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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 2 months

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How Romantic

what if a side did get forgotten? they got pushed to the side enough (maybe by the others being in a relationship, maybe by other conflicts) and the mindscape started to remove the "unnecessary" influence – doteddestroyer

Read on Ao3

Warnings: fading/ducking out, but he's fine

Pairings: none, so gen

Word Count: 4777

Romanticism emphasized the individual, the subjective, the irrational, the imaginative, the personal, the spontaneous, the emotional, the visionary, and the transcendental. When Roman is forgotten as a part of Creativity, well, what use does the Imagination have for a prince when it can simply put the Romantic into its work in other ways? Remus has a few things to say about that.

It shouldn’t be all that surprising, really, to think that if a Mind forgets something, it will no longer manifest. Or rather, to not think of it. Or, one could imagine the consequences of not imagining something.

Listen, Roman’s already mostly out the door, he doesn’t have enough cognitive function left to think his way in and out of all the contradictions that arise from the things he says.

The basic principle is this: if a thing is no longer relevant in the Mindscape, which is a consequence of people not thinking about it, then it ceases to exist. The Mindscape doesn’t put the energy into making it a thing. Think of it like a video game. The game only renders the part of the role that the player is currently in, there’s no use for it to render the secret dungeon buried in the third level of the side quest that hardly anyone knows about. It’s more efficient if it doesn’t and in the incredibly slim chance that the player does end up there, then the game can render it and it’ll be fine and it’ll de-load as soon as they leave to go back to the main game.

Got it?

Great.

So, that’s where Roman is right now. In his room, waiting to be de-loaded. He has his Prince costume on, because that’s the version of him that’s going to fade last, his room is all made up in his signature red: red curtains, red comforter, red pillowcases, red notebook laid on his desk. He’s even got his sword out for a final sharpening—no, that’s not a dirty joke, he’s not that Creativity, he’s literally just taking care of the katana—as he waits for the telltale shudder of the Mindscape forgetting something.

He hums absentmindedly to himself as the whetstone sings against the blade. Really, it’s surprising it’s taking this long. Well, not really. Forgetting things is a slow process, it’s not like you can snap your fingers and poof, something’s gone. At the very least, it has to be long enough that something else has taken its place in your mind, and then when you look, you can’t even tell that something was ever missing from it.

Remus has that handled. And Roman will fight anyone who says that’s just because he’s intrusive thoughts, or whatever, no, Remus is memorable all on his own, thank you very much. He’s far cleverer than they all give him credit. And Roman wishes he was half as quick as Remus.

Again, not an innuendo. That’s not his thing, remember?

And Remus isn’t bound by the same creative limits he is! He can run wild—literally, if they let him—and come up with the most incredible things that open up all sorts of new possibilities for what they could do, what they can talk about, what sorts of things they could explore. Isn’t that so much better than just regurgitating the same story idea, over and over and over, doesn’t that get exhausting? How can you imagine something new when all you’re able to do is ricochet around the same blank boring box?

His hand shudders a little as it moves back up the blade. He never liked creative blocks.

And how nice would it be to have a Creativity that wasn’t bound to the fragility of the Ego? How much better, how much easier would it be if you didn’t have to worry about getting bruised and hurt every single time you got feedback on something you made? Making things is hard, you know, it’s vulnerable and terrifying and mortifying especially when you’re showing the end product to someone—and even if you aren’t! Even if it sits on a shelf in your room or a folder on your computer and it never, ever sees the light of day, that’s still scary! You’ve made something, it exists now because of you, and now someone could look at it and see you through it and—and—

Well. You get the idea.

Roman sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. He puts the katana away and places the whetstone back in its little box. As he goes to pick it up, it falls through his hands and hits the floor with a low thud.

Ah. So it is starting after all.

He leaves the box on the floor and goes back to the bed. He lies down, not sinking very much at all into his red covers. He folds his hands on his chest and stares up at the ceiling.

It makes sense, after all, that the parts of him the others don’t know about—or have already forgotten about—are going first. The whetstone. They know he has a sword. They probably don’t know how he takes care of it. His bed is red, and he’s the color red, so it’s still here. His room, his prince costume, his desk, all things he needs to be Creativity, or at least half of Creativity, so it will probably go last too.

He lets his head loll to the side, staring at his red notebook. bits of grey begin to enter his vision, the red notebook standing out like a sore thumb. He wonders if any of the things written on its pages would still be there if he looked.

He did love that notebook. It was his friend when no one else would be his friend. It was there for him when it wasn’t okay for him to have someone there for him, when he’d messed up too much to deserve comfort from anyone else, he would go to the notebook. Mainly because the notebook didn’t have a choice.

He’s written a small thing the other day about that, actually. He wonders if it’s still there. If he closes his eyes, maybe he can remember it.

Why don’t you talk to me?; you’re unkind to me; why don’t you talk to me?; I tried and you turned it into a lecture; why don’t you talk to me?; you make fun of me when I try to express how I’m feeling; why don’t you talk to me?; I tried to ask you for help and you turned it into a game of who could mock me the most until I ran away; why don’t you talk to me?; because you were still laughing when I ran away crying; why don’t you talk to me?; because you made me feel guilty for needing help; why don’t you talk to me?; because you made me feel ashamed for wanting support and comfort; why don’t you talk to me?; I don’t want to be in trouble; why don’t you talk to me?; I want to be hurt and upset and have that be okay because I got hurt by something; why don’t you talk to me?; the loneliest time in the world is right before you tell someone else what you did wrong because you know they won’t want to comfort you anymore; why don’t you talk to me?; it’s cold here; why don’t you talk to me?; I just want to be alone now; why don’t you talk to me?; I learned my lesson already; why don’t you talk to me?; what would I have to say?; why don’t you talk to me?; tell me the right words to use so you’ll actually care about me; why don’t you talk to me?; I don’t want to; why don’t you talk to me?; I don’t trust you anymore; why don’t you talk to me?; why would I talk to you?

Ah, that’s it.

His melodrama will probably be the last thing to go too.

He sighs, rubbing his cheek half-heartedly against the pillow in search of some meager comfort. He hasn’t been forgotten enough that the pain that lingers in his chest and hands has gone away, though he’s not sure how. He doesn’t think anyone knows about that—except maybe Remus.

Oh, Remus.

Roman’s chest burns and he gasps, sudden tears coming to the corners of his eyes. He doesn’t want to leave his brother, not after everything they’ve been through, not after all the work they’ve done to get back to the place they’re at now, after all this time, not when they’re finally brothers again. He sniffles, going to wipe his nose and his hands just start to ache. He curls up on the bed, around his pained hands, weeping for himself, for his brother, for Creativity.

Enough of his mind remains to put the pieces together and realize oh, of course. In forgetting everything else, I have been left with the things that I am at my core.

Pain in his chest and hands and an undying love for his brother.

A more complete Creativity might’ve called it Romantic.

***

Thomas sighs. To say that most of these meetings go well would be a lie, but this meeting is not going well.

“Look, all I’m saying is that—“

“Well, that’s your problem right there, you’ve been doing an awful lot of ‘saying’ and not a lot of ‘listening.’”

“Your sass, as delightful as it is, kiddo, is not helpful right now.”

“Oh, really? And here I thought it was the most pivotal thing at the moment.”

“No, it’s not, because it’s taking valuable time from—“

“Sarcasm, Patton. That was sarcasm.”

“And see! That’s another thing—“

“Oh, for the love of Archimedes…”

Yeah. not going well. Thomas pinches the bridge of his nose, trying to figure out what this conversation started with and how exactly they ended up here.

Right, okay.

He’d gotten a text from a friend about a thing they wanted to go do. The problem was, the thing cost money to do and the friend hadn’t said anything about paying for Thomas to come. His finances weren’t awful but it wasn’t like he had the amount of money to just…spare. Logan had suggested they ask and confirm who would be paying the entrance fee, Virgil had worried that it was rude to ask something like that, Janus had proposed a number of ways they could ‘surreptitiously’ ask about it, and Patton had worried about going at all if they were going to be guilt-tripped into it or if the friend had just assumed Thomas would be fine paying for it.

It had…developed from there.

“Look,” Logan says, “there is a very simple way to ask whether or not Thomas is to pay for his own entrance fee. We simply text or call them back and ask.”

“But what if they freak out about it? That’s a weird thing to ask!”

“How is it a weird thing to ask?”

“They might think we’re trying to freeload, or that we’re going to ask them to pay us back, or what if they think that we’re broke?”

“Hey!” Patton puts his hands on his hips. “You are not broken, kiddo, and I won’t stand for you saying that you are!”

“…not what I meant, but thanks, I guess.”

Janus rolls his eyes. “Well, if we’re this stressed out about a simple invitation to something we want to go to anyway, perhaps we should reconsider whether we want to be friends with them at all.”

“Now that’s a bit of an overreaction.”

“Sarcastic! I was being sarcastic!’

Yeah. That’s about where they are now. Out of sheer desperation, if nothing else, he glances over at Remus. Remus’s arms are hanging over the TV, swinging his hands as he grins at the chaos unfolding. He catches Thomas’s gaze and tilts his head in a silent question. Thomas gestures weakly around and Remus shrugs.

“I voted we just go without paying, but apparently that’s illegal or something.”

“Yeah, buddy, that’s…we’re not gonna do that.”

Remus shrugs. “Suit yourself.”

“Alright, look,” Thomas says, raising his voice enough to speak over the current argument about—you know what, he’s not even gonna ask— “this isn’t going anywhere. If we’re going to figure out what we are actually going to do, we need to think about this differently.”

“It’s a simple issue, Thomas.”

“And yet, we’ve been talking for close to an hour and we’ve made zero progress.” Thomas rubs his forehead. “Look, where’s Roman?”

There’s a pause.

“Roman?” Patton frowns. "Why would we need Roman?”

“Well, you know, he’s…also Creativty? Maybe he can help us think of something we’re not thinking of?”

“Remus is also Creativity,” Logan says, indicating Remus who gives a cheery little wave. “His suggestions have been…well, we’ve ruled them out.”

“That’s because you guys are no fun.”

“Yeah, but Roman is a different Creativity. Doesn’t it make sense that what he’d come up with would be different.”

Logan adjusts his glasses. “I suppose so.”

“Why didn’t he show up today, does anyone know?”

“Perhaps he is working on another video idea.”

“Maybe he got lost in the Imagination? Happens to me all the time.”

“Maybe he slept in. God knows he harps on about his ‘beauty sleep’ enough.”

“Janus? Remus? What about you two?”

“Why would I bother to keep track of anything Roman does?” Thomas narrows his eyes at him and Janus sighs, rolling his eyes. “No, I don’t know where he is or why he didn’t bother to show up, nor do I much care.”

“Janus!”

“What?”

Patton puts his hands on his hips. “Don’t be so dismissive, how would you like it if someone said that about you?”

”I don’t know, Virgil, how would I like it?”

“Hey, leave me out of this, I don’t have anything to do with whatever the heck this is.”

Thomas just barely suppresses a deep sigh and looks over at Remus. Remus, however, is not relishing in the argument breaking out between the three of them. Instead, he’s staring off into the corner, frowning hard.

“Remus? You okay, buddy?”

“Why can’t I remember the last time I saw Roman?”

Thomas frowns. That manages to get the attention of the others—somehow—and a hush falls over the room as they all think about it.

“Well, it can’t have been that long ago,” Patton says, “we saw him for movie night on the, um…when we watched the…”

”No, it was more recent than that,” Logan says, “he had come down to breakfast to make us those muffins.”

“Right, right, that’s right. When, uh, when was that?”

“Well, it was…”

Logan trails off into silence. Remus looks around at all of them. “Think about it: when was the last time any of us actually saw Roman? Can any of us actually remember?”

Thomas watches with muted horror as all of them slowly shake their heads.

“Fuck.”

“Language, kiddo,” Patton scolds, “anyway, I’m sure this is just a big misunderstanding.”

“That’s right,” Logan says, “after all, it’s hardly the first time Roman has been absent.”

“Yeah, but he normally tells someone where he’s going,” Virgil mutters, “especially if it’s gonna be for a while.”

“Okay, the last time I definitely saw Ro was three weeks ago when we fed Ollie.”

“He helped me put up new cat posters in my room. I think it was…it was before we did that full moon thing, so that was a month ago?”

“He—jeez, I think I passed him in the hallway at, like, stupid o’clock around a week ago, but I was…pretty out of it.”

“We had a brief meeting about the upcoming script last week. That’s the last time I remember seeing him for certain.”

“Don’t look at me,” Thomas protests when all eyes turn in his direction, “I don’t see him outside of these meetings and the last time we had one of those was like, two months ago.”

“Janny? What about you?”

Janus sighs, idly examining one of the seams on the tip of his finger. “I think you’re all being overdramatic.”

“Roman is missing, Janus,” Logan says with a bit of bite to his words, “I don’t think ‘overdramatic’ is an accurate description.”

“Yeah, especially since none of us can remember the last time we saw him.”

“Oh, please,” he sighs, “it’s Roman. Do you really think something so horrible could happen to him that he’d disappear and he wouldn’t tell anyone about it?”

A beat.

“…shit.”

“Yeah, that sounds like Roman.”

”Alright,” Virgil says, getting up, “Thomas, don’t respond yet. They’ll think you’re working or something. Remus, go check the Imagination.”

“On it!”

“Logan, go see if he’s in the library, J, check the Dark Side’s living room.” The two of them nod and sink out. “Pat?”

“Yeah?”

“We’re gonna go to his room and see if he’s in there.”

“Okay.” Patton glances at Thomas. “Can you…can you feel anything?”

Thomas frowns, putting a hand on his chest. He moves it to the other side.

“Are you checking for your pulse or something?”

“No, normally when I think about Roman, like I’m gonna summon him or something, there’s this, like, warmth? It’s like something in my chest that just—it’s hard to explain.” He moves his hand back. “But I can’t…I can’t feel it right now.”

“Oh, that’s probably not good.”

”We should go.”

“Hey, if it ever feels like you can summon him again? Do it, then get the rest of us back.”

Thomas nods, watching as Virgil grabs Patton and they sink out. He sits slowly on the couch, staring into the middle distance as he keeps moving his hand around his chest. It’s strange; he normally doesn’t even have to put a hand to himself to feel where Roman is. He wasn’t lying before, it really is like this warmth that just lives in his chest, like a second heart almost, one that doesn’t really beat so much as just exist there. Like it’s reminding him that he’s, you know, a human with feelings and wants and desires and that’s okay.

Oh, Roman, buddy, where are you?

***

Remus steps into the Imagination and his knees almost buckle immediately.

Bluish-black storm clouds gather and bruise a dark grey sky overlooking a massive craggy cliff rising impossibly high. Vividly green grass and terribly purple flowers bloom deep inside the crevices of the rocks lining the path in front of him, the smell of fresh rain hanging so heavy that it seems it would fall any moment. In the distance he can see evergreens, smell them even though they must be miles away, and another mountain rising behind them with thin, wispy clouds stretching red fingers over its peak. The ground is warm under him, as though he were standing over an active volcano, but he can see and hear and smell the river that flows by just to the side of him, and the breeze that comes from it is cool and damp. His fingers twitch. So does his nose. He takes a deep, deep breath and takes a step forward.

With every step he takes, the more an uncertain feeling takes root at the base of his stomach. it’s too sweet to be panic, too frenzied to be melancholy, and too lonely to be wonder. He keeps walking. The Imagination is always impossibly vivid, impossibly beautiful, but something about this feels…different.

His chest feels tight.

As he moves past a larger collection of boulders, he rounds the corner as he spots a tree. A massive tree, one where the branches curl outwards and upwards like color diffusing into clear water. Some part of Remus—a part that sounds a lot like Logan, if he’s being honest—mutters how a tree like this couldn’t exist, not in these mountains, not with its roots in these rocks. And yet, here it grows all the same. He moves toward it, the tightness in his chest growing with every step.

At the base of the tree lies the hilt of a katana.

“R-Ro?” Remus collapses in front of the tree, shaking hands touching the trunk. The bark flakes away under his fingers and the smallest glimmers of gold shine up. “Roro…oh, Ro, what happened?”

“Remus? Remus!”

“Whoa, what the hell is this place?”

Remus can’t tear his eyes away from the tree long enough to see them but he can hear the others rush up behind him. He just paws weakly at the trunk and Logan’s muffled gasp is all he needs to hear before he starts sobbing.

“Oh, no,” Logan mumbles, “Roman’s…something’s happened to Roman. He’s—Remus, has he Faded? Or is this something else?”

“He’s been Forgotten,” Remus sobs, “the—the Imagination put him back where—where he wasn’t Roman anymore and he’s—he’s—“

Another sob leaves his throat.

“I want my brother back!”

“But we remember him,” Patton says, “we—we do, he’s Roman, we want him back, why—why is he here still?”

“I don’t think he knows we’re here,” Virgil says, glancing around, “I think he’s—I think he’s here sort of, but not in the Roman we know.”

“So what do we do? How do we get him back?”

Remus is still touching the tree. The clouds overhead start to rumble with distant thunder. He presses himself up against it, hugging it tightly.

“Come back, Ro-bro,” he mumbles into the bark, “came back, I want you to come back.”

“Logan? What do we do?”

“There has to be a reason he’s manifesting like this, doesn’t there?” Logan turns around, looking at the mountains, the sky, the river, the rocks, the tree. “Nature, the natural world, he’s become a tree so some kind of growth? Reincarnation? Transcendence?”

“Maybe it has more to do with Roman?” Janus’s against the bark near Remus’s head. “Creativity? Ego? Romance?”

“Romance…Romance…Romance, of course, Roman’s Romance!”

“What about this seems particularly romantic to you?”

“That’s it, it’s not romantic, it’s Romantic. The Romantic movement, the whole—oh, Roman,” Logan says softly, resting his hands on the trunk too, “I’m sorry that you didn’t feel like you could talk to us.”

“How in the hell are you getting all of that from Roman being a tree?”

”The Romantic period was in reaction to the balance and calm of the Classical. Heightened emotion, the irrational, the subjective, all of these became key themes. It was far more important to preserve the spirit and individuality of the artist rather than any sort of adherence to strict rules or traditional procedures.” Logan’s hand runs over the bark. “As well as a focus on the inner struggles of the exceptional figure.”

“And Princey’s the exceptional figure?”

”In a manner of speaking.” Logan presses his other hand to the tree too. “Roman? Are you here?”

A breeze ruffles through the leaves.

“Was that him?” Patton rushes forward and touches the tree. “Roman? Roman, kiddo, are you there?”

Another low boom of distant thunder and it starts to rain.

“Quick, everyone touch the tree.” Everyone puts their hands on it. ‘Roman? Roman, can you feel that? We’re all here, we’re all right here.”

The thunder grows louder. They wait there with bated breath as the tree rustles in the breeze, until Janus, who hadn’t clutched down with the rest of them, hears a crackle from up in the clouds.

“Get back!”

They all fling themselves away just as lightning strikes the tree, the very top of it catching fire as the trunk splits down the middle. Jagged bits of wood just into the open air like fractured ribs. And there, in the center of the splitting trunk—

—is Roman.

“Ro!” Remus howls and dives forward, wrenching his brother’s body out of the tree and dragging him to lie on the flat stone. “Ro, wake up, wake up, you have to be okay, you have to be!”

“…Re?”

Remus sobs again, throwing his arms around Roman who looks up at them with quiet confusion.

“What’s going on?”

“You left,” Janus spits, “you vanished and we didn’t know where you were so we had to come look for you.”

“J,” Virgil says lowly, before crouching down, “you went missing, Roman. We couldn’t find you. Why, uh, why were you in a tree?”

Roman frowns. “I don’t know. I…I was in my room, and you were forgetting me—“

“What do you mean, we were forgetting you?”

Roman blinks. “You were forgetting me. You were going to Remus. Remus is the Creativity that’s helping more. You weren’t thinking about me.”

“That’s not true,” Patton mumbles, horrified, even as Roman gestures around with a wordless if it wasn’t, we wouldn’t be here, “we…we love you, Roman.”

Roman just shrugs. “Maybe.”

“What do you mean, ‘maybe?’” Janus splutters. “That’s not a thing you get to say maybe about, Roman.”

Roman doesn’t even flinch, just turns slightly so he can rest his head against Remus’s.

“You don’t even have anything to say for yourself?”

“Janus,” Logan says sharply, “that’s enough.”

”Roman disappears, he turns into a tree, he says we’re forgetting him and that we don’t love him, and we’re just supposed to accept it?” Janus throws his hands up. “How are you three so calm about this?”

“I’m not calm, but I’m not going to make this about me right now!”

“Janus,” Roman says softly and they instantly fall quiet, “you’re right. I’m sorry. I don’t know how I became a tree. I didn’t mean to imply you guys had forgotten me entirely. I shouldn’t have said you don’t love me.”

Janus’s eyebrows raise in surprise. He huffs a little awkwardly and folds his arms. “Well. Good.”

”Are…we done now?”

“What? No, Princey, we’re not done, we—“ Virgil runs a hand through his hair— “you turned into a tree. After you vanished. How the hell are we—what do we do now?”

Roman shrugs.

Remus, who has been lying on top of Roman for this whole thing, feels one of the hands under him begin to meld with the stone. He draws back, alarmed, only for Roman’s fingers to come free and lace with his. He squints at Roman’s face, noticing the barely-there tremble of his lip, and whips around to face the other three.

“You three. Fingers. Ears. Song. Now.”

‘What?”

“Do it!”

It takes them a second but they begrudgingly put their fingers in their ears and start mumbling things to avoid listening. Remus glares at them for a moment longer before turning back to Roman.

‘Hey,” he whispers, “what’s wrong?”

Roman’s lip trembles again. “They’re still here,” he whispers back, “I just—I just want to hurt.”

‘What do you mean?”

“They’ll be mad at me for whatever’s going on, they’ll—I don’t want them to explain or tell me how what I’m doing is bad, or anything like that. I don’t want their—I don’t want their comfort,” Roman whispers, his voice getting thick, “I just want to be hurt by myself and have that be okay.”

“Of course that’s okay, Ro.”

“Because they did forget me. It’s not your fault or anything but they did and it hurts, Re—“

“I know, I know, shh, shh, hey, hey,” he says, “let’s do this: we need to go tell good old Thomathy that we found you, so let’s you and me go do that and then we can have our own cat pile wherever you want, okay? Just you and me. The others can you suck a tree branch.”

“Won’t they be mad?”

“Tell you what: you go to Thomas right now, I’ll deal with them, and then I’ll come after.”

“…I’m sorry I left again, Re.”

“Pshh. Water under the Kraken.”

***

Thomas shoots up from the couch as Roman rises up in his normal place.

“Roman! You’re okay!” He yes the scratches as bruises from the tree. ‘Well, mostly.”

Roman rubs the back of his head. “Yeah. I’m…sorry.”

“Whoa, hey, it’s okay, buddy. As long as you’re okay.”

Roman blinks. “Wait, really?”

‘Yeah, bud. You, uh…it looks like you’ve been through some stuff.”

“…that’s one way to put it.”

“Do you, uh talk about it?”

“Not really.”

‘Okay.”

“Wait, you’re sure?”

‘Yeah. It’s your business. I, uh, I’ll be here if you do want to?”

“Thanks, Thomas.”

“Of course, buddy. You’re great.” Thomas scratches the back of his head too. ‘I know we, uh, haven’t always been the best at saying stuff out loud to each other, that’s normally what the others do, but…you know I’d never replace you for anything, right?”

Roman smiles. He really, truly smiles. And for just a moment, the entire Mindscape fades away, leaving just the two of them standing in this one little room. A man and his Ego, smiling at each other.

The setting sun peeks in through the blinds and the room glows with a rich, bright red.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #roman angst #roman sanders #roman sanders angst #logan sanders #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #virgil sanders #patton sanders #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit

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voxmortuus · 1 year

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Can i request a roman godfrey x plus!size reader. Maybe she is the new girl or Peter's sister or cousin that moved there because of her Father’s job or something and roman becomes obsessed with her or something and he dose all this because he is in love with her and just a really fluffy ending pls

I just want to say I am SO sorry for this taking as long as it did to produce! I have been feeling so out of sorts with my writing and I had taken a super long hiatus. I found this half written in my drafts and felt I NEEDED to finish this! So, Here it is! The finished piece!!! I hope it finds you well.

PAIRING: Roman Godfrey x Fem!Plus Sized!Reader - Reader is 18+

UNIVERSE: Hemlock Grove

WORDS: 1.1K

SUMMARY/PROMPT: See above

TRIGGER WARNINGS: Obsessive Roman | Stalking Insinuated | Fluff | PLEASE TELL ME IF I FORGOT ANYTHING!!! I want to make sure readers are fully aware of what they are getting themselves into when they read this…

NOTE: Sorry if this isn't what you expected, or had envisioned yourself, I apologize. But I hope you enjoyed my vision.

IMAGE CREDIT: Google I DO NOT CLAIM OWNERSHIP OF THESE IMAGES. If these are yours or you know who the creator(s) is please INBOX me and let me know. Thank you.

DIVIDER CREDIT: @firefly-graphics

My Master Masterlist | Taglist

Welcome to Hemlock Grove - That's what the sign read as you entered the town. Remote, and almost nothing here. Rubbing your face you look around and take in the bare land from the death of winter. Your father had gotten a job working at The Godfrey Institute. Unknowing what was in store for you you take this as a new opportunity to reinvent yourself, to start fresh in the way of hoping for a new beginning.

Making your way inside your new home with the last box for your room, you place it down on your bed and look out the window that looks over the street that leads to Godfrey Manor. Making a small face in slight disgust, you let off a small sigh and start putting things away.

It wasn't long before you hear a knock at your bedroom door, and it was your father asking you if you'd like to go with him to see where he works. Shrugging you had agreed to go. The way you saw it was it got you out of the house and around civilization. Grabbing your coat you throw your hair up into a loose bun and follow him to the car.

Your father didn't work far from your new home, so it was less than a few moments before you found yourself in the elevator on your way to the top floor to look around your father's new place of work. Looking around for a moment you look up at your father and tell him you're going to look around.

As you wander off you find yourself in the rather large conference room. Little to your knowledge you are being watched, by Mr. Godfrey himself. Watching you as your fingers graze against the solid wood table, across the leather backing of the chairs. Watching you as you look so unamused and so done with today that you're ready to go home.

You weren't like the others that had come in and out of here, you were shaped differently, you were a snack, in a matter of ways. While you questioned yourself sometimes, you were truly a beautiful person. Even when you didn't see yourself that way. Looking at your reflection off the surface of the table, he let out a breath, push the loose stray hairs back into place, and look around once more before wandering out.

He follows you and watches you. It was that moment he knew that you, you were it. That something different in his life, that spark he felt he's been missing. That itch he's been needing to scratch and could never find the right tool to scratch it. Roman knew that you were going to change his way of thinking when it all boiled down to it.

Spring is here, it's been five months since the move, and you've become settled, relatively. But something's been going on. You've been getting flowers and other little gifts off and on for the past three or so months. It's regular, on queue, and it never changes, once, every two weeks, a fresh bouquet of something different, and either a card, or a little trinket, be it a charm, a piece of something to wear, or a small stuffed animal accompanies this bouquet. Today, was no different.

Lurking in the distance, as he always had from the moment you met, you let out a soft yet slightly heavy breath and you look down at the flowers that sat on your doorstep. "What the heck…" you say softly. Pushing your lips to one side you look around and you pick up the sunflower and rose bouquet and pull it to your face and take in a deep inhale and smiled with a slightly somber look on your face. "THANK YOU!" You call out before you walk in and close the door.

The flowers become a regular thing, and you start visiting the office a little more, the light anonymous things putting you in a mood of happiness and genuine love. You feel this love and you don't know how to channel it, so you start bringing your father lunch at work, and you start talking to his co-workers. But it's when you meet his boss that your own heart begins to beat a little funny. You give a slightly goofy giggle, clear your throat, put your head down, and walk away.

It was his scent, you knew that scent. It was on the stuffed bear you had received with a bouquet of peonies not long ago. You excuse yourself and make your way out of the building. Running your hands down your thick thighs you lean against your little beat-up volkswagon bug and you feel your heart beating miles a minute. Shaking your head you look up at the building and burst into laughter. Why? No? Really? Was it him?

You look back down, and you lean against your car a little more, and before you had a moment to really recall everything you see him approaching from your peripheral vision. Licking your plump lips you look over at him and draw in a deep breath.

"Has it been you?" you ask. "Since the beginning." He stated "But why?" you ask him. "Why couldn't you tell me? I come in to bring him lunch every day and you couldn't tell me?" "I didn't know how. I was in awe of you." Roman admitted. "Mr. Godfrey--" "Roman, please, call me Roman." He stated. "Roman." you pause a moment. "I am nothing to be in awe about, my curves have curves, I'm far too out of your realm of normal woman, I'm just--" "Perfect. You're perfect and you don't see it Y/N. You won't see it, but I want to help you see it… if you'll let me." He smiled. "Let me take you out tonight. There's this cute little coffee shop in town, join me?" He asked.

Charming, he was charming, and he was sweet. Nodding your head you had agreed to his proposal of coffee. He holds out his hand and you place yours in his. Your hand feels so small in his, you feel like you're about the size of a damn munchkin from The Wizard of Oz. But it feels good. You feel good.

Sitting in the coffee shop after you two walk a little ways from the building you find yourself enthralled in each other, in the conversation, the mindless nothing of conversation that has led to laughter, and genuine raw emotions between you. Nothing but calm, cherished moments. Sure, people stared, but he never took his eyes off you, his attention was on you. You were important to him.

What really made you feel on top of the world, was when he reached forward and tucked some hair behind your ear, helped you up, and walked back to the building with you. From that day on, you realized that you are perfectly imperfect and that no matter what, you are beautiful, and because of Roman, seeing yourself as anything less, that's just not possible anymore.

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starshard17 · 3 months

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"Even if you don't want me"

---

Some Roman angst I thought of after rewatching PoF ❤️

#sanders sides #moonbladeart #my art #roman sanders #patton sanders #roman angst #angst

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f-at-f · 1 year

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#sandersides #roman sandersides #ts roman #roman angst #my art #sanders sides #sanderssides

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glacierruler · 1 month

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Creativitwins angst

I don't normally draw kid sides, so this was fun!

If you like, please reblog!

Taglist: @cutebisexualmess @nebulous-astronaut @uhhh-hi-there-i-am-nervous @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat

If you'd like to be added/removed let me know!

Again, if you like, please reblog!

#glacier's art #glacier's digital art #sanders sides #tss #thomas sanders sides #remus #ts remus #remus sanders #roman #ts roman #roman sanders #remus angst #remus sanders angst #roman angst #roman sanders angst #creativitwins #creativitwins angst

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randomnerd737 · 7 months

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Logan: I don't have feelings! what are you talking about? I'm perfectly content with the way the other sides treat me! no anger issues here! Patton: what? me? depression? no, I'm always happy! Roman: I'm not insecure! I'm fully confident in myself all the time!

Janus: and *I'M* denial.

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #orange side logan #janus sanders #logan angst #roman angst #patton angst

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knottaghost · 1 year

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hi tumblr back on my bullshit 🥀📝

#sanders sides #roman sanders #roman angst #my shit art ✨#sanders sides fanart #fanart

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monkeythefander · 7 months

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Sanders Sides Angst Headcannons

@thatsthat24

CW: Angst headcannons for each of the sides

———————————————————————

• After Janus’ fake compliments in the courtroom, Roman has a hard time believing compliments from Thomas and the other sides.

• Back when Virgil still lived with the Dark Sides, Janus would make a cake for Virgil’s birthday every year that the two of them and the other Dark Sides could share. After Virgil left, Janus continued the tradition of baking a cake. However since Virgil’s gone Janus takes the cake to the anxious side’s old room and eats some of it by himself, leaving a bit in the room in case Virgil ever decides to come back.

• Remus has a sketch book full of drawings he and Roman made together before the mindscape became divided. Whenever Remus misses his brother he’ll look at the drawings.

• Since nobody likes to listen to him, Logan has a journal he writes all his thoughts in. The journal started off as a professional log of his days, but it’s slowly become more of diary since it’s basically his only companion.

• Patton has a closet full of boxes tissue boxes in his room because he lets out all the sad emotions he suppresses through tears when he’s alone.

A/N: I just wanted to note that if you like any of my headcannons and want to write a fanfic or make a drawing based on it you can do so as long as you credit me and tag me in the post so I can see it.

-Monkey💜

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disneybrandautism · 5 months

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“are we soulmates in every universe?”

“are we even soulmates in this one?”

#i woke up and chose roceit angst #roceit #roman angst #roman sanders #janus sanders #my take on the are we soulmates in every universe trend

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nandysparadox · 6 months

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The State of Dreaming, Ch.1: Primadonna

"Living life like I'm in a dream / I know I've got a big ego / I really don't know why it's such a big deal, though" - Primadonna, MARINA

Primadonna - Next - Masterpost - [ AO3 ]

Rated T - CW: Remus-typical imagery, blood mention - WC: 2029

Chapter Summary: The tournament's festivities are in full swing in the kingdom, but an eventuality in the town of Hazelbury and an... unexpected guest interrupt Roman's plans.

Huge thanks to @creativia10 for beta-reading! ^.^

Roman lifted his sword into the air with a shaky breath, earning a thunderous round of applause from the audience. He reveled in it. Hundreds of eyes turned directly onto him, lavishing him with attention.

He basked in the praise for a few seconds before he moved toward his fallen opponent, extending him a hand.

“Wonderful duel, good sir,” Roman said as he helped him get off the ground.

“Same to you, Your Majesty, It’s an honor,” the knight responded with a firm nod, before stalking off to the back of the arena.

Roman did a cursory lap around the field, careful to dodge a few roses thrown onto the ground. He looked towards the colorful bleachers — marveling at how the sunlight made the kingdom's emblem an even more vibrant red — and greeted the subjects who came to watch the tournament. While he had the duel to start the festivities, there were many battles ahead. He ran through the opening speech in his head.

As he slowed down, he came to encounter his valet, Eric, who stood with his hands folded behind his back and an easy smile on his face.

“What a valiant battle, my lord.”

Roman took off his helmet, shook his head, and then ran a hand through his hair. Just as he went to respond, loud cheers coming from the audience interrupted him.

Eric smirked. “It seems you have admirers, Your Majesty.”

“You know it’s difficult to resist a beauty such as myself,” laughed Roman, holding the golden helmet close to his chest and waving to the audience, who answered in earnest.

“Well, I need to get this off before the opening speech,” he chuckled. “Eric, will you call for the squire-”

“Excuse me, Your Majesty!”

Roman turned around to see a young man — a page, probably — approaching them. A slight flush on his cheeks indicated he’d been running. Roman motioned for him to speak.

“Advisor Whittle called forth a meeting,” He said, his breath labored. “They said it’s urgent.”

Roman’s brow furrowed. There was nothing of the sort scheduled for the day, as far as he knew. And while he’d set aside festivities for the sake of the kingdom, unplanned events set his teeth on edge.

“Very well, I’ll be there as soon as possible,” he said, placing a hand on the page’s shoulder. “Find Fairy Godmother and tell her to take over the tournament, for the time being. She should be around the festival.”

Sighing, the page ran off once again.

“Shall we go, then?” Roman said as he turned to his valet.

Eric only nodded and they headed off.

They quickly passed through the East Wing of the castle, soon making their way into the great hall. His gold-plated armor weighed his movements, clanging loudly with every step. The polished floor reflected its silhouette almost perfectly, unmarred by even a single speck of dust — as if the marble itself was a sacred site.

Roman stood out of place in the midst of it, tousled hair and soaked with sweat. If only he had time to prepare, he could look at least halfway presentable.

Still, He strode through the hall at a brisk pace, Eric trailing closely behind him — mirroring his posture. Roman noticed Eric matched their steps as well, slowing down considerably to do so. Since he had long legs and a willowy frame.

As soon as they arrived at the meeting room, two knights opened the door with a bow. He could spot Advisor Whittle by the edge of the table, scowling at letters scattered around the table.

Roman cleared his throat. “I came as soon as I could.”

The advisor’s gaze snapped to him. They stood immediately and then bowed. “Your Highness, please come in,” they said, pulling out a chair. “Sit, sit.”

“Is something the matter, advisor?” asked Roman.

“Well, I suppose that it is good news, in a way,” they sighed, “Though I’m afraid you’ll have to attend to it yourself, my lord.”

“What happened?”

“The guard has found the thief who’s been raiding villages in the kingdom,” answered Whittle. “We also have reason to believe he’s behind the recent fire in Hazelbury. However, he refuses to tell us anything, his condition is that you be present.”

Roman frowned. They had fortified defenses in Hazelbury as attacks weren’t uncommon, so he’d been aware of the fire as soon as it happened. But, he didn’t expect an event of this sort at all today — especially one that involved him so heavily — seeing as he hadn’t even scripted such a quest.

More reason to investigate, he supposed.

“I see, I shall tend to it at once,” Roman nodded. “Thank you, advisor.”

A couple of guards followed him as he walked out of the meeting room. When they arrived at the stables, they were quick to gather the horses and call upon the knights. Roman watched as the stable hand worked, preparing his steed.

“Do you wish for me to fetch your dragon, my lord?” asked the stable hand as he fastened the saddle.

“No need,” Roman answered with a chuckle, mounting his horse. “Phillip is fast indeed, but he needs his rest, or else he’ll burn everything to a crisp.”

After that, they were off to find the titular criminal. If they found him on the run, then he must’ve been just on the way to the town, which, for one, would make the journey significantly shorter. Hopefully, he hadn’t run the other way.

As soon as they crossed the capital, wild fields stretched across the land as far as the eye could see. However, they weren’t bare — flowers adorned every inch of them, forming ever-shifting images with a myriad of colors. Like gazing upon the clouds, any time you looked at the nearby hills you’d find another shape. Roman couldn’t help but look at the scenery with awe, despite it being a well-worn path.

The trail wasn’t too difficult to follow. They mainly stuck by the side of the river — with some caution, of course, to avoid angering the many creatures that inhabited it. He soon found himself lost in its ambiance. The sounds of water hitting the rocks washed away the last of his nerves. He only noticed that time had passed when he spotted tents and the crown banner a few feet next to the road.

It didn’t take long to find the guards who’d called for them. They sat by an elm tree — happily chattering while playing a guessing game, despite having captured a long-wanted criminal. Roman chuckled as he approached and stepped off his horse.

Their eyes snapped to him in alarm, and they immediately bowed.

“Your Majesty,” said one of them, “We’ve caught the-”

“I’m aware,” Roman smiled placatingly. “And there’s no need to fret, none of you are in trouble.”

He then turned his gaze towards the figure in the middle, tied to the trunk of the tree. They kept their head low, blonde hair covering any of their features.

“And what about you?” He asked as he stepped closer. “You’ve called for me, now speak.”

They remained silent, but Roman caught the way their shoulders shook as if they were holding in laughter. Soon confirmed by the stray giggles that escaped them. His patience faded by the second.

“You dare laugh?” He seethed, barely holding onto his composure. He drew his sword, pointing it at them. “I’d advise you speak now, you’ll find me much less merciful with the ones who waste my time.

The threat didn’t disturb the thief, who erupted in shrill laughter. They shook their head vigorously before looking directly at Roman.

He took a step back when he met vibrant, acid-green eyes. In a matter of seconds, their features shifted and their hair darkened to a light brown until someone he knew far too well stood in front of him.

“You’re no fun, Ro-bro. If I knew you’d take this long to appear, I’d have just tried a regular assassination attempt.”

Roman stared at him, shocked, before his confusion morphed into anger. “Remus! I’ve told you not to bother me when I’m already doing a quest!”

“Can’t I visit to cheer up my little brother?” Remus put on an over-the-top pout. “I mean, look at you, you’re like the world’s most pathetic little meow meow.”

“We’re twins,” Roman deadpanned. “And if anything, your incessant taunting does the opposite.”

Remus sized him up for a moment.

“Oh, Roman… you really have yourself fooled, don’t you?” said Remus, a sort of condescending pity in his voice. “You’ve built yourself a crystal palace, hoping that if you stand still enough your subjects will think you’re a glass statue.” He smiled, all teeth. “When it breaks, will you fall with it?”

Roman faltered. “What?”

Remus paid him no mind, shaking his head and giggling. “I wonder how it would shatter, a million little shards slashing through your skin, lodged deep enough to pin you like a butterfly,” he mused, excited. “Say, would they run? If they saw your blood streaked across marble?”

Roman stumbled back, and the look on his face must’ve been a sight because his brother’s twisted grin only grew.

“Aw, don’t look so horrified, Ro-Ro, you know I wouldn’t run. I’d love to-”

“Leave me alone, Remus!” He yelled, despite himself. He knew Remus would only be fueled by the outburst if anything.

“Why?” Remus jeered, shimmying his shoulders. “I even used your type of ‘poetic’ language. What, a bit of spicy imagery doesn’t fit into your perfect little vision-”

“At least I have a vision!” He shouted back, gripping the hilt of his sword tighter as he practically slammed it back into the scabbard. “At least my ideas aren't a nonsensical mess of themeless gore. At least they're polished.” He spat out.

The silence fell heavy on the clearing, not one sound rang in the in-between moments. He followed Remus’ gaze, now fixed on the guards. All of them locked into a pose, frozen in place like nothing happened, unable even to witness his outburst. Remus didn't comment on it, but Roman felt accused nonetheless. They both knew the imagination followed his whims. Before he could break the silence, Remus spoke.

“Polished enough that the others will listen?” said Remus, oddly serious. Somehow, that tone coming from his brother made the tame words uncanny. “How's that working out for you?”

Taking a deep breath, Roman ran his hand through his hair. “Listen, just… leave, okay.”

Remus gave him another one of those condescending smiles, pushing himself off the tree and letting the ropes pool around his feet; Roman hadn’t even noticed the pocket knife strapped to his belt. He approached Roman and leaned near his ear, whispering despite the two of them being the only ones who’d listen.

“Have fun playing dolls, brother,” said Remus, and the words sent a shiver down his spine. “Soon enough, you’ll fit right in with them.”

Roman pushed him off and only caught a glimpse of his brother waving before he unceremoniously sank out. He stared at the grass where he’d stood for a moment. It didn’t move with the wind — it stayed perfectly still, along with the flowers and the leaves. As if locked in a painting.

Finally snapping out of his reverie, he clapped. In a second the imagination came back to life in a flurry of movement and he was swarmed by concerned guards.

“Your Majesty, where is the Duke?” asked one of them, frantically looking around. No memory of the confrontation. Right. Roman clenched his jaw.

“No need to worry about him, I-I ran him off.”

A hollow feeling burned its way into his chest when they praised him for the supposed feat. He pushed past them, hands closed tightly into fists. He exhaled as he got to his horse, straightening his back in an attempt to maintain composure.

“Shall we go, men?” He smiled, no real mirth behind it. “If we travel swiftly we might still make it to the tournament.”

They did. And if Roman spent the rest of the festivities sitting on his throne, ruminating over his brother’s words, no one would know but him.

AN: I've had this fic in my mind for almost two years now, it was my NaNoWriMo project last year and it's my project this year as well, so I'm very excited to share it!

Title is from 'The State of Dreaming' by MARINA, and all the chapter titles are songs from her 'Electra Heart' album (it's just so Roman, I couldn't resist!)

#sanders sides #roman sanders #sanders sides fic #tss #roman angst

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 10 days

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Gross

Fic Idea (no pressure obviously) Thomas struggling with his self image and ego, and in response Roman ends shapeshifting all the time, fluctuating between the masculine beauty standard (lean, muscular, hairless) and what society considers “ugly” (pudgy, hairy). And based on how he looks, Roman will interact with the others or hide away – anon

hihi!! had this random idea for a sanders sides fic- something along the lines of- a while after Remus and Roman split, Remus comes back (when the dark sides start to get more involved) and confesses that he hoped Roman was doing better after he joined the light sides? that all he wanted was for his brother to be happy, away from the darkness for once? angst sadness ykyk :)) – can-you-hear-me-axhilles

hi, so I just read your wings series and I was wondering if we could have something with Remus and his tentacles? Like maybe him thinking they are ugly or something, I’m not really sure. Maybe Roman has animal characteristics too and they’re “prettier” or “better” so he gets insecure? Mainly focused on these two but I don’t mind if it’s all of them together. No pressure to write this tho! – anon

I’ve been reading your Sanders Sides stuff for the longest time and I was wondering if I could get some Roman angst with a side of creativitwins? – meandmacats

Read on Ao3

Warnings: non-consensual body modification, self-esteem issues, self-hatred

Pairings: gen

Word Count: 5481

Or, five times Remus helped Roman out when Thomas's self-esteem issues change his nature, and one time Roman helps Remus.

”Remus?”

Remus looks up from his knitting to see Patton standing over him. “What’s good, Pat-Pat?”

“I’m, what’re you doing?”

“Oh, I’m knitting this patchwork sweater out of hair.”

“Oh…how cool.” Patton gives himself a shake. “Anyway, I was wondering if you’ve seen Roman? He was supposed to come down for lunch but he never showed.”

“Like, at all, at all?”

“Yeah. Neither hair nor hide! Or—well, I guess he did do the hide since he’s hiding from us, and you’re the hair!”

“Ah, Pat-Pat, never stop with the dad jokes. You’ll make all of us go into pun-withdrawal.” Remus carefully sets aside the needles and bounces to his feet. “I’ll go look for him, see if he needs to be pried out of the dragon’s gullet again.”

“Oh, thanks so much, Remus, I really—wait, ‘again?’”

“Gotta blast!”

Honestly, it’s not like Roro is known for missing deadlines, that’s Remus’s thing. Especially when it comes to things like meals and remembering to eat—well, Ro’s not exactly the pinnacle of healthy practices when he get absorbed in his work, but he’s better at it than some people give him credit for. Which means he’s either deep in the middle of something he’s keeping to himself, he’s asleep because the time zones in the Imagination are all kinds of wackadoo, or he really does need to be rescued.

Which isn’t Remus’s thing, come on, Ro, you’re ruining his reputation.

By the time he gets to the Imagination, he’s already pulling out his acid-proof gloves and sharpening his Morningstar. He stops dead, however, when he sees the doors are still locked from last night. That’s weird. Maybe Ro just used his personal gate instead of the main one? But that just takes him right to his little workshop area, that’s not anywhere near where the dragons are…

He’s about to go for his gateway when he hears a quiet noise coming from Roman’s door. Frowning, he turns. Roman’s door is only a few feet away. He glances up and down the hall to make sure none of the resident sneaks are nearby—Janus and Virgil—and knocks on the door.

“Uh, busy!”

“Ro, it’s me.”

“Oh. Did you, um, did you need something?”

“You weren’t at lunch. Pat-Pat’s getting worried.”

He hears a muffled curse and the door glimmers slightly. That’s Roman’s cue that he can sink in. He stows the acid gloves and the Morningstar and sinks in, expecting Roman at his desk or on the floor puzzling over some bit of a story he can’t quite get right, but instead he sees an empty room.

“Where are you?”

“Bathroom.”

Remus pops his head through the door and blinks. “Whoa.”

”Yeah, yeah,” Roman mumbles, already reaching for the bandages curled up on the counter, “you don’t have to say it.”

”That looks—“

“I said you don’t have to say it.”

Remus slams his mouth shut, but he can’t stop staring at the acne. Throbbing red pimples that look like they’re causing Roman pain every time he so much as breathes, bigger whiteheads that have already started to ooze, blackheads that litter every inch of skin that isn’t already covered, some of which look like they’re almost on top of each other…

Roman turns his back on him and hunches his shoulders. “What do you want, Re?”

“I, uh…well, now I want to help.”

Roman laughs. It’s not funny. “There isn’t any helping this. Not until Thomas feels better.”

“Whoa. Back up. What?”

“This.” He waves a hand at his face. “This is a thing, remember?”

“Oh. Oh, right, fuck.”

“Yeah.”

Remus scrubs a hand over his face. “Can I help make it less painful while it’s going on?”

There’s a pause. Then Roman’s head turns slightly. “Would you?”

“Shit, yeah,. Roro. You’ve helped me with stuff more times than I can count on my fingers and toes, let me help you.” He gets a small huff that might be an actual that-was-kind-of-funny-I’m-feeling-better laugh. “Yeah?”

“…yeah, okay.”

“Wonder-bats! Okay, I think I still have that stuff from when we had those sores from the poison experiments…where did I put that?”

“Did you leave it in your room or my room?”

”We cleaned up here, so it should be…aha!” He takes a big plastic case from under the sink. “Go sit your perky butt on the edge of the tub, I’ll be right there.”

“…thanks, Remus.”

“What’re brothers for?”

The very first time it had happened, it had been well before Thomas had learned what it was to be attractive.

Remus had found Roman crying in his room, curled up under all the blankets he could find with tissues covering the floor.

“Ro-bro? What happened? Do I need to fight someone for you?”

“It won’t come off!”

“What won’t come off?”

Roman had peered out from under the blanket cocoon and Remus’s mouth had dropped open when he saw the words FREAK and LOSER written all across Roman’s face in permanent marker.

“Who did that? Was it Virgil? I’ll fight him!”

“No,” Roman had sniffled, “it wasn’t—wasn’t Virgil. It wasn’t any of them.”

“Did you do it? That’s more my kinda thing, isn’t it?”

“No!” Roman had wailed. “I didn’t do it! Someone—someone hurt Thomas!”

“Someone hurt Thomas? But nothing happened! We didn’t get into any fights!”

“Not like that! They were just mean. They were really mean and they said he looked ugly and they called him a f-freak and a loser and—and—“

Remus had scurried forward and wrapped his brother in a hug as he broke down in tears. “You’re not a freak or a loser, Roro. Neither is Thomas. They were wrong, you know that, right?”

”Then why won’t it come off?”

Sure enough, up close, Remus had seen the red and raw skin where Roman had scrubbed it with whatever he could find to make the words go away. Bits were even coming off on the blanket as Roman rubbed his cheek against it.

”Hey, hey, stop that. You’re hurting yourself.”

“I don’t care.”

“I care! I don’t like seeing my brother hurt!” Remus had given him a shake. “You don’t have to hurt yourself more on top of this, okay? Come on, come into the bathroom, I’ll help you.”

“Y-you will?”

“Yeah, Roro, come on.”

The twins had gone to the bathroom where towels and washcloths were still strewn around from Roman’s previous attempts. Remus had made Roman sit on the stool and reached for the soap, getting one of the washcloth more suds than cloth and trying to wipe off the words.

“That tastes so bad.”

“So keep your mouth shut.”

“But you keep wiping it over my mouth!”

“No, I’m wiping it over your cheek, which is next to your mouth. And you talking isn’t making it any better, so shush.”

Roman had grumbled silently until Remus accidentally went too roughly over one of the sore spots and Roman yelped.

“Ow!”

“Sorry, I’m sorry,. I didn’t mean to.”

“Wash it off! Wash it off!”

“Okay, okay! Come here!”

They had stumbled over to the sink and Remus practically shoved Roman’s head under the tap. He had spluttered and flailed out, splashing Remus.

”Hey! Don’t splash me!”

“I’ll splash you all I want!”

“No, you won’t!”

“Yeah, I will!”

It had…devolved from there.

The bathroom had been sopping wet by the end of it, not a towel nor tile had been spared from the twin’s water war. Their clothes were just as soaked, their hair dripping like they’d just walked through a hurricane. The sink and the bathtub still ran as if nothing were wrong and the detachable shower head in Remus’s hand sprayed as merrily as ever.

”Whoa, hey!”

“What?”

“It’s gone!”

Roman had run to the mirror, touching his face. Sure enough, the words had vanished.

”It is gone!”

”You’re welcome,” and he had taken a big bow with the shower head still spraying everywhere, “I think that means I win.”

“Whoa, wait, no, it doesn’t.”

“Yes, it does.”

”No!”

“Yes!”

It took a while longer for the war to end and even longer for the bathroom to dry.

Someone says Thomas eats too much junk food and Roman can’t stop dripping oil.

Remus finds him sitting on his bathroom floor, the drain in the shower covered with a towel. He’s sitting on towels too, towels soaked and heavy with oil as Roman’s tears fight to get out from his eyes and through the slick covering his skin.

“The others are worried,” he says quietly, lingering in the doorway, “they want to know what’s wrong.”

Roman doesn’t say anything. Remus peers a little closer and sees the telltale sheen over his mouth too. Even just thinking about how it must feel to have that much oil on his lips makes Remus shudder. He summons a washcloth from his own stash and a bottle of soap.

“Just like old times,” he says as he crouches down in front of him, “I’m gonna wash off the oil on your face, okay?”

Roman manages a small nod and Remus gets to work. Normally when he’s washing oil off stuff, he scrubs at it like he’s trying to grind it with sandpaper and the soap foams up around his wrist. But this is Roman, not some metal piece of equipment, so he goes as gently as he can without suffocating him with soap or making no progress at all. He has to stop a few times when Roman lets out a pained noise or winces at the rasp of the cloth, just holding a blotting sheet there to soak up the oil as best he can while he waits for him to settle. He makes a note to work on the heavy duty blotters in case something like this ever happens again.

At last, when Roman looks like he’s about to cry for a very different reason, the space around his lips and nose is clear enough for him to gasp out a few words.

“Sorry, thank you, sorry—“

”Shh-shh, Roro, you don’t need to apologize. Just tell me what you need.”

”’S so gross.”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I’m right here.”

Roman lets out a frustrated whine and Remus quickly pulls out his phone.

“If you tell me what Thomas needs to stop thinking about I can get Lolo on it.”

“No, then he’ll—“

“I’m not gonna tell him what’s wrong with you, okay? I’m just gonna prod them into getting Thomathy’s brain on the right track away from whatever-the-fuck-this-is-station.”

More oil starts to build up and he shoves his phone in his pocket, working on washing it away again. His presence seems to have calmed Roman down a bit; the oil comes in smaller waves this time, concentrated more around the naturally oily parts of his face rather than every inch of his skin. When he’s cleaned off the areas around his nose and mouth, he goes and starts moving to the rest of his head.

“Junk food,” Roman mumbles, as if saying it too loud would make the oil return with a vengeance, “saying bad stuff ‘bout Thomas…unhealthy…gross…”

Remus whips out his phone and sends a text to Logan about food not having a moral weight and how eating something was always better than eating nothing. He gets a text back a few seconds later that just says on it.

“Lolo cavalry is assembled, he’s going.” He tucks the phone away and keeps washing Roman off. “And I’m gonna stay right here until we get all this oil off you, okay? We can even do your thirteen-step skin care routine once it’s gone.”

“It’s not thirteen steps.”

“Whatever you wanna tell me, Roro, at least you’re not as bad as Snakey.”

It’s the first time Roman manages to laugh that day, and Remus makes sure it isn’t the last.

When Patton and Logan have near simultaneous nervous breakdowns after someone calls Thomas lazy, Remus makes sure Virgil’s wrapped around the Mindscape’s padre and Janus has Logan in his little snake den before he goes off in search of Roman.

The Imagination door is covered in cobwebs that retreat as he approaches, a few spiders waving hello as they disappear. He runs his hand over the keyhole, checking to see if it’s just an affectation, or if Roman really hasn’t been using it. He knows he has, is the thing; Roman’s had more projects on the go this month than he’s ever had before and if it weren’t for Janus and Logan dragging him out of it to make sure he didn’t completely lose touch with the Mindscape, he bets his left barnacle that Roman would’ve been living there too just so he wouldn’t miss an opportunity to keep working. And sure enough, the keyhole glows red as soon as his fingers brush it and he carefully pushes the door open.

He walks into the most statistically average middle class sitcom home he’s ever seen. Needless to say, he hates it.

”Ro? Are you here?”

There’s a faint noise coming from what he guesses is the direction of the living room and listen, as little time as he has to spend in this painfully mediocre place, the better. Seriously, he can feel the whispers of white picket fences and PTA meetings lingering ominously over his shoulder with every second he walks through these beige walls. Snatches of TV dialogue becomes audible as he makes his way through the house.

He comes to a stop.

He tilts his head.

There’s certainly a person in the living room, but it doesn’t really look like Roman. They look like every Sunday cartoon about a husband and wife where it’s terribly misogynistic and heteronormative, recliner out, bag of chips in lap, staring vacantly at the TV. It’s only the fact that they’re crying at the paid advertising programs and that Remus would recognize his brother anywhere that he knows it’s Roman.

He sits down on the plastic covered couch and tries not to look at the soulless photos of smiling families perched on the dusty mantle. Roman doesn’t look away from the screen but the hand nearest Remus twitches slightly.

“Hey,” he calls, and Roman’s head turns a little, “hey, Roro. I’m here. It’s gonna be okay. You’re gonna be okay.”

The TV blares something about a crockpot that cooks fancier meals than a normal crock pot.

“I know how shitty it is when people accuse you of being lazy. Especially when they’re just complaining that they haven’t seen anything from you.” He shuffles and the couch squeaks. “And we all know how hard you’re working. How hard Thomas is working.”

Roman’s eyes flick to his. Remus smiles and takes his hand, giving it an encouraging squeeze.

“Giving yourself a break isn’t being lazy. Having a hard time doing things isn’t lazy. Not being able to work on something because it’s just covered in the fucking ooze isn’t being lazy. You aren’t being lazy, okay? You wouldn’t even be lazy if you decided you didn’t want to work on any projects for the next year.”

The TV glitches out. Static fills the room and it actually feels like Remus can breathe. He squeezes Roman’s hand again and shifts closer. Roman stares at him with wide eyes.

”I mean it, Roro. You’re not—I know we’ve gone over this and I’ll keep giving you crowbars for as long as you need them—“

The smallest smile appears on Roman’s face.

“—but you’re not—your worth isn’t in what products or content you can make. You know i love you because you’re my brother, because you’re funny and clever and ridiculous and there’s no one I’d rather make stuff with. You could decide that you don’t want anything to do with Thomas’s career anymore—“

Roman makes a devastated noise.

“Calm down, calm down, I know that’s not true, I’m just spouting a wild hypothetical, okay? If you decided to do that and I made sure it was really you and you hadn’t lost some sort of bet, then yeah, I’d still want you to be my brother. We’d still do stuff. I don’t give a shit what everyone else thinks.”

”…promise?”

Remus could sob with relief at actually hearing Roman’s voice come out, and he grins so wide his cheeks start to hurt. “I promise, Roro, I promise. You’re not lazy, you’re resting, and even if you were, I wouldn’t care.”

‘’M not trying to be lazy. It’s—I’m just—“

“Shh, shh, Roro, it’s okay,” The bag of chips falls to the ground and catches fire as Remus tugs his brother into his arms. “I’m right here. You’re doing so good, okay? Thomas is too.”

Remus doesn’t burn the house down because he’s had too many lectures from Janus about that, but he does get a big cartoon wrecking ball to smash the whole thing into smithereens.

He does burn the recliner though. And the plastic-covered couch. They deserved it.

The latex gloves snap on as Roman sits on the edge of the tub with a grunt. He picks up the rest of the kit and sets it on the stool.

”Do you know what it’s about this time?”

“Someone said something about how immature Thomas is being about criticism and how he can’t take care of things, something like that.”

“Why did it manifest as acne, then?”

”I don’t know, maybe something about how teenagers who are hormonal and don’t really know how to take care of their skin get acne?”

Remus snorts. “Do people still not understand that acne happens and can happen to anyone regardless of age?”

‘Apparently not.”

“Well, they can go lick the Kraken’s crack.”

“Ew, Remus.”

“Just trying to keep the mood light.” He picks up one of the cotton swabs and a paper towel and leans down. “I’m gonna try and clean up some of the wet stuff first, okay? Then we can actually get onto some relief.”

“You’re not gonna pop any of them, are you?”

“I don’t think so. At least not right now.”

”Because I really don’t want this to scar.”

Remus hums, carefully running the swab over a particularly inflamed part of his cheek. “Can you give me a pain rating?”

”Like a 6? It’s not that bad but it’s not a pain I’m used to it’s…freaking me out.”

“Understandable, have a nice day. If it ever gets too much, let me know and we’ll switch to a cool pack, okay?”

Roman hums as Remus goes to work. A pile of discarded swabs and other trash accumulates at Remus’s elbow as he works patiently around the various, uh, ‘zones.’ They have to stop a few times when it gets to a point where Roman’s whole face just aches, waiting for it to subside enough that Remus can keep going.

“There are a couple down here that look like they’re ready to go, do you want me to just get ‘em out?”

”Be careful.”

“Sure, yeah. If it starts to hurt lemme know and I’ll back off right away.”

He gets a few of them, a few more putting up too much of a fight so he leaves them be. Out of the corner of his eye, he sees Roman heroically stop two or three whimpers before he lightly jabs him in the stomach and tells him to knock that posturing shit off, he doesn’t need it here.

“…thanks, Re.”

“I told you, it hurts too much, I stop.”

“I know.” He shifts on the tub. “I think it’s just…hard to remember.”

Remus frowns, glancing up at him. Roman fiddles with the hem of his prince costume.

“You know…with the others?”

”No. I don’t know, Ro.”

“They don’t—they’re—they want Princey, Prince Roman. Not…the rest of this.” He waves his hand to indicate the cotton carnage. “So it’s hard to…”

He trails off when he sees the expression on Remus’s face.

“What?”

”You mean they don’t know?”

“Know what?”

“That this—“ he waves at Roman— “happens to you. Any of it.”

“I mean, they know I’m the Ego and it makes sense that I get hurt when Thomas feels bad, but—“

”But not how much.” Roman won’t meet his gaze. “Fuck, Ro.”

“…it’s complicated.”

“Shit, no, I’m not—look at me, Ro. I’m not mad at you. I’m just—this wasn’t what I’d hoped.”

Roman frowns. “What do you mean, what you hoped?”

Remus sighs. This is turning into way more of a conversation than he’d ever anticipated. Glancing around, he picks up the cold pack and hands to to Roman before taking a seat on the counter. His legs swing and kick at the cabinets with a quiet thunk-thunk, thunk-thunk.

“When the Split happened, and we went to the Dark Sides, I…dunno, I guess I thought it would be…better.”

“Because we were separated?”

“What? No, no, because I had the stuff like Deceit and Anxiety with me, so they couldn’t make any of this stuff worse—not that they would,” he says when Roman opens his mouth to protest, and wow, have they come a long way, “but just ‘cause…well, yeah. You had Logic and Morality, who were—doesn’t that make sense? That they would be able to help?”

Roman sighs. He picks at the edge of the ice pack. “It’s not that simple.”

“Then explain it to me.”

“Logan’s thing is object impermanence, you know that.” Remus winces in sympathy. “But having someone tell you something isn’t real when you can feel it and it is real, to you, that’s not…that’s not helpful. It’s better if he just goes right to Thomas than coming to me.”

“And Patton?”

Roman lets out a humorless huff. “Thomas is feeling bad and Patton is Thomas’s feelings. How do you think that normally goes?”

…yeah, probably not great.

“It’s not all bad,” he continues, softer now, “they’re at least good when I tell them I don’t want to be disturbed. They don’t ask questions if I tell them I don’t want to talk about it.”

“That feels suspiciously like the bare minimum.” Roman shrugs. “I know I literally just said the opposite, but do Janus and Virgil…?”

“They’re both better at comforting the others. It’s okay, Re, I have you. I really only want you when it’s…bad like this.”

“Me? Why?”

“You get it.”

Remus chuckles, getting back up and picking up the next tool. “That simple, huh?”

“Sometimes it’s just that simple.”

”Aw, I love you too, Roro. You’re the specialist baby brother any Side could ever ask for.”

“You—what the hell do you mean, ‘baby brother?’”

“You’re the baby brother.”

“I am not.”

“Are too.”

“Am not.”

“Are too. Now hush so I don’t accidentally poke your eye out.”

“I’m gonna get you back for this.”

“Oh, I’m so scared about that. Now hold still, Roro, let’s get this out of the way so you can feel better.”

“…love you.”

“I love you too.”

+1.

The Imagination is upset. Roman feels it the second he steps foot through the door and forgoes his normal prince costume for a rougher tunic and boots, strapping his sword to his hip and an emergency pack to his back. The wind blows frigid and punishing over the grass as he starts down the trail, squinting through the dust clouds whipping up around him. The clouds frown around the edges of the tree line, darkening to a stormy black near the edge of the coast. As he nears the black cliffs, rocks crumble beneath him and tumble into a churning sea.

He edges carefully around the craggy rock face, keeping his movements light and careful. Spray whips him in the face as thunder rolls in the distance. The chill near rips his fingers from their precarious handholds. He grits his teeth and keeps going, even as the wind howl so loudly his ears near split from the pain.

There, a little ways down the cliff, is a small cove. He inches his way around the edge of the bluff and drops onto a larger path leading him along the coast. There isn’t any sand here, only rough and unyielding stone. Froth and foam given them gleaming white teeth as the waves churn furiously around the mouth of the sea. He follows the path down, down towards he massive cracks in the sheer rock face, one eye on the black water below him. Despite being so close to the shore, there’s no sign of a bottom and he doesn’t want to risk how deep it is. There’s no telling what current might rip him into the open ocean if he falls in.

The cove is shaped like a spear’s point, the crack in the cliff at its very point as though some massive weapon had shattered the rocks themselves. As Roman nears it, the shadow at the base of the path slowly grows more and more defined, until he realizes that it’s a path through the cliff. The cove is an inlet leading into a hidden sea cave with a vast black lake in its center. Roman peers up at the glistening wet walls, hand on the wall as the wind whistles angrily by.

The water moves. He looks down. Something massive slips just underneath the surface, sending ripples to the shore. He crouches down and sees a huge shape getting closer and closer to the surface. An eye the size of a dining table glares up at him through the water and long arms with rows and rows of hooks reach up toward him.

“Ollie, it’s me. It’s Roman.”

The Kraken pause. The hooked arms retreat and he pokes his head up, letting out a mournful burble. Roman reaches over and taps the water. One of his other arms comes up and Roman pets soothingly along the skin.

“What’s the matter, buddy? What’s going on?”

Ollie burbles again and Roman suddenly realizes why the hooked arms were the ones to reach for him. Beneath the surface, the Kraken’s arms form a cradle of sorts, holding something close to the Kraken’s massive body. As the water shifts and ripples, the thing comes closer and closer to surface, slowly moving to reveal its precious cargo.

And there, nestled in the Kraken’s grip, covered in his own writhing tentacles, is Remus.

“Oh, Re,” Roman murmurs as his brother twitches and whimpers, “what happened? Who did this?”

Ollie burbles again, holding him out, and Roman balances on the edge of the shoreline and stretches to hold on. The Kraken lifts him up and into the cradle too, letting him touch Remus’s frigid skin and shake him awake.

“Re? Re, wake up, it’s okay, I’m here to help.”

The tentacles writhe as Remus stirs, blinking through a pained haze up at Roman. “…Ro?”

“Hey, Re, it’s me. It’s okay, you’re gonna be okay. What happened?”

“Thoughts got too loud.” A tentacle leaves a thick trail of slime across his arm and he shudders. “Sorry.”

“What could you have to be sorry for?”

“‘S gross.”

“You stop that,” Roman chides gently, running his fingers through Remus’s wet hair, “I don’t care if something’s gross, I care if it’s hurting you.”

Remus whimpers, clutching at one of Ollie’s arms. The Kraken squeaks back, trying in vain to warm him up, but there’s only so much he can do in this freezing cave. Roman glances around and bites his lip.

“Does it feel better in the water? Is that why you came down here?”

“Yeah. Ollie came and f-found me.”

Roman pats the worried Kraken. “What do we need to do? Is it like caring for Ollie’s arms?”

“N-no. Like helping the jelly—jellyfish with the twisted—twisted ones.”

He’ll bet just about anything that this frigid water isn’t helping Remus do that, and it’s not like Ollie has opposable thumbs. He goes to slide into the water himself but Ollie chirps in alarm, hoisting them higher.

“What’re you doing?”

“I’m trying to help.“

Remus shakes his head, more slime trailing across his shivering body. “Too cold for you.”

“Well, then it’s definitely too cold for you. Can we get you somewhere warmer?” Remus curls up a little more. “What about that pool near the glowstone trees?”

“That’s all the way on your side.”

“Ollie can take you. I’ll meet you over there.” Remus stays quiet. Roman leans down and brushes the wet hair from his eyes. “What else is bothering you, Re?”

Two of the tentacles glob onto Roman and start leaving trails of slime across his tunic. Remus whimpers and reaches out a hand to yank them away. It’s no use; the roiling mass just keeps smearing slime onto Roman as they try to pull him closer, no matter how hard Remus shoves them away.

Oh.

“Re, you’re not too gross. You’re not going to ruin anything. I want you to come with me so I can help you. I care about you. Let me help, please?”

It takes a painfully long moment for Remus to peek up at him and nod. Roman can’t stop the way his shoulders sag in relief and he sits up, patting Ollie’s arm as the Kraken burbles happily.

“You…you really wanna help?”

“Of course I wanna help you, Re, you’re my brother.”

“Okay.”

“Have Ollie take you over to the pool, okay? I’ll meet you there.”

“How are you gonna get there?”

“I have my ways.”

Remus grumbles and he sounds just enough like his normal self that Roman has to reach down and ruffle his hair, no matter how much Remus squawks about it. He climbs back off to the shore and watches Ollie sinks below the surface before he makes his way out to the ocean proper. Taking the charm from beneath his tunic, he closes his eyes and concentrates.

A screaming cry and the massive thudding of wings splits the wind.

Roman’s dragon lands just on the other side of the bluffs and he climbs on, taking off and soaring over the stormy sea. The dragon calls out over the waves and far beneath, he can see the shape of Ollie swimming through the depths. The clouds begin to part as they near the opposite coast, sun rays splitting the worst of the storm as the glowing trees appear on the horizon.

Roman’s dragon sets him down just on the edge of the shimmering pool. He pats its snout and it huffs, lying down on the sun-warmed grass and closing its eyes. As he walks toward the pool and begins to take off his boots, he spots Ollie’s shade moving through the inlet into the warmer water. He chuckles at the way the water vibrates with the Kraken’s pleased rumble.

Clad in just his boxers, he slips into the water and through the tangle of arms to draw Remus into the warmth. Remus immediately tuns and clings to him like a limpet, shivering from the temperature change.

“I know, I know,” Roman murmurs as he starts to work his hands patiently through the mass of tentacles, “just hold onto me. I can still kind of stand here, I’ve got you.”

”You gonna take care of me?”

“Yeah, Re, I’m gonna take care of you.”

He’s rewarded with a sleepy hum and Remus snuggles into him. “You’re the best.”

“No, you’re the best. The best baby brother anyone could ever ask for.”

“Am not.”

“Are too.”

Remus might mutter an am not back, but it’s muffled by his tired slump into Roman’s arms. Roman just chuckles. He’s sure it’ll come up again at some point.

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

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