forward only for Roman to casually take a step away from him, Patton’s face fell and Virgil thought it might have been a little harsh of Roman to do that, but then again he couldn’t claim to know what Roman was going through. Virgil sighed, he really had no idea what had happened between them beyond Roman’s outburst in the video. 

“Ah, well, now you have no need to be worried,” Roman said, spreading his arms, “As you can see I am here, unharmed, and more fabulous than ever of course.”

“Does that mean you’ll be rejoining us?” Logan asked, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Nah,” Roman said, waving him off, “I’d rather not.”

“Wait what?” Patton asked, waving his hands, “‘nah’? You mean-”

“I would much rather stay downstairs,” Roman said, summoning a dagger from the air and using it to clean under his nails.

“With them?” Patton asked, voice very nearly a shriek.

“Them being my brother and Janus?” Roman said, “Yes, with them.”

“But-”

“You cannot control me anymore, Patton,” Roman said, cutting him off and standing up straight, Roman was taller than Virgil, so by all accounts far taller than Patton, to the point where he almost loomed, “Janus and I have been doing a lot of deconstruction this past week, and a surprising amount of it has centred around you!”

“I’m not- I’m not trying to control you!” Patton cried, “I just- I don’t want you to be stuck down there- it’s- it’s dangerous.”

“Considering I’m the one who’s been going there regularly for the past month, and not to mention how I’ve been down there for a week now,” Roman said, gesturing to Patton with his dagger, “I believe that I can judge whether or not it’s dangerous for myself.”

Roman paused, looking down at his knife with a look of utter carelessness. 

“Besides, even if it were dangerous, I could handle it,” Roman rolled his eyes.

“And you’re certain we can’t change your mind?” Logan asked. Thomas nodded and only then did Virgil realise he hadn’t said anything this whole time, still looking stunned.

“Certain,” Roman nodded with a small smile, “It’s interesting, you know, I thought that the dark side was some terrifying place before I went there, but all it really is is a little darker with a collectively much better fashion sense.”

“I- hey!” Virgil said, frowning.

“Never fear, Gerard Gay, you’re counted in that collective, even as an ex-dark side.” Roman said with a wink in his direction.

“Thank god,” Virgil said, rolling his eyes, “For a second I thought my jacket would be absent from your fashion hall of fame.”

“Pride of place, I assure you, right next to Jan’s bright yellow wellingtons.” Roman said, grinning. Virgil snorted.

“He still wears those?” Virgil asked, barely able to keep from laughing.

“Oh, yeah! Those are neat,” Remus giggled, before nudging Virgil again, “Hey! If you can figure out what you did to hurt Roman, maybe we’ll let you come visit!”

There it was again, the insinuation that he’d done something to hurt Roman. That paired with the comment from a few days ago… 

Of course, he’d been thinking about it every day since but he still couldn’t come up with what he must have said to make Roman think that there was any reason Virgil would stop liking him. He really had to work it out before it was too late…

“Right,” Virgil said, “I’ll have to think on that one.”

“What about us?” Logan asked, frowning slightly. Patton looked hopeful and Thomas still wore the same expression, like he couldn’t believe any of this was really happening.

“If you two so much as step into our commons I’ll let Bessie loose to rip you to shreds,” Remus said, jumping up from his seat on the stairs to step closer to them, eyes darkening a little.

“Who’s Bessie?” Virgil whispered, leaning a little closer to Roman.

“His pet kraken,” Roman whispered back, “He keeps her in his side of the imagination.”

“Oh, jeez,” Virgil said, looking back at the others. 

“You can come down if you want though, Thomas!” Remus said, grinning, “There's no gruesome death waiting for you!” 

“Good to- know,” Thomas said eventually, trying for a smile.

“I believe that is more than enough tension for one day,” Logan said firmly, cutting through said tension like a knife, “I think it would be beneficial if we held another meeting at a later date with you present as well, Roman, so we can go over what’s next for Thomas’ content.”

“You got it, specs,” Roman said with a half smile, “Now if you’ll excuse me… I believe Janus said he was making a raspberry shortcake.”

Before anyone could protest, Roman sank out with Remus quickly following suit. Virgil excused himself quickly afterwards, heading back to his room to pick up his laptop and boot up Thomas’ videos. Watching them back made him cringe a little, especially the ones from before he’d been accepted, but at the moment Virgil didn’t care. He had to work out what he’d said to make Roman think that being cared about by them was conditional, of all things. 

—-

Virgil was half asleep when he finally reached Learning New Things About Ourselves, but near the end of the song Virgil found himself sitting bolt upright, eyes wide and every thought of sleeping banished from his mind.

In almost any case we embrace you~

He must have replayed that line at least six times before shutting down his laptop and putting his head in his hands. He rubbed the heels of his palms against his eyelids, because that must be it, mustn’t it?

Why the hell had he added that ‘almost’?

----

| <- Previous Part |

#sanders sides #roman sanders #darkside!roman #sanders sides fanfiction #virgil sanders #rowans writings #ts roman #logan sanders #patton sanders #ts virgil #ts remus #remus sanders #janus sanders

[averykedavra]

A Conversation I Overheard (1/5)

It’s been a while since one of these, hasn’t it? A little one-shot turned out not-so-little and I figured it was about time to give multi-chapter fics another shot. This self-indulgent little beast is courtesy of a prompt by the lovely @tulipscomeinallsortsofcolors, which you can find here! The title and plot are entirely their creation. @sleepless-in-starbucks encouraged me to write this awhile back (read: months and months ago, because I’m slow at writing) and here I am! Finally! Better late than never. So...commence fic!

Update schedule is to be determined. This fic is on Ao3 here!

Pairings: romantic LAMP

Warnings: insecurity and self-hatred, anxiety, depressive symptoms, spiraling, a crap-ton of miscommunication, and mentions of kissing

Summary: When Roman eavesdrops on a family meeting post-wedding, he hears the last thing he expected--the sides confessing their feelings for each other. Which is lovely for them, but it means Roman is stuck as the fourth wheel. Helpful, quiet, and doing his best to keep them from remembering that they're still mad at Roman.

And doing his best to keep himself from dwelling on the heartbreak. Because of course they don’t love him. Why would they?

(or: the four times the sides tried to tell Roman they loved him, and the one time he finally believed them.)

Chapter One: Denial

First. Next. Masterlist.

Roman knew it was petty. He knew it was a petty, selfish, unchivalrous thing to do. He should treat his fellow Sides with more respect. He should own up to his mistakes. He should make like the fabulous prince he was and lead the discussion, fix everything, listen to the people who knew him best.

Roman knew it was stupid, but he couldn’t force himself to answer the door.

“Kiddo?” Patton asked for the third time. “Did you hear me? I said we’re all going to have a--family meeting. To talk about what happened. I think it would be a good idea for us all to...get things off our chest.”

Roman clutched at his sash and stared at the ceiling. If he called out, Patton wouldn’t hear him. He’d have to walk over to the door and open it. That was one excuse to stay still. That was one excuse to keep quiet.

“I know you’re upset,” Patton said. “It’s okay. We want to hear you out. Maybe we can help you work through some things.”

Roman would cry if he tried to work through things. He would start blubbering in front of everyone he knew. That was one excuse to keep the door locked.

“You don’t have to.” Patton sounded upset. He always sounded upset these days--maybe it was the door muffling his voice, or just because he was talking to Roman. “You really don’t have to, kiddo, it’s okay. I get it. You’re--perfectly within rights not to come. I don’t want to pressure you.”

They didn’t want him there. Roman would ruin the whole thing, say something cruel and hurtful as he always did, and leave the situation worse than it started. That was one excuse to stay away.

“I get it,” Patton said, his voice barely making it through the door. “Janus won’t be there, and it will be calm, and we’ll talk things out. I get your hesitation, kiddo. It’s okay. I’d just--love if you gave us a chance.”

Would they give Roman a chance? How many chances were left until Roman ran out? What were the conditions of this chance--did he need to look better, act better, be better? He’d barely managed to put on makeup this morning. That was one excuse to stay inside.

“I guess that’s all I have to say.” Patton laughed a bit. “Maybe you’re asleep, and I’m just talking to myself. That’d be pretty silly of me, wouldn’t it?”

Roman was tired. He’d been tired for weeks. He was always tired. That was one excuse to avoid the meeting.

He had so, so many excuses.

They were probably the only things he was creative at.

“Well...goodbye, I guess?” Patton hesitated. Roman could see his shadow under the door. “Talk to you later, kiddo. My invitation stands.”

The shadow flickered and vanished. Roman didn’t move from his bed, splayed on the red-and-white quilt, staring at the ceiling.

They’d be arranged on the couch when the meeting started. He could picture it well enough. Logan in the armchair, Patton on the couch, Virgil on the arm of the couch--or, if he was stressed, the top of it. He probably would be stressed. They all would be. Patton would be worrying the sleeves of his hoodie, and Virgil would be chewing on his nails, and Logan would be shifting his thermos between his hands or drumming his fingers on his knee. Maybe they’d invite Thomas. Maybe Patton would double back and invite Janus after all.

It didn’t matter, though, because Roman wasn’t going.

Patton would start the family meeting. He always read the minutes, as it was, and thanked everyone for coming. Virgil usually bristled at the gratitude. Logan always returned it. Roman always bowed with a little twirl of his hand--ridiculously dramatic--and if Thomas was there, he’d smile with his nervous smile. It was a combination of Patton’s optimism and Virgil’s anxiety. Roman could always see them in Thomas, because he knew them so well, he knew where every jagged edge fit together.

Roman remembered how the family meetings always went. A problem, a discussion, a solution. It wasn’t like it was in videos. Videos were for Thomas issues. Family meetings were for family issues. There was often overlap, which made it common to pregame a video with a quick discussion, or to pile onto the couches when a video was concluded. In Roman’s memory, which was often wrong, this meeting was almost two weeks after the disastrous wedding. Two weeks was the longest time between a video and a meeting that Roman could remember. Two weeks was far too long, and yet, not long enough.

He’d known this was coming. He’d prepared himself. He’d even rehearsed apologies, perfectly crafted to gain sympathy--and what kind of manipulative person did that? Who tried that hard for affection? He couldn’t be truly accepted, truly loved, unless they knew the truth about Roman.

Except Roman couldn’t bear to let his walls down. He couldn’t bear to see the looks on their faces, if they knew everything--how much he failed, how much he wasn’t who they needed, how much he felt for them.

He couldn’t even imagine apologizing without his stomach flipping.

He wondered what they would talk about. He knew how the meetings usually went, but he wondered what would fit into the format, what would make Patton wince or Virgil shift on the couch. He wondered what solution they would find. They always found a solution. Sometimes it took several hours, but they did. Roman was usually the largest obstacle.

Maybe they would solve things easier, if he wasn’t there.

Or would they? If Roman was the problem, could they really find a solution without talking to him? Would they pass judgment on him while he sat in his room, alone, or would they dance around the issue? Pretend they weren’t missing anyone? Pretend everything was fine?

Roman glanced at his closed door. Patton would be downstairs. The meeting would be starting. He could picture the way they’d tug each other into a group hug at the end, or the way Virgil curled into himself when anxious, or the cute way Logan always bit his lip when thinking--he knew them so well, but he could see a million ways for the conversation to go. There were too many blank spaces between lines. Too many ways for the story to end.

Would they knock on his door later? Tell him what happened? Tell him--tell him they’d decided, that Roman needed to leave, that he was better off on the other side of the Mindscape? That they’d made a mistake in trying to be his friend?

Roman ran his hands down his arms and pressed his fingers into his skin. Chin up. Act like a prince. He wasn’t in the mood to cry again, although if everyone was busy downstairs, he had the least odds of being heard.

He felt greasy. Maybe it was because of the clothes he’d slept in for three days, or his unshowered and unbrushed hair, or the distinct lack of vegetables in his recent diet. He’d avoided eating with the others. He’d avoided the others in general.

He had no idea what they were talking about downstairs. What was so unimportant--so important--that Roman didn’t need to attend? Perhaps they were simply nice enough to leave him be, but he could hardly believe there wouldn’t be another shoe to fall.

Something would happen. Roman just couldn’t decide on what.

Curiosity gnawed at his empty stomach.

He didn’t want to be unprepared. He should get ready, should prepare an apology, should pack his things--his room was teetering with cushions and lace, and he winced at the prospect of cleaning it out. If he knew what they were planning, if he knew who he would face, he’d be ready.

Patton would be painfully nice. Roman could talk him out of banishment if he tried--a horrible thought. An evil thought. Roman could never manipulate Patton like that, could never take advantage of his trusting nature or the guilt he was sure to feel. So he’d stay silent. He’d let Patton stumble through platitudes before saying “sorry, Roman, but you have to go.”

Roman would smile and nod. He’d let Patton hug him, if Patton wanted, if that made Patton feel better. Or maybe Patton wouldn’t touch him. He certainly hadn’t in weeks.

Roman rubbed his arms.

Logan would be painfully clinical. If Logan decided something, it was almost impossible to change his mind--see every argument Roman had with him ever. He’d share his evidence, if Roman asked, if Roman was brave enough to ask. Maybe he’d even let Roman argue a point or two. But it wouldn’t change anything. It never did.

Roman would bite back his retorts. He’d avoid saying goodbye. If he did, he’d get choked up. Crying in front of anyone would be humiliating, and Logan would be more so.

Roman swallowed.

Virgil would--he could barely imagine a scenario where Virgil would have the courage to kick him out alone. But maybe Virgil wanted to do it himself. Maybe Virgil would shuffle his feet on the carpet, hands deep in his pockets. Maybe he’d chew his lip. Roman would reassure him, calm him down, coax a relieved smile out of him--and then he’d tell Roman to leave.

It was more likely that Virgil would have backup. Maybe Logan and Virgil, since Logan always calmed Virgil down--or Patton and Logan? Patton might want that logical reassurance. Or Patton and Virgil, if they wanted to be as emotional as possible. Or all three.

Roman didn’t know. It could be any of them, and Roman wasn’t ready.

If only he knew what to expect.

Roman glanced at the door.

The hallway was quiet. Roman slid on his socks past the doors, and paused at the stairs to gather information and courage. He could hear murmured conversation below--stops and starts, sounding hesitant. How long had it been since they started? He’d forgotten to check the time. All he could make out were singular vowels. Nothing concrete.

Roman inched closer to the top of the stairs, trying to stay out of sight. If he could get to the kitchen, he’d be hidden, but how could he get past--

Oh. Roman almost laughed at his stupidity. The next second, he appeared in the kitchen.

To avoid being spotted, he’d decided to sit on the floor, leaning against the counter. The kitchen tiles were cold under his feet. He wrapped his arms around his chest. With bated breath, he waited, but nobody entered the kitchen. Nobody said his name. The living room was silent.

Roman let out a long breath. He was already regretting this. What prince eavesdropped on his companions? If he was caught, he’d get an earful. Or worse--a disappointed look from Patton. Roman shuddered at the thought. Patton was exceedingly good at the disappointed look.

He didn’t want to move, or he might alert them. That was enough of an excuse to stay still and listen.

“...can’t keep putting this off,” Patton was saying when Roman tuned in. “I’ve given you all time, and I get that you need it, but we can’t just glare at each other forever! We have to actually talk about this.”

“Not now,” Virgil argued. “Roman’s not even here.”

“Roman--needs space.”

“So Roman gets space, but I don’t?” Virgil didn’t sound angry, at least to Roman. He just sounded upset. “How’s that fair?”

“You agreed to be here,” Patton said, with patience. “If you want to leave at any time, you can--”

“Cool--”

“But I think it would be a good idea for you to stay. If you want.”

“This is highly confusing,” Logan said. Roman tried not to overanalyze the entire situation, but Logan’s voice was clipped, strained in the wrong ways.

“Look,” Patton said with a sigh, “I’m trying to find a compromise. This isn’t easy and I’m pretty sure I’m messing some part of it up, but even an imperfect conversation is still a conversation. And we need one of those, guys. We really do.”

Roman heard the sound of a zipper. Virgil was probably pulling at the zippers on his sleeves.

“You’re doing fine,” Logan said. Reassuring and reluctant and quiet.

“Thanks,” Patton said. Reluctant and quiet.

“What now?” Virgil asked. Quiet.

It was just quiet for a long time, long enough for Roman’s knees to start aching. He didn’t move. He didn’t want to break the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Patton said.

Both Logan and Virgil started to say something, but their words jumbled together and they both went quiet.

“I’ve messed up a lot,” Patton continued, chuckling a bit. “Gosh, it’s been a lot. And that’s hurt you guys, and I’m sorry. So--maybe I’m going about this all wrong. I know you don’t really want to be here, but...I want to listen to you more. All of you. I’d like to hear what you have to say.”

Virgil mumbled something that Roman didn’t catch. It must have been something self-deprecating, because Patton clucked at him, and Logan murmured something back.

“So I’m giving you the floor. Even though it’s Thomas’.” Patton chuckled more at his own joke. Roman caught a snicker from Virgil as well. “Just...say what’s on your mind, okay?”

Another long moment of silence.

“Uh, who goes first?” Virgil asked. “Do we like, pick straws, or--”

“You can go first,” Logan said quickly.

“Dude! Don’t feed me to the wolves!”

“No wolves,” Patton reassured them. “You can go in any order you want.”

Virgil huffed. “Shouldn’t Princey be here?”

“If Roman doesn’t want to be here, we can’t make him,” Logan said with a touch of irritation. “I’d rather have a calm conversation with three people than an argument with four.”

Roman curled a bit further into a ball on the kitchen floor.

“Jury’s still out on calm,” Virgil muttered. “Yeah. So--me?”

“You don’t have to,” Logan said.

“But go for it,” Patton added.

“Yeah. Okay.” Virgil took a deep breath. If Roman listened closely, he could hear the faint rasp of an echo in his voice. “So--the wedding, huh? That was something. That happened.”

“Yes,” Logan said, when Virgil didn’t continue. “It did happen.”

“Yeah, I--ugh.” Virgil groaned. “I don’t know where to start. What to talk about, or whatever. Don’t you guys have any specific questions?”

“Uh--” Patton made a noncommittal noise. “I don’t wanna limit you, Virge.”

“I could use some limitations right about now.”

“Alright.” Roman could picture what Patton was doing--gesturing at Virgil like he was handing over his words on a platter. “How did the wedding make you feel?”

“Bad,” Virgil said.

“Good start,” Patton encouraged. “And?”

“It was like--” Virgil sucked in a breath and let it out. “Like I didn’t want to get involved, right after, ‘cause you guys seemed pretty busy and all. I was just trying not to freak out. Logan let me in his room, which was nice--”

Logan made a small noise. Maybe of surprise.

“--and that helped, but he was also talking to you guys so I couldn’t really avoid the whole thing, and then--” Virgil paused. Roman could just make out a muttered four-seven-eight, maybe from Patton, maybe from Logan. “And it was. Not fun. I wanted to help out, Pat, you seemed so upset and I really did want to--and--and Roman was upset, and Logan was telling me he could handle it--”

“That was…” Logan paused, but Virgil didn’t say anything else. “A bit of an error on my part.”

“Not your fault you got impersonated, L.”

Patton made a small noise. “I am really sorry about that, Logan.”

“Not your fault he got impersonated, either.”

“I could have noticed,” Patton said unconvincingly. “And I did press the skip button.”

“You did,” Logan said.

Silence fell.

“Uh--is it still my turn?” Virgil asked. “Did I--am I done?”

“I don’t--” Patton sighed. “This isn’t working either, is it.”

Nobody argued with him.

“Have we ever found a conversation tactic that does work?” Logan pointed out, sounding uncharacteristically glum. “Have we ever managed to fix every problem at hand, without simultaneously exacerbating several others?”

“I don’t think so,” Virgil said.

“It was rhetorical.” Logan sighed. “My point is that we’re stuck in a loop. We do this every time, and we’ve never managed to successfully communicate the root issues.”

“We’ve gotten better,” Patton said.

“Have we?”

Quiet again. Roman was beginning to stiffen in his position, and one of his feet was falling asleep. Roman shifted it as quietly as possible. It tingled.

“And I thought I was supposed to be the pessimist,” Virgil teased. It fell flat. “Look, L, I don’t think we should scrap the whole thing just because it doesn’t fix everything flat out--”

“But there has to be something we’re missing.” Patton’s voice was determined. “Logan’s right. There’s stuff at play deep down here, and we’ve never talked about it, because--because we don’t know how to get those real answers. Because we don’t know what questions to ask. So we need answers to the questions that we don’t know need answers.”

“You lost me,” Virgil said.

“He’s saying we should try to cut to the figurative heart of the issue.” Logan paused. “I agree, in theory.”

“Oh.” Virgil paused. “Stop--lying?”

Roman gripped his knees tightly.

“Lying has a place and time,” Patton said. “But--you know, there’s a reason why I didn’t invite Janus, right? He’s a good friend and an important part of Thomas. But he’s not--you guys. You guys are different. And--and I don’t think we can have true love if our relationship isn’t based on truth.”

“True love,” Virgil repeated with a snicker. “We’re not each other’s Disney princes, Pat.”

Logan snickered too. “I’m sure Roman would disagree.”

“We love each other!” Patton protested. “I--I love you guys, at least. I love you.”

“I know,” Virgil said after a moment, his voice bittersweet. “I know, Pat. You’re a good friend.”

A very long pause.

“We ought to do something about that,” Logan said, “shouldn’t we?”

“Do something--” Virgil laughed. “What are you--”

“Patton said we ought to be honest,” Logan said. Pointedly. “I also think it would be a good idea. For both of you.”

“What?” Patton sounded confused, but it was only the sound of confusion, not the real thing. “What’s up, Lo?”

“Yeah, L,” Virgil said, both an invitation and a warning. “What are you saying?”

A brief pause. Roman pictured Logan fiddling with his glasses and almost smiled.

“I have to admit this is not my area of expertise,” Logan said, his voice quiet. “However, I think observations have painted a clear picture of the situation. Our--issues with each other are myriad, and stem from a variety of sources, but it is as Patton said. We need to be honest. I believe there’s a very clear culprit for some of our communication issues, and I think you know what it is.”

Silence. Roman’s stomach was slowly dropping to the floor. He bit his lip and tried to stop himself from sinking out. He still needed to hear what they decided--although, the more the conversation continued, the more he felt like he was intruding. Things were getting personal. This wasn’t his place.

As if he heard Roman’s thoughts, Virgil blurted out “Should we really talk about this right now? While Roman’s--”

“We can think about that later,” Logan said. “I think the three of us need to admit a few things.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about.” Patton giggled weakly. “We can’t all keep up with you and your brain, Lo.”

Logan paused for too long to be natural. He was worried. Roman wondered what worried him--he should sink out now, before things got personal, but his feet were rooted to the kitchen floor--

“We aren’t friends,” Logan said.

“Uh, dude,” Virgil began, “you might wanna--”

“We aren’t just friends.” Logan let out a breath. “You know that.”

Roman needed to go. He wasn’t meant to hear this part. His breath was already catching in his throat. How dare he ruin this moment, how dare he toss himself into a private conversation, how dare his legs refuse to move--

“What are you talking about?” Virgil’s voice was harsh. Too harsh, not only for the conversation, but for Virgil. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Yes, you do,” Logan said. “You know there are other things at play, it’s foolish to deny--”

“I’m not denying anything!”

“We’re not just friends!” Logan almost yelled. “The evidence is practically a mountain--we have sleepovers every weekend! We eat breakfast together!”

“Yeah, we’re friends!” Virgil fired back. “That’s normal friend stuff!”

“We’re family,” Patton amended, the first time he’d spoken. His voice was hollow. “Besides, it’s always just been us, of course we’re different.”

“We’re different,” Logan agreed. “Virgil falls asleep on your shoulder. You give us forehead kisses. We cuddle. That isn’t platonic.”

“And what’s your evidence, wise guy?” Virgil’s voice pitched upwards. “Platonic is weird! Romantic is weird! How are you supposed to instantly tell the difference?”

“I’m simply stating that there could be something else at play!”

“You’re my only friends!” Virgil burst out. “I don’t have anything else to compare it to--it’s normal. All of it. How I feel--it’s normal.”

Logan’s voice suddenly quieted. “And how do you feel?”

“Normal,” Virgil said.

Patton still hadn’t said anything else. Roman would have peeked around to see if he was okay, if he could remember how to move, how to think.

“Normal,” Virgil repeated. “It’s--we’re friends. We love each other. It’s normal.”

Logan hummed. “You were friends with Deceit, correct?”

“Janus,” Patton said faintly. Nobody acknowledged him.

“No,” Virgil said. “Yes. Kind of. It’s complicated.”

“Would you ever be comfortable with cuddling him?”

“I hate him.”

“We’re working under the assumption that you do not.”

“Look, I--it’s complicated.” Virgil huffed. “I wouldn’t be, but that’s because I hate him, and I’ve always been way more comfortable with you guys anyway, ‘cause I don’t have to act--mean, or whatever. You guys are different than him. Always have been.”

“Different,” Logan said.

“Yeah, because I literally hate him--” Virgil groaned. “Look, L, don’t make patterns where there aren’t any. It’s fine. We’re--we’re friends.”

“Logan has a point.” Patton’s words came out in a rush, like he’d been bottling them up. “He has a point.”

Logan made a surprised noise. “I do?”

“Et tu, Brute?” Virgil’s voice softened. “You think so?”

“Janus is really nice,” Patton said. “We’ve been talking for a while now, ever since--well, everything. I’ve appreciated his support. He makes me laugh. And--and he’s not like you guys. Not just because he’s a newer friend. You’re all different.” His voice dipped. “You’ve always been different to me.”

A long, long silence. Roman couldn’t feel his legs, or his lungs, or his heart.

“This isn’t my area of expertise,” Logan said. Quietly, quietly. “I suppose there really isn’t any way to tell, objectively, what we--are to each other. All I can say is, to me, you are a lot. Not everything--I don’t believe anyone could be everything--but...more than on average. More than I’ve admitted to myself.”

“You’re kidding,” Virgil blurted out, an edge of hysterical laughter in his voice. “You’re--that’s not it, that can’t be it, you can’t--”

“Doesn’t it make sense?” Patton pleaded, his words all in a rush again. “It--it doesn’t have to, gosh, I know it doesn’t have to, but if you could give it a chance--”

“A chance?” Virgil repeated incredulously. “We’re not--we’re not--”

“I’m sorry,” Patton said. Quietly. Roman was so tired of quiet. “I’m really sorry, Virgil.”

“You’re--you’re serious.” Virgil sounded inches from a panic attack. “You’re--”

“We can all take a moment to think,” Logan suggested, sounding inches from his own. “We can--we can take time to process, it’s fine, we don’t have to work this out right now--we can forget this ever happened--”

“It’ll be okay,” Patton said. Maybe to Virgil. Maybe to Logan. Maybe to himself. “We’ll handle this. We always do.”

“You’re--” Virgil’s voice broke. “I love you.”

“Love you too, Virge,” Patton said. Quietly, quietly, too quietly for Roman to sneak away. “You’re the coolest emo around.”

“No.” Virgil’s voice pitched frantic again. “No, no--I love you guys, don’t I? I--you’ve always been there for me, and you always looked after me, and Logan always calms me down and Pat, you always make me smile, and--”

“You don’t have to do this,” Logan murmured. “I understand that I miscalculated, you don’t need to--”

“No!” Virgil might have laughed. Or sobbed, it was hard to tell. “No, L, you genius, you got it exactly right.”

Roman swallowed and realized his mouth was dry.

“I love you!” Virgil said, triumphantly, like he’d solved everything. Like everything made sense. Maybe it did. “I love you, I love you so much--what am I even saying, this is so stupid--I love you, I was an idiot, I didn’t--”

“I--” Patton laughed breathlessly. “Virgil--”

“Do you--” Virgil’s voice dipped. “Do you--”

“I love you too,” Patton said, as if it was the first time he’d ever said it. Maybe it was.

“I--” Logan coughed awkwardly. “Not to seem obtuse, but can we clarify if--”

“If you’re included in the ‘you’?” Virgil laughed. “L, obviously, it wouldn’t be the same without you.”

“Ah.” Was Logan blushing? He sounded like it. Roman would be ecstatic to witness a flustered Logan, if he was not currently frozen and terrified. “That--ah. I...likewise, I hold an amount of affection towards you that is commonly considered romantic. So to speak.”

“Aww!” Patton cooed. “Really?”

“Yes, really!” Logan said. “I think we’ve established that we all love each other! I think that’s clear!”

“Always has been, I’m just an idiot.” Was Virgil smiling? He sounded like it. Oh, if only Roman was able to appreciate it. “Y’know, it’s been...an understood thing.”

“Yeah,” Patton said. “Yeah, I know what you mean.”

Silence.

“This doesn’t solve anything,” Logan said, as if he was obligated to point out the flaws. As if he couldn’t let himself enjoy the moment yet. “We still have much to discuss, not least--”

“I know, I know.” Patton was smiling, Roman could hear it, and it made Roman’s chest hurt. “But it’ll help, that we were honest--and aren’t you guys happy? That we can--”

“Do what?” Virgil asked, when Patton petered out.

“Be...together,” Patton finished. “If you want.”

Roman’s stomach twisted in Celtic knots. He shook his foot, almost hoping that they’d hear him and stop talking--and then he could distract them, remind them of him and why they’d started this meeting in the first place, ruin their moment like always--

“I’d like that,” Logan said.

“Yeah,” Virgil said. “Me too.”

And then it was entirely the wrong kind of quiet. A movement or two, then quiet--and Roman could come to all sorts of conclusions, imagine them clearly in his head, but he settled on the obvious one. He cursed his mind for supplying him with a clear mental picture. Oh, so he couldn’t think of a video idea in a week, but now his imagination worked?

The quiet stretched on longer. Too long. Too long and Roman was itching at the seams, thumbing at his sash, regretting ever stepping foot out of his room.

But it was fine. It was fine. He’d just leave now.

If they were doing what he thought they were, they probably wouldn’t notice.

Roman steeled himself, pushed himself onto his knees, and stood up. As quickly as possible. Raise his hand. Teleport. It was easy--like reaching out and plucking a string, tensing a muscle, lighting a fire. A flourish of the hand, and the kitchen slipped out of reach, and he didn’t want to see the others, but he did--Patton beaming, and Virgil covering his smile with his hand, and Logan tilting his head forward and then Roman closed his eyes because he didn’t want to see, he didn’t--

But, well, he could imagine.

His room was empty. When he flopped into the same position he’d started the day in, and covered his head with his blanket, he could almost pretend he hadn’t left. That he’d dreamed the whole thing. That they weren’t downstairs, right now, holding hands, cupping cheeks and--

Roman yelled something inaudible into his pillow.

He should be happy for them. He should be happy--and he was! He was happy for them. They deserved each other. They were his best friends--his friends--his--

They were...something, that was for sure.

They deserved each other.

Roman should be happy.

It would be good for the family, now that they were no longer on bad terms. Roman couldn’t count the number of awkward glances they’d had over the years. Maybe this had finally helped to clear the air. That was one excuse to be happy for them.

Roman thrived off romance. He could hardly turn down the opportunity to support such a cute couple, especially when they were so adorably awkward in their confessions. That was another excuse to be happy for them.

It would take the pressure off him. They seemed to have entirely forgotten their meeting’s goal, which included deciding whether Roman deserved to stay. Maybe they’d keep forgetting. Maybe the beauty of love would soften their hearts towards him, and Roman could scrape by on table scraps and glancing smiles, surviving on the edges once again. They’d tolerate him. They’d forget he existed, because they’d be enamored with each other, exactly as they deserved.

That was another excuse to be happy.

And they wanted this. They’d clearly pined for so long, and now they had what they wanted, they had each other--Roman was thrilled for them, ecstatic, over the moon. It felt right, somehow, to see them all together. The perfect fairytale ending. If this was their happy ending, who was Roman to stand in their way?

Did he want to be more of a villain?

No. He couldn’t ruin yet another perfect thing. He just had to suck it up and be chivalrous. He wasn’t their hero, wasn’t their friend, wasn’t their--wasn’t theirs. He was nothing but a fourth wheel.

We love you.

Right.

Roman pressed his hands to his eyes to stop the tears. There was no reason to cry. This was fine. He should be happy. He’d faked happy for years and years, why was this what he couldn’t handle? What had he expected? He didn’t get a consolation prize after what he’d done. He didn’t rescue the dashing princes. He hadn’t earned his happy ending, and now he was alone in his room, while the three most important people in his life found solace in each other.

And it was fine.

They were happy.

So Roman would be happy, too. Roman would be everything they needed him to be. Roman would make the most of this, and he would be a good friend and a good person, even if it killed him. No bitterness. No jealousy. No longing for something he knew he didn’t deserve.

No excuses.

They were in love. They were happy. And that was enough.

If Roman truly loved them, he would let that be enough.

But, well, Roman didn’t truly do much of anything. And he spent most of the day in a pile on his pillows, ignoring the knocks on his door, and getting absolutely nothing done. He was out of ideas and out of passion. Whenever he closed his eyes, all he could imagine was being shoved out his door, and the soft look in his best friends’ eyes as they kissed each other on the living room couch.

But it was fine, Roman was fine, and everything was fine.

Princes didn’t complain. Princes moved on. Princes were gracious and helpful in the face of true love.

Princes got true love.

Roman wasn’t much of a prince, though. And it was fine. He was fine.

Everything was so incredibly fine.

When Roman finally fell asleep, his last thought was worry--that he’d summoned Janus with all his lying. But Janus didn’t appear. It was just Roman, slipping into dreams on his rumpled quilt, glad of an excuse to stop thinking.

First. Next. Masterlist.

General taglist:

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

@thatoneloudowl

@jungle321jungle

@mistythegenderqueermess

@k1ngtok1

@joylessnightsky

@elizabutgayer

@ohheavenlylord

@enby-ralsei

@remy-the-lemon-berry

@drarrymalecsolangelo

@riptide-123

@fander-fic-recs

@multi-fandoms-posts

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@katelynn-a-fan  @dwbh888 @royal-stormcloud @awkwardjester @smileyzs @robinwritesshitposts @thatgaydemigodnerd @callboxkat @potatsanderssides @idont-freaking-know​ @nonasficcollection @supernovainthenightsky @evoodo123  @hekking-happy-nonsense @cottonwoolsocks @aceawkwardunicorn @somehow-i-got-an-account @grouptalekindnesssoul @the-hoely-bleach @anvil527up @fanficloverinthesun @brain-deadx0 @the-grounded-raven @a-fandom-trashdump @demoniccheese83

Ask to be included (on a specific taglist for this fic, or my general one)!

#roman sanders #sanders sides #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders angst #lamp #romantic lamp #averywrites #a conversation i overheard #if i don't update all the links/masterlists/everything before i go to bed #shhhh u didnt see that #i'll organize it all in the morning i promise djbhgsfshsj

[clearlynotjanus]

Loceit Appreciation Week: Day Four, Debate

READ ON AO3

Chapter Summary: Tired of the neglect he experiences at the hands of staunch Morality, when Janus is sent to the Dark Side, Logan attempts to follow some years later. CW: Food mention, Moceit fight Word Count: 3448 Genre: Gen, Hurt/comfort Rating: Gen Ships: Platonic Loceit

taglist: @sanderssidesangsttrash​​​ @catalinaacosta​​​ @whatishappeningrightnow​​​ @anxiousbean4404​​​ @vexelore​​​ @the-dead-and-the-decaying​​​ @serpentinesomebody​​​ @poptartsaysurloved​​​ @robertdownerjr​​​ @dangitsbrightinhere​​​ @iamuncomffy​​​ @sanderdarksides​​​ @evertriedsoywithyourpopcorn​​​ @dragonfander @virgilstarantula​​​ @a-rudethude @indubitably-emo @gay-artist-626​​​ @cosplayhanna​​​ @edupunkn00b​​​ @wouldntyou-liketoknow​​​ @awesomerandomgirl1​​​ @rizzyluke​​​ @sevencrashing​​​ @all-panic-nodisco​​​​ ​​​

To support my writing, consider subscribing to my Patreon or checking out my Ko-fi.

Though Logic and Self Preservation never had the chance to spend very much time together before the older boy’s disappearance, the conversations they did have were constructive, engaging, and supportive. Which was quite the opposite of what the others had to offer as the years dragged on. During the six that followed the unfortunate event, Logic found himself dismissed and belittled at every turn. Eight years old at the time, he didn’t exactly understand what had happened to his friend. It was confusing, and no one seemed willing to talk about it. The other Creativity mourned like Self Preservation was dead. Fear didn’t seem to notice. Morality cringed whenever Logic brought it up. He didn’t understand.

Time went on well enough then. Eight years old turned into nine, then ten, then eleven; then Fear morphed into Anxiety and the other Creativity disappeared. Even Logic could have called that one -- and he had. If only Morality listened to him and his advocating for the curly haired Creativity’s ideas. If only Fear had let him help more instead of jumping to improbable conclusions. All of it was a shame and it made Logic’s stomach hurt. He had liked that Creativity.

Eleven, twelve, and thirteen passed; then Anxiety disappeared as well, giving Logic a foreboding sense of loneliness. He didn't get along perfectly with Anxiety, but still. It felt like the Sides were dropping like flies. At this rate, Thomas would be more Dark than Light, Creativity said. Morality told them that was nonsense; as long as they three stayed good, Thomas would be fine. But Logic couldn’t help thinking this one was more his fault than the last. Perhaps if he had better communicated reality to Anxiety, things could’ve been different. Morality assured him it had nothing to do with anything like that; Anxiety just couldn’t be worked with. That didn’t sound right.

Through the beginning of his teenage years, the dismissal deepened. Too young, too inexperienced, too angry, too serious, too silly. No matter what Logic did, he couldn’t get through to them -- especially Morality, who seemed adamant that he had no idea what he was doing yet. The arguments ranged from petty to serious. No, Logic would say, Thomas can’t afford another Lego set, Morality, he has to save for textbooks next semester. No, Thomas shouldn’t have extra dessert just because he did his laundry today; he just had cake yesterday and God knows why. Irresponsibility began to overwhelm Thomas as he indulged in his Feelings more. He daydreamed a more fulfilling life, as he’d have himself convinced, through Creativity’s delusions. Logic was never considered. In fact, Logic was bad for insinuating everyone else was wrong.

At fourteen, Logic had had enough. One morning he woke up and decided he didn’t belong with the others -- with Creativity and Morality. He belonged with Self Preservation and the other Creativity. The one that he liked and the older boy who had always listened to him. The thought of enduring another day of disagreements and neglect dried his throat, so as the sun rose, he sunk out.

The Dark Side was, well, dark. Logic didn’t know what he expected but couldn’t find it in him to be surprised. He went to turn on the living room light but curiously found the switch already flipped, the bulb already illuminated. He went to open the blinds and found them already drawn. Rather than foreboding, as Self Preservation found it upon his initial arrival all those years ago, Logic found it fascinating. Not fascinating enough to keep his stomach growling though. Were the others already awake? Did they not have breakfast over here? Perhaps he was just early.

Unceremoniously, Logic grabbed himself a bowl, a box of cereal, and milk from the fridge to construct his breakfast -- a task Morality had always insisted he do for Logic until recently, when he spitefully went a full month of refusing to eat anything Morality made him. He was old enough to make his own breakfasts and lunches, thank you very much. 

“You’re up early,” A voice followed the sound of footsteps down the stairs. “Are you making breakfast for once, Vir--” Janus’ words and feet came to an abrupt end when he reached the bottom landing and his eyes rested on Logan; the teen was small but bigger than Janus remembered, bigger than he was the last time they had spoken for sure. He did the mental math quickly -- it’d been six years since he left the Light Side, Logan had been about eight at the time and had always been six years Janus’ junior; so the boy was fourteen. Logan’s back was ramrod straight at their table as he mindlessly sucked Cheerios off a spoon. Across the room, the television droned the news, but Janus was unable to hear it due to the ringing that pierced his ears.

“Good morning, Self Preservation,” Logan greeted after he swallowed, as casually as anything despite his stare that lasted a second too long. He noted the shine on one half of Janus’ face; the way one pupil had slit and changed colors. Fascinating -- but was he okay? He seemed okay at least.

“Self Preservation?” Janus said with a mask of amused absurdity. “When I left I was Prezzi.” The conversation was good, distracting enough to quell his panic as he glanced up the stairs again. Logic’s room hadn’t appeared -- or perhaps he had missed it?

“Sorry, I didn’t know if you still liked being called that,” Logan explained down at his cereal and Janus felt his heart breaking.

“Of course I do,” His brows knitted earnestly at the boy, a hand clutching his collar as though it choked him. Again he glanced up the stairs. “If you’re alright,” Janus took a step back, “For just a moment. I’ve forgotten something, I’ll--”

“My room isn’t here,” Logan’s voice edged with annoyance as he clinked his spoon against the bowl. “I tried everything and it just wouldn’t move,” He mumbled as he aggressively stabbed a Cheerio.

“You tried to make it move?” Janus’ voice gained a shrillness. He couldn’t believe the boy’s audaciousness! “Logan,” He reprimanded sternly but to no avail. The boy continued to sluice quiet mayhem through his cereal and Janus was at a loss. 

He glanced up the stairs a final time. It was early, Virgil wouldn’t come out of his room for a couple hours at least, if he did at all that day. His mind quietly asked what Remus would be doing, forgetting for a moment in the emotional chaos that he had run away to the Imagination months ago. Janus sighed and crossed the room.

“So,” He said in a decidedly conversational tone as he sat down at the table. “Anything interesting happening today?” He gestured at the television and Logan shrugged. Janus frowned. The topic of why he was here would have to be breached eventually, but as long as the Subconscious was refusing to move Logan’s room, Janus didn’t think it was an emergency. What was an emergency, however, was the poor boy’s emotional state.

“Do you want more cereal?” Janus offered quietly as he eyed the nearly empty bowl. Surely the Cheerios that were left were too soggy to be enjoyed at this point.

“I can get it myself,” Logan nearly spat with a venom Janus hadn’t heard from him yet. His brows raised, both concerned and entertained. 

The Logic he knew would never use such a tone, the contrast was almost funny. Though Logan hadn’t changed completely he noticed; Janus had several memories of Logan insisting he could do something himself. From climbing on counters for scissors he definitely shouldn’t have been using, to pulling bookshelves down instead of asking one of the older Sides to get a book for him, to stubbornly using the side of his fork with both hands to cut a piece of chicken when he would refuse help with dinner. But it would all be done with apologies and explanations, assurances that he’d be safer next time, growing understanding that though his mind was large, he was still small.

“Logan,” Janus said patiently, the humor in his expression dissolving to reveal patience and worry. The boy grit his teeth and continued to glare narrow eyes down at his cereal bowl. “Why did you come here?” Janus asked softly, leaning forward to try and meet Logan’s eyes. 

Then Logan remembered that in the short time they had been on the same side of the Mindscape together, Self Preservation had always listened to him. He had always been there to turn to when the others ignored him. Remembering this made his anger ebb away, though with that, the sadness he had been trying to ignore washed ashore. The hardness in his expression softened, but he still refused to look up.

“Morality and Creativity don’t listen to me,” Logan admitted quietly and shame filled his stomach, colliding with his breakfast in a way that made him nauseous. “I’ve tried everything but Morality always says I’m too young to tell him what to do,” His brow twitched and Janus watched as his sad expression morphed back into something more callous. 

The sight hurt his heart, but mostly it made anger warm his chest. What on earth was Patton doing? The root of all their issues so far had been a distinct lack of listening. From fighting with Janus over developing moral stances, to stubbornly refusing to consider nuance in the pursuit of art and self expression, to the apathetic dismissal of welling fear and anxiety as adulthood approached -- was there anyone Patton listened to? 

“So you came here,” Janus sighed, attempting and somewhat failing to keep the rage out of his tone. “Because I had always listened to you,” He guessed but then Logan shrugged and shook his head.

“Sort of,” He replied and Janus blinked curiously. Had he missed something? “Mostly I just assumed this is where we came when Patton hated us.”

The straightforward words punched Janus in the gut, knocking the wind out of him like he had just unexpectedly stepped off a building and was now free falling with panicked arms that reached for anything to hold on to. As usual, Logic’s assessment wasn’t incorrect. In a way, this was where the Sides Morality didn’t like ended up; but it was deeper than that. At least Janus had to hope it was deeper than that, or else he’d never find it in himself to forgive his closest friend. Janus swallowed his hurt and sat up, shoving his shaking hands under the table. It wasn’t Logan’s fault and he wouldn’t hold the injury against him, though he did need a moment for a deep breath before he was able to find his voice again.

“Patton doesn’t hate you,” Janus reassured baselessly on reflex, but then he stopped. He couldn’t think of anything else to say that wasn’t just blatantly lying -- which, of course, he had no issues with, but it was a sad realization, nevertheless. 

“Then why doesn’t he listen to me?” Logan asked as Janus faltered. “Why did he send you and Anxiety and Remus away?” He looked around the shadowed room as he spoke before meeting Janus’ eyes again. “Creativity calls this the Dark Side which implies that he and Morality make up some sort of Lighter half,” Janus’ hands became unsteady once more as Logan continued asking questions he didn’t necessarily have answers to. At least no answers he wanted to admit. “But if they’re just going to keep dismissing me, then I don’t want any part in that,” He said decisively and pushed his cereal bowl away like it contained the subject matter. “If being a Dark Side means being listened to, then that’s what I’ll be.”

“No, you won’t,” Janus said much harder than he meant to, making Logan’s eyes shoot up. “You’re going back,” he said resolutely, leaving no room for misinterpretation in his tone. Logan opened his mouth but then Janus stood, the chair squeaking loudly against the floor. “If Patton did actually hate you as he does myself and the others, your room would be here,” Janus pointed out, flaring his own heartache with the presumed fact. Logan frowned angrily and balled a fist on the table.

“I’ll just sleep on the couch then.”

“No. You won’t.” 

“Fine, I’ll sleep in Remus’ room. He’s used to sharing.”

“This isn’t a debate, Logan, you’re going back.” Janus said evenly, without raising his voice, which somehow made the seriousness in his tone and the steel in his eyes even more intimidating.

In the glaring silence of Logan frantically trying to think of more argument points, Janus’ phone vibrated in his pocket. With a short and aggravated huff, he fished the object out and rolled his eyes at the displayed message.

[SMS From: Patton]

PLEASE tell me Logan isn’t with you

“Well,” Janus sighed, “It seems we’re both in trouble now.”

[SMS Re: Patton]

Oh no, not at all. Whyever would you think that

“That’s Morality, isn’t it,” Logan guessed, looking miserably down at the table. He didn’t want to think about what Morality was saying.

“Yes,” Janus confirmed as he ignored the message that popped up almost immediately. Shoving the phone into his pocket, he sat back down quietly.

Logan was smart, far too smart for his age which is why everything was very difficult for him. Morality was childish and couldn’t see past the fact that Logan was the youngest. Even so, it wasn’t as if he was an actual child. He was the manifestation of Thomas’ Logic; undeveloped, easily frustrated, overwhelmed by his Feelings and in desperate need of acknowledgement for simply trying his best. But even when Janus would convey it to Patton in that way, there was no getting to him. 

The fear that Logic would be cast aside and hidden away in this Darkness along with him was real, however. If that were to happen, Thomas would be in a very dangerous situation. It was terrifying enough that his natural Fight or Flight was already over here -- that his very will to live was as well. Janus didn’t want to think about what metamorphosis Logic would go through in that process. From Fear to Anxiety, now to Paranoia; watching Virgil suffer was already more than enough heartache for him, which wasn’t even to mention what was happening to Remus.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to get so angry at you, Logan,” Janus spoke softly, folding his hands on the table. He watched with a frown as Logan continued staring down. “But I really need you to understand that this is no place for you.” He leaned forward, trying to meet Logan’s eyes again, to no avail. “I know it’s hard, I know Patton doesn’t listen, but you have to keep trying,” Janus’ tone and expression were beseeching and genuine, his brow creased with a deep worry he didn’t have words for. “You have to promise me that you’ll keep trying,” Logan looked up, defiance and confusion hardening his eyes. He opened his mouth but Janus continued. “You have to. Even when you don’t want to. Even when the others don’t want you to. You have to, for Thomas.”

Logan stared at him, confusion slowly overtaking his rebellion. Janus looked…sincere and earnest, but he didn’t understand why. What was the point of arguing with Morality and Creativity if they would never listen? What was the point of going back when even Self Preservation knew he’d always be dismissed? It sounded exhausting. At fourteen, Logan was already so tired of it. But there was something in Janus’ eyes that convinced him to stop fighting; something that told him there was more he just didn’t understand yet. If that were true, if that were ever true, he’d believe it coming from the Side in front of him now and him, alone.

“Okay,” Logan sighed and Janus smiled in relief. 

“Good,” He nodded at the bowl as he sat back in his chair again. “You can finish up your breakfast but then--”

“There you are!” Patton’s voice, coming from behind Janus, stopped his words dead in their tracks. “I’ve been looking for you everywhere, kiddo!” 

“Morality,” Logan said, the word easily mistaken for a greeting. The boy glanced between Patton and Janus, the latter having lined his lips in a pensive, unhumored smile. 

“Whatcha doin’ over here, bud?” Patton asked as he approached the table. Janus rolled his eyes and leaned as far away in his chair as he could manage. 

Watching Janus’ reactions to Morality, Logan felt equally annoyed; both at the fact that Morality came here to get him, and also for how interrupted their conversation had become.

“Eating,” Logan said curtly, reaching for his cereal bowl.

“Well you know we have plenty of cereal in our kitchen, so why don’t you come on back and I’ll pour you some!” 

Patton’s positivity grated Janus like sandpaper. Years of assumptions and miscommunications soured his stomach. His body reacted to Morality like something toxic.

“Maybe he prefers the cereal over here,” Janus mumbled sarcastically and Patton bristled as though he had honestly expected Janus to stay silent this entire exchange. 

Logan bit his tongue to keep the appeased smile off his lips but his interest bubbled over. No Side had gotten under Patton’s skin like that since Anxiety was sent away. It was almost a missed sight.

“He wouldn’t know what the cereal over here was like unless someone made him try it,” Patton not-so-subtly accused as he reached for Logan’s wrist.

Logan refused at first, pulling with half strength against Patton’s grip. “I’m perfectly capable of pouring cereal myself, Morality,” He mumbled as he met Janus’ eyes. His sardonic and cynical expression seemed to say, it’d be easier to just go along with him I guess, much to Logan’s dismay. “But fine,” He sighed and let himself be pulled to stand, though he immediately shook off Patton’s hand. 

“Thank you,” Patton gloated as he turned to leave and Janus all but groaned out loud. 

Logan paused. The moral superiority that rolled off Patton was familiar, but at the same time something new against the kindness Janus had shown him. He could easily see why they didn’t get along; their methods were very different. Morality was overbearing, insistent, stubborn, rigid, and often narrow minded. Having developed from Thomas’ Feelings, Patton was silly, immature, and hard to take seriously. Self Preservation was the opposite somehow; smart, clever, flexible, nuanced, and able to see the whole picture with ease. Janus was sarcastic, mature, and deathly serious when need be as a result. Comparing them, it was easy to see why Logic had an easier time getting along with Self Preservation, and why it was pointless to hope that would ever change.

“I’m not doing this because you convinced me to,” Logan told Patton as he trailed after.

Patton turned to blink at Logan, looking mostly confused with a hint of offense. “Of course not,” He saved face, “You’re coming back because over there is where you belong.”

“No,” Logan said slowly, glancing behind himself at Janus, who stayed sitting facing away from them. “I’m doing this because Thomas needs me,” He informed Patton as he began to sink out. “And because you and Creativity would be hopeless by yourselves.”

Janus snickered, covering the sound with a cough into his hand.

“My word, Logan sure has developed quite the backbone while I’ve been gone,” Janus snarked once he and Patton were alone.

“What did you say to him?” Patton accused, his tone somewhere between antagonistic and wounded. 

“Why, nothing of course,” Janus mocked and Patton’s eyes narrowed. “We just bonded over our mutual dismissal, is all.”

“I don’t dismiss him!” Patton sputtered and Janus snorted. A tense silence rose before Patton continued. “Anyway, you shouldn’t be talking to him.”

Janus stood finally and turned to face Patton, his brows raised. “And why’s that?” 

“Because you’re gonna i-influence him or something! Like you did with Remus and then Logan will be over here too!” Patton stuttered and Janus scowled.

“Oh please, you know I’m the only reason he went back so willingly,” Janus waved a limp hand. “Though I doubt he’ll try this again anytime soon, so you don’t have to worry your simple little head about it, darling.”

“Well, good.” Patton finished, glowering at Janus’ smirk. He hated that expression. Why was Janus happy about them fighting? It certainly didn’t make Patton happy. He was anything but having to face him like this. Without much more to say, he sank out as Janus offered a caustic wave of his fingers.

“Good riddance.”

Chapter Three || Chapter Five Part One / Part Two

#loceit appreciation week #loceit week #loceitweek2021 #loceit #janus x logan #sanders sides fanfiction

[scenecipriano]

Side Swap Roman x Janus

I was the anon that asked about the one shot! It might not be great but I tried, I hope you like it!! 

@princeanxious

-----------------

Janus knew that visiting the dark side of the mindscape was risky, he was sure that if Virgil were here or if he knew, the vigilant side would be scolding him and dragging him back to their home by his ear like an overbearing mother. The dark side was probably Janus’s favorite place to be, it was nice and quiet and that’s what the creative side craved sometimes. 

Maybe there was also another reason he came to visit so often… but not like he’ll ever admit to it. 

“Well, well~! Look what the snake charmer dragged in, fabulous coat darling it totally suits your aesthetic!” A silky smooth voice purrs from a dark corner to his right. 

Janus tenses up and glances over, there stood Roman, dressed in dark and regal glory. His bright green eyes not leaving Janus for even a second. 

“I see that you’ve moved your room again… What’s wrong, Ignorance and Lust annoying you? Also was that a lie or a real compliment?” 

He forces himself to stay still when Roman takes a small step towards him, the deceitful side offers him a dashing smile as he holds out his hand. 

“You could say that the two of them can be so insufferable even on their best days. Won’t you come in? I’d hate for them to see you and torture you with their inane chatter, my dear.”

Janus could practically hear Virgil screaming at him that this is a bad idea, but he pushes it down. He’s been alone with Roman countless times and never felt as if he was in danger. Janus places his hand in Roman’s and allows the demon Esq side drag him into the room. 

Roman’s room was beautiful, something quite different compared to the other rooms within the dark side part of the mind. It was all hardwood floors and bookshelves filled with the finest of poetry and plays. The walls were red, but it was a welcoming shade, something that always put Janus at ease. 

“Your room never fails to amaze me…” Janus mutters as he looks around the fairly spacious area. 

Everything was dark oak, from the bookshelves to the big desk against the wall, and even the large four-post bed that stood in the center. 

“You’d be able to see it more often if you ever decide to take my offer, darling.” 

Janus sighs and glances back at Roman, the prideful side was always so confident when it came to his feelings for him. 

“I can’t… I’m already pushing boundaries by visiting so often. Even now I’m… I’m lying to my family about my visits…” 

The shorter side flinches when the feel of Roman’s cool hand tilts his head back by his chin.

“Come now, darling… We both know lying isn’t bad. Why… If it were bad I wouldn’t be here now would I?” 

Janus flicks his eyes away and swallows thickly. 

“I-I suppose… I-I suppose you’re right.” 

He feels himself relax as Roman steps away from him, Janus watches as the prideful side swiftly turns away, his cape-like sash fluttering in the slight wind as he walks over to his desk. 

“I’m actually glad you decided to visit today, darling. I have a present for you, for a moment I thought I would have to make a visit to the imagination in order to give it to you.” 

Janus furrows his brows. 

“Don’t do that, you’ll kill me from the cuteness! Now, come over here my lovely little star shine, stand in front of the mirror.”  

The shorter side hesitates for a moment before doing as he’s told, Janus freezes when Roman moves to stand behind him. He was sure by now if Virgil was here, the older side would be having a stroke at his lack of self-preservation. 

“Close your eyes,” Roman whispers. 

Janus shudders as he closes his eyes, his own anxiety sparking for a moment. A startled gasp escapes him when the weight of something brushes over his breast bone. 

“Open them for me, love.” 

He blinks his eyes open and stares at his reflection in shock, a stunning ruby necklace was held over his neck. The gem sparkled in the dim light of Roman’s room and the silver chain looked cool to the touch. 

Janus makes eye contact with Roman through the mirror, he could see the lopsided smirk that always made his knees go weak. 

“Won’t you be mine darling?” 

“I-I…” 

Janus isn’t sure what to do, this… This was something that felt so right to him, something he thinks he wants, but… It’s selfish… 

It was something that couldn’t work, something Janus was sure that wouldn’t last long. A relationship with a dark side? It was unheard of… he wasn’t even sure if he loved Roman. 

“I-I… I-I have to go…” Janus whispers. 

He sinks out before he even gives Roman a chance to speak. 

“Damn it!” Roman growls. 

Janus sinks up into his room, trying to calm his nerves. He does the breathing exercises he’s seen Virgil do, slowly calming himself down. 

“V-Vee is right… I need to stay away…” 

‘I need to stay away before I fall any deeper for him…’ 

#sanders sides #roman sanders #janus sanders #swapped side au #roceit #based on the lovely art I saw!