#a crown of figments and deceit

[astromythical]

My Notes On Thia -- History

It's been goddamn ages since I promised worldbuilding notes for Thia, but I've remembered now, so here you go:

Okay, so as I check my notes, which somehow ended up being fifty pages, I've decided to split them up into several sections. I don't have the patience to post everything at once, so this will have to do.

I'm gonna start with the history. Should be straightforward and easy to explain, right? (If you happen to be knowledgeable in history, I’m sorry, I tried my best, but if you have any suggestions on how I can improve this, I will gladly take the advice)

Anyway. Let’s start. I’m gonna stick in some climate in here as well. I’m sorry, but it’s necessary. i think

So, Thia is a pretty cold place, despite being roughly where Australia is when it comes to latitude. Most of Thia has cold deserts. Is this important? Honestly, I’m not even sure anymore, but my notes say it is, so.

First things first, the Eurabics and the Imazons come south. They’re from the north, which has a hella lot amount of hot deserts. It’s hot. They’re used to hot. But Solnata is cold. Already living there are the Turchians and the Efratics, and they’re cool with their new neighbours. (I think you can tell where this is going.)

Then, the Eurabics and the Imazons decide, nahhh. They're going to take over the land. It's a joint decision, but what ends up happening is that the Eurabics, led by Farouk III, took over. Farouk III ends up king, and a bunch of cities are built, but the public is basically divided between Eurabics and Imazons. The Eurabics are more cityfolk, while the Imazons are more countryfolk, though there are still crossover between the two groups.

I think it's obvious by now that I take real historical events and put them in a different universe. It's just easier for me to make things realistic.

So, the capital gets built. Its name is Husanol, named after Husan, the Solnatans' moon god, and it was a walled city. Inside was one of the largest Solnatan ziggurat to have ever been built. A ziggurat is essentially just a pyramidal stepped temple tower. It's for worship. Anyway, they built a temple at the city's heart, and it was named Maq'bur, or The Tower of Time, which took around a decade to complete, and was where the royal family and court lived. All in all, the city took about three centuries to complete.

Fifteen years after Farouk III becomes king, he marries Bohlokoa el-Akhtar. She's essentially the mastermind. Farouk's just the pretty face. She's the one that gave Solnata a successful economy from agriculture, ironworking, and textiles, and for a long, long time, it was Farouk III who took the credit. But the in-universe textbooks heavily imply that without her, Farouk's reign would've crashed and burned much earlier. They had three children, Farouk IV, Iritis, and Ankhta. After Farouk III retired, Farouk IV took his place.

Fast forward to 2580 Husan Era, and conflict really starts brewing. The Imazons have been slowly wanting more power, and in 2580, an Imazon army led by Ngotso Mbala attacked Husanol. Eventually, they win, in 2584, with a death count of over 600 000. The capital was moved, due to damages done to Husanol. The new capital, Angchengan, is not walled off, and made of solid stone. It has many murals and a warm palette. It glows at night like the Niagara Falls because why not.

Another thing that comes with the Imazons is their new god, Sul, goddess of the sun. They keep Husan as Solnata's patron god, but Sul now shares the position with him. I have a whole story to talk about for them, but I'll leave that for the religion post.

Anyway, in 356 Sul Era, there's a war going on between Panaling and Mavaria, over an ancient crown called the Crown of Sight. It's powerful, and that's basically the extent that people know about it, but it's enough to incite war. Approximately 800 000 Xiatzu civilians flee to Solnata, pleading to Solnata's king at the time, King Oluchi II, to help them. King Oluchi sends armies to fight against the Mavarians, AKA the Efratics, and since then, Solnata and Mavaria have been strong enemies. Eventually, the Solnatan Xiatzus become the Hantzu, as their language changes.

And then there are the racists. Or maybe they're not racists, and they're just afraid of Mavaria retaliating against Solnata in the future. Whatever their reason, the Solnatans in the Pahyarayan Territory protested the presence of the Hantzu, and when they were ignored, they seceded from Solnata. My explanation is that King Oluchi didn't want to bother reclaiming that land, though I'm open to other suggestions, since that explanation's a little flimsy. This chunk of land later became Tesirma.

Now, in 498 S.E., a group of people who called themselves the Apostatians attacked villages, wanting to convert people to Apostatism. Bad way to do it, but sometimes people are stupid. King Labaris sends a battalion to defeat them, and the Apostatian Crusade ends after a few months and 3 000 deaths.

Then, famine strikes. It's mostly in Tesirma, but it does affect Solnata a tad bit, though ultimately Solnata did not come to Tesirma's aid. It's estimated that about 1 200 Solnatans died.

In 853, the Solnatan-Mavarian Cold War begins. It's a bit of economic warfare + buying your enemy's enemy stuff so they can win. Solnata is at war with Nali, which lasts thirteen years, and Mavaria is at war with Panaling, which lasts twenty years. The Cold War ends in 863, with no winner. They both lose.

We're almost at present-day!! So, in 1378, Mavaria sends soldiers to burn down Angchengan. It doesn't work, because, well... Angchengan doesn't burn. Angchengan is made of pure stone. You dummies. A year later, Mavaria sends a group of skilled assassins to assassinate the king of Solnata, Adesyana. They fail and are eventually caught.

Of course, Solnata doesn't like that. So, the Thirty Years' War begins! It only ends in 1408, with a death count of 6 million. Rumour has it that it was divine intervention by Sul, who generated a firestorm that stopped the war. Others say that it was a fire Ruhanik. A few suggest that Prince Adesyana II knows something about it. :D

And that's basically it for the history of the Solnatan Empire!! If you're still here and have read through all my rambling, thank you!! I'll get the geography part up next, though I can't say when that'll be. Might be tomorrow, might be next year. But yeah, thanks for reading!

#fantasy #writers on tumblr #worldbuilding #fantasy world #solnata #a crown of figments and deceit #acofad #notes #my ramblings #this is just the cliffnotes bc i'm lazy but i could totally ramble some more if requested

[emy-loves-you]

Sweet Tooth

AKA 3 times Patton gave away his lollipops, and one time he took them back.

DLMR (Janus/Logan/Patton/Remus), Patton POV

Word Count: 3,768

Thank you to everyone that helped with this fic (especially @cute-and-angsty-princess for coming up with the original idea!)

Masterlist

The first time was a complete accident.

Patton had always had a love for sweets. Candies specifically. Jellybeans, chocolate bars, gumdrops, you name it. He loved every sugary treat Thomas had ever eaten, and he always had a few candies in his pocket just in case. It’s always a different candy each time. Somedays he’ll have Hershey kisses to eat between recordings, other days he'll have a pack of bubble gum to chew on and blow pretty pink bubbles.

Today, he had lollipops.

Patton vividly remembered these lollipops as a reward for doing his job well. Every time that Thomas did good at the doctor’s office or behaved in certain restaurants, his parents would get him a tiny flavored lollipop to suck on. They were overly sweet and just the right size, and every time Thomas had one Patton would be flooded with happiness because he did a good job.

And Patton felt like he deserved a lollipop today. Thomas had been struggling with a moral dilemma, and Patton had done his best to stand his ground without being pushy. It was difficult for Patton to find the middle ground between compliant and overbearing, but he was getting better at it with Janus’ help.

So here Patton was, sitting on the couch, a green apple lollipop in his mouth. He changed the flavor a little when he summoned it, so it was the perfect mix of sweet and bitter. He also made sure there was enough food coloring in it to stain his lips the prettiest shade of green.

(It had absolutely nothing to do with Remus giving Patton such a dazzling smile when he supported the dark side’s tamer ideas today. And it definitely had nothing to do with how Patton had wondered it the creative side’s lips would taste sweet or bitter, or if he’d still be able to feel them on his lips after they kissed, like the green color that stained his lips. Nope, not at all)

Anyways, here Patton was, enjoying a lollipop for a job well done. He was also updating a few of his scrapbooks, since he hadn’t done it in a while (a while being 2 weeks, but there were so many new memories to add, and so many old memories to look over and reminisce). He had just finished gluing the last photo in place when-

“BOOBS!”

Patton shrieked, though it was more amusement than fear, as he jumped off the couch. Remus had popped up on the other side, chuckling as the moral side regained his composure. “I got you this time Daddy-O!”

Patton giggled, sitting up. Ever since Remus had been accepted, Patton had grown used to his disturbing imagery and tendency to pop up anywhere. Remus had seen that as a challenge, and now tried to scare Patton whenever he could (Patton didn’t think he was trying very hard though, especially since he never used spiders and the goriest thing he used was a ‘beating heart’ made entirely out of cherry-flavored gummies).

Remus huffed, crossing his arms. “I did! I saw the fear in your eyes! I could smell your fear, from the top of your head to the tip of your-” He suddenly stopped, looking over at the table. “What’s that?”

Patton looked over and smiled around his lollipop. “Oh! It’s my scrapbook.” He got up and went to flip through it but Remus stopped him, just looking at the current page. He pointed to a picture of Remus and Roman working on an idea together, but the photo was obviously more focused on the green-clad twin. He was doing something that required careful precision, and his nose was scrunched up slightly while the tip of his tongue was peeking out under his mustache.

Remus had an odd expression on his face while he looked at the photo. “...I didn’t realize you were there.”

Patton blushed, looking away. “Well that’s the point, silly! It wouldn’t have been real if you were posing for it.”

He kept that same odd expression as he started at the photo. “I guess you’re right…” He suddenly looked up, staring at Patton with that same look on his face. “What’s with the new lipstick?”

Patton frowned. “My new lip- oh!” He pulled his lollipop out and gestured with it. “It’s just my lollipop. I guess it stained more than I thought it wou- eep!”

Remus suddenly took the lollipop into his mouth, his mustache brushing against Patton’s fingers before he pulled away, taking the lollipop with him. The dark sides hummed, pulling the candy out of his mouth with a loud pop! “Green apple, my favorite! Thanks Pattypop!”

Before Patton could even think about forming words, Remus had sunk out, presumably to go enjoy the rest of the lollipop. Patton let out a strangled squeak and got up, grabbing his scrapbook and rushing back to his room.

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The second time was technically accidental.

It had been 3 days since what Patton had dubbed the “Apple Accident,” and he was now able to look Remus in the eye without turning into a blushing mess. It helped that Remus never mentioned the incident, being his normal chaotic self and acting like it never happened.

It was now just after midnight and Patton was searching through the cabinets for a late night snack. Technically he could summon a treat for himself, but he was tired and just wanted to explore the kitchen and see what he could find. He was thankful that no one was awake this late into the night, so they couldn’t walk in and see how red the father figment’s cheeks were from blushing.

He had just woken up a few minutes ago from a rather interesting (and unfortunately recurring) dream. It wasn’t anything… risqué, but it was still mortifying. It always started with Patton alone in a flower field, making flower crowns. He would be halfway done with his crown before one of his crushes joined him. Usually it was just one crush, but sometimes it was two or all three of them. And Patton would lean forward for a kiss just moments before he woke up, his heart racing. This most recent one had been a little different, ending with a yellow lollipop being gently tugged from his mouth and a gloved hand cupping his cheek-

Patton shook his head, blushing hard. He came downstairs to forget about that! He just wanted to grab a treat and ignore the way his heart pounded at the thought of-

Oh. My. Gosh.

At the top of the candy drawer was a lemon-flavored lollipop. He must’ve put it there when he refilled it yesterday. Patton tentatively took the lollipop out of the drawer, the small candy suddenly feeling much more important than usual. He shouldn’t…

Patton ripped off the wrapper and quickly put it into his mouth, sighing softly as the sweet-yet-sour flavor assaulted his senses. He felt like he was doing something forbidden, and that only added to the pleasure.

“Well, well, well. What do we have here?”

Patton jumped and spun around to see Janus in the doorway. He tasted the lollipop on his tongue and suddenly felt like a kid caught stealing from the cookie jar. “Janus! What are you doing up so late?” He suddenly remembered the dream he had and was thankful that the dim lighting of the kitchen hid his blush.

If the deceitful side noticed his gay panicking, he didn’t mention it. “I was just looking for something sweet to have. A little bit of self-indulgence before bed.” He stepped closer, and Patton noticed his attire. Janus was wearing a pair of silk black pajamas, just a size too big so the sleeves were loose and the collar dipped down to expose part of his chest. Pale yellow-green scales ran down his neck and chest, even stretching to the tips of his fingers on his left hand. It was almost mind-boggling to just see Janus without his hat and gloves, much less the rest of his usual outfit. Patton was starting to wonder if the scales covered exactly half of his body or if they formed some sort of pattern under his shirt when Janus spoke up. “Lemon?”

Patton looked up from where he was staring at Janus’ collarbone, his blush growing deeper as he cleared his throat. “Pardon?”

Janus took another step closer, sticking his tongue out again to scent the air around him (which Patton found extremely adorable). “Is that lollipop lemon-flavored? If so, where can I find another one?”

“Oh! Yes it is! I uh-” Patton thought back to the candy drawer behind him. It might have another lemon lollipop, but Patton wasn’t sure. And if it was the only one, then the only way he could have one would be- “I’m pretty sure this is the only one.”

If Janus noticed the lie, he didn’t mention it. Instead, he stepped closer, causing Patton to scoot back as far as he could against the counter. Janus smirked, slinking closer until he was inches away from him. “Well then...” He reached up to cup his jaw, the smooth scales on his hand feeling like electricity to the moral side. “...I guess I’ll just have to…” His other hand tugged lightly on the lollipop. “...take it.”

Patton’s heart was racing as he opened his mouth, letting the lollipop easily slide out. He tilted his head slightly, waiting to be pulled closer, ready to be kissed-

Patton didn’t realize that his eyes were closed until Janus pulled away. He opened his eyes to see Janus smirking, the yellow lollipop pressed against his scaled lips. Patton held his breath as the dark side wrapped his snake-like tongue around the lollipop and pulled it into his mouth, pulling a breathless gasp from the moral side. “Mmmh, sweet, just how I like it. And the lollipop’s good too, I guess.” Patton squeaked, blushing hard as Janus chuckled. “Goodnight, Sweet Heart.” Patton opened his mouth to respond, but he had already sunk out.

Patton stood in the kitchen for several minutes, just staring at the spot Janus had been in. His fingers reached up to trace his lower lip, the lemony sweet-yet-sour flavor still fresh on his tongue. He let out one last squeak before sinking out to his room, burying his face into his pillow and screaming.

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The third time was entirely on purpose.

It was the morning after his encounter with Janus and Patton was still feeling… something (bold, flirtatious, flustered? He couldn’t tell). So when the opportunity for another… interesting experience with lollipops arose, the father figment couldn’t resist.

Breakfast was over and almost everyone had left to start their day. Remus and Roman were in the imagination, Virgil was hanging out in his room, and Janus had left to go help Thomas have a full self-care day. Patton had just finished doing the dishes and was currently sucking on a cherry-flavored lollipop (he’d become addicted to lollipops recently. It had nothing to do with the two flirtatious encounters he had surrounding lollipops. Nope, not at all). Patton was sitting on the countertop while Logan moved around the kitchen, presumably getting his morning coffee before leaving. Patton was shocked that instead of turning on the coffee pot like expected, Logan opened up one of the lower cabinets and started digging through it. “Uh, Lo? What are you doing?”

The logical side grunted, trying to dig through the piles of pots and pans. “I’ve come to realize that my… fondness towards coffee is negatively impacting Thomas, Virgil, and myself in terms of overall anxiety and degree of focus. Janus suggested an alternative form of caffeine consumption.” He grunted again before grinning in triumph, turning to show Patton the tea kettle he’d found. “Some green tea with honey should be a good substitute for my normal coffee.” Patton then remembered four things at once:

There was no honey in the kitchen because he used it all this morning to make honey biscuits

When Thomas was younger he did a project on candy and learned that the first lollipops were just honey on a stick, which are called honey spoons and are used to sweeten tea

Logan is Patton’s third crush, and the only crush he hasn’t had a flirtatious lollipop moment with

Patton was still sucking on a cherry lollipop

Patton quickly waved his hand while Logan wasn’t looking, removing any traces of cherry and replacing it with a honey spoon. “Well, I know we used the rest of the liquid honey to make breakfast, but I do know where a honey spoon is.”

Logan turned back to face him, smiling gratefully. “Thank you Patton, I really appreciate it.” When Patton didn’t move to grab anything, he tilted his head in confusion. “Uh, where exactly is this honey spoon?”

Patton put on his most innocent expression. “Oh! It’s right here!” He pointed to the honey spoon in his mouth, the sweet treat starting to melt across his tongue. “As long as you’re fine with sharing with me.”

Logan blushed, clearing his throat as he adjusted his tie. “I...I could just summon another one…”

Patton tilted his head to the side, trying not to let his smirk show. “You could. Or…” He leaned forwards slightly, maintaining eye contact the entire time. “You could take mine.”

The logical side stepped forward, looking lost as he reached out but didn’t grab the honey spoon. Patton pulled it out with a soft pop, honey smearing across his lips as he handed over the treat. Logan went to grab the stick and their hands briefly touched, both of them shuddering from the contact. Logan sounded slightly breathless as he stepped back, pulling the honey spoon with him. “Thank you, Hon- I mean! Thank you for the honey, Patton.”

Patton smiled dazedly, his heart melted like the leftover honey on his tongue. “No problem! And Lo? I’d like it if you called me that again.” He quickly sunk out before he could see Logan’s reaction, popping up in his room. He squeaked as he realized what he just did and buried his face into his pillow, ignoring the blush on his cheeks.

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Things were starting to get out of hand.

It’s been a week since Patton handed over his first honey spoon to Logan, and a sort of competition has started to form. The rules were simple: if Patton was alone with a lollipop that corresponded with the side in question (green apple for Remus, lemon for Janus, honey spoon for Logan), that side takes it, and shows said lollipop off to the other two sides (Patton didn’t even realize that last part until he walked in on Remus showing off his freshly-stolen lollipop to Janus). Patton almost always had lollipops on him by this point, since at least one of them would show up every hour to snatch one in their own way. Patton had even altered the lollipops to the way they preferred them!

Remus liked his lollipops to be drenched in food coloring, so it stained his (and subsequently Patton’s) lips and tongue for hours, even after just a few minutes of eating it. The creative side would pop in and try to scare Patton like he always did. Then he would mess with the moral side for a few minutes before asking what flavor the lollipop was (he didn’t even need to ask that, Patton’s lips were always shamrock green when he had Remus’ lollipop). Instead of offering the green apple lollipop in his pocket, Patton would take it out and start gesturing with it. Then, when Patton was in the middle of a sentence, Remus would grab the treat with his mouth, his mustache (and sometimes lips) brushing against Patton’s fingertips before pulling away, taking the candy with him.

Janus liked his lollipops to have a really strong flavoring, so the taste lingered for hours after you tasted it. He would saunter into the room and make up an excuse about needing some candy for ‘self-care’ before asking if Patton had another one. Patton would ignore the lemon lollipop sitting in his pocket and lie, saying that this was the only one he had. Janus would then slither up to him, cup his cheek with one hand and gently pry the lollipop out of his mouth with the other. Then he would take it while commenting that it’s “not as sweet as you.”

Logan liked his honey spoons to easily melt into his drink, so when Patton handed it over there was a sticky trail of honey along his lips. He would always appear with a new mug of tea, spend a few moments chatting about what happened last time he saw Patton, and then shyly ask with a blush if the father figment could share his honey spoon. Patton would always end up getting honey on his lips as he handed it over, and they would both blush as their fingers touched before Logan stirred his tea and left.

Patton knew that he should end this game, but he couldn’t. Every exchange felt like a forbidden moment, like an unspoken rule between the four of them. Every minute of Patton’s day was filled with anticipation, and every night was filled with dreams of lollipops and flower crowns and kisses under the summer sun. He wanted to break the spell, he really did, but he was scared. He was afraid that if he tried to step off of the tedious tightrope they had made, he would fall and no one would be there to catch him. He was pretty sure that they wanted him the same way he wanted them, but what if he was wrong? No, it was safer to just ignore his feelings and savor their little game while they still wanted to play.

And that worked, for about a week.

You see, there was another unspoken rule that Patton hadn’t realized until now: whenever one of his crushes walked into the room, Patton was supposed to change his lollipop to match their tastes. Green apple for Remus, lemon for Janus, and honey for Logan. Plain and simple. Barring his first incident with Logan, Patton had been doing this subconsciously. And another rule that seemed to be unspoken was that his crushes always appeared at random times throughout the day. This wouldn’t matter if they decided to tell each other when they were visiting Patton,but they didn’t.

So here Patton was in his room, enjoying a blue lollipop (it was supposed to be cotton-candy flavored, but Patton wasn’t sure what it actually tasted like) when all three of his crushes decided to pop in at the exact same time. Patton decided to stay quiet, curious about what they would do now that one of their rules was unintentionally broken.

At first they just tried to intimidate the other two into leaving. That was a fun glaring match to see. Then they began making excuses as to why they needed to talk to Patton alone, which said moral side found extremely amusing. Then they decided that whatever flavor lollipop Patton had would determine who got to stay. Patton was confused by that one. Even though the candy was fully in Patton’s mouth, it was obviously not one of their flavors. His lips weren’t shamrock green, he didn’t smell strongly of lemons, and there wasn’t a glaze of honey across his mouth. Then Patton realized it:

They wanted him to change the lollipop flavor and choose. Choose between the three of them. Well, that won’t do at all.

With one snap, the blue lollipop was gone and each side had their respective lollipop in their mouth. They all looked ready to speak but Patton beat them to it. “Nuh uh, it’s my turn to talk now. Got it?” They nodded and Patton smiled, relaxing slightly. “Good. Now, I feel like we’ve reached a bit of a misunderstanding here. You think you can waltz in here, claim my lollipops like they’re yours, argue over who I get to give them to, all without me getting what I want?” He tutted, sauntering forward. “Shameful, all of you.”

All three of them looked away for a moment, blushing in embarrassment. “What did you want?” Logan, always straight to the point.

He chuckled, stepping closer to the logical side. “It’s simple really. I think it’s my turn to take a lollipop or three.” He grabbed the stick of the honey spoon and tugged gently, smiling when Logan willingly opened his mouth. Honey trickled down his chin as Patton took the lollipop, and he gently grabbed Logan’s jaw when he tried to close his jaw. “Nuh uh, I want all the honey.” He leaned closer, giving Logan time to back out before kissing him.

It was exhilarating, tasting Patton’s candy on Logan’s lips. The sweetness of the honey only made the taste of Logan even better. He savored the taste like he would never taste it again, sighing softly into the kiss. When he pulled back, he smiled at Logan’s dumbstruck gaze before turning to his next crush.

The human side of Janus’ face was bright red as he stared at Patton, the lemon lollipop hanging limply from his open mouth. Patton chuckled and cupped Janus’ cheek, taking out the lemon lollipop before pressing their lips together. The lemon was stronger, much stronger than Logan’s lollipop, but that only made him pull Janus deeper into the kiss, desperate to find the taste that was purely Janus. There was still quite a bit of honey on Patton’s mouth and Janus seemed to notice, his tongue brushing against his bottom lip. Patton groaned before pulling away, turning to his third crush.

Remus didn’t even give him time to catch his breath before pulling him close, smashing their lips together. Patton felt the creative side’s mustache tickle his nose and he giggled into the kiss. He couldn’t taste much of the green apple, the lemon flavoring still assaulting his taste buds, but he knew that his lips were being dyed that lovely shade of green as he kissed him.

When Patton finally pulled back, he sat on his bed, three lollipops in hand. His three crushes (boyfriends? Lovers? They needed to clarify that soon) trailed behind him, situating themselves around him. “You’re going to spoil your appetite.” Logan warned him as he looked down at the three treats.

Patton chuckled. “I know, and I don’t care. Because there are only three things I ever wanna have, and they’re all right here in front of me.”

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Taglist: @bisexualdisaster106 @self-taught-mess @arodynamic-enby @sanderssides-angst @whatishappeningrightnow @idont-freaking-know @cute-and-angsty-princess @artsy-enby09 @girl-who-reads @larrymalecsolangelo

#sanders sides fic #oneshot #patton sanders #remus sanders #janus sanders #logan sanders #tw food

[ambersky0319]

Idea: Intrulogical fusion, completely in sync despite being a fusion of Remus and Logan. But Virgil and Patton didn't like it. Virgil because, It's Remus. He shouldn't be with a lightside. Patton because it makes him feel like he failed Logan, after all, hes eith Remus. So they force them apart. But, their roles are switched. Logan looks like King George III, but he has shackles & broken crown. Remus looks like your stereotypical mad scientist. They have no memory of who they once were. -Rayne

I had a lot of fun with this- also I decided to draw Macabre! It also ended up being longer than I intended. I hope y’all enjoy this!

Pairings : Intrulogical, Background Roceit

Warnings : Unsympathetic Patton, Morally gray but also pretty Unsympathetic Virgil (I mean, he feels somewhat regretful of what he does at the end-), Fusion, blood and pain mentions, if I need to add anything else please let me know!

Masterpost 

—————————–

It started off as something small- an idea that Remus had, which Logan was more than happy to try. They were just figments of imagination, after all, it’s not like it was an impossibility. And it took a lot longer than either side believed it should have taken, but they got there.

Logan and Remus fused.

When they first fused, they cried. Tears streamed down their cheeks as they hugged themselves because it just felt so incredible, so loving. They hadn’t even looked in a mirror yet, but it felt right, being together like this. They fell to the ground just hugging themselves, rocking back and forth. He wasn’t them, though, and both Logan and Remus knew that. They could feel that. And when he looked in the mirror, that’s when they fell apart.

Logan and Remus were choking back tears of their own as they held one another, crumpled on the floor of Logan’s room. Remus buried his face into Logan’s neck, grinning wide as he laughed almost hysterically.

“I can’t believe that worked!”

“I can’t believe how that felt.”

The silence stretched on for a moment as they collected themselves until Remus broke it, pulling away from Logan slightly. “I want to do it again.” He said, reaching up to play with Logan’s hair. “Can we do it again, Lolo?”

Logan smiled the softest Remus had ever seen him smile, and he nodded. “Yes, whoever that was, it felt great. I would do it a hundred times or more.”

Remus giggled before leaning in, pressing a gentle kiss to Logan’s lips before they fused once again.

And so, Morbidity was created.

Morbidity stayed hidden for a long while, and Remus and Logan felt strange each time they unfused. They felt lonely, more so than they had before fusing. Remus had correlated it to how Ruby felt when she and Sapphire unfused and Ruby had gone on that adventure. And Logan couldn’t agree more. Being Morbidity was intoxicating, because when he formed, neither felt lonely or unloved anymore. And Morbidity felt more love than when Logan and Remus spent time together unfused.

Morbidity just felt right.

Morbidity didn’t want to unfuse anymore. Logan and Remus didn’t want to be apart, not when they were constantly torn down and ignored. So they stopped unfusing, and Morbidity stayed in his room. His own room! He had been shocked when it had formed but felt overjoyed nonetheless. Because it meant he was a part of Thomas, a true part of him! But with the new room, that meant that the others would start to notice. And they did.

Macabre, the name Morbidity found he liked most when brainstorming, was peacefully watching a documentary about some of the worst crimes ever committed to date. He was fascinated with how the killers had gotten away with it for so long, and how all the evidence from the buckets of blood that had needed cleaning up to the finest of hairs left behind all played a roll in solving the cases. He was writing a novel, a murder mystery, and wanted it to be as exciting and puzzling as possible. So research was needed.

That’s when his door was opened, no one knocking as it slammed against the wall. Macabre flinched at the sound, finally looking away from his television and notebook littered with notes and random, horrific doodles.

Standing there was Roman, stunned when he saw Macabre, dual-colored eyes staring into his green ones. “Um…”

Then Patton peered over his shoulder, confusion flashing across his face. “A new side?”

Macabre laughed, and it sounded like glass shattering. “Not a new side, Patty-cake. Merely an experiment gone extremely well!” Macabre stood, stretching and hearing his bones pop and feeling the pins and needles in his feet creeping up his legs. How long had it been since he last got up? He made a mental note to set a timer so that his limbs wouldn’t fall asleep like this again.

“…. Experiment?”

“Who are you?”

“What are you?”

Macabre frowned only slightly, fixing his glasses. “I’m Morbidity! I would say it’s great to finally introduce myself, but I believe your facial expressions aren’t the proper reactions one would want.

"And I was an experiment. Not one any longer, though! Remus and Logan sure enjoyed doing them. Maybe I should try it out too!”

“You’re behind Logan disappearing?!” Virgil’s voice raised a few octaves as he started on at the fusion. Macabre crossed his arms, now frowning completely.

“I’m not behind anything. And Logan didn’t disappear. Not completely.”

“What does that even mean?”

It seemed Roman knew the answer to Patton’s question, though, because he broke from his daze to answer. “Correct me if I’m wrong, Morbidity, but you’re a fusion.”

Macabre smiled. “Right you are, Roman! Oh, I knew you would remember. Remus didn’t think you would, but I knew you would.” He clapped his hands together, once.

“What’s he talking about Roman?” Virgil asked.

Roman only briefly looked at Virgil, offering a small, half-hearted shrug. “Remus brought up the idea one time that maybe sides could fuse. I just brushed it off, but it was definitely one of his good ideas.” He turned back to Macabre. “So… You’re a fusion of Remus and Logan?”

“Morbid Creativity and Logic sure go quite well together, don’t you think? Both always ignored, finding that they are the outcasts of their supposed families, and finding love in one another. It really shouldn’t be a surprise that they got along so well.”

“Wait wait wait, Logan fused with… With Remus?” Patton looked absolutely horrified.

“Well, they were dating for a year before they made me. But yes.”

“They were together?!”

“It really isn’t hard to believe, Patton.” Macabre glanced at his nails, painted as though they were dipped into blood. “Now, unless you three are interested in watching this documentary with me, can I get back to work?”

“We still have-”

“What are you working on?” Roman cut off Virgil, approaching Macabre. He shot Virgil and Patton a slight glare when they tried to protest. Because he could feel the anger and frustration, and even the panic radiating off the pair. “If you two even think of pushing Morbidity to talk, by the way, I’ll let Thomas know why I actually chose to go to the wedding.”

That sent the pair off, and Roman sat down with Macabre, the door closing. If this is what Remus and Logan wanted, to be together like this, then Roman would support it. He wasn’t in any place to judge though, considering just this morning he and Deceit had attempted to do the same.

It suddenly became very different around the Mind Palace, what with Macabre (or Copypasta’ as Roman and Deceit had taken to calling him after seeing Macabre’s love of creepypasta) having introduced himself to Thomas not long after the others had ventured into his room.

Thomas didn’t really mind Macabre, while he sometimes felt uncomfortable by the insane amount of violent knowledge he had, knowing about certain chemicals and their reactions to drinks was definitely helpful when attending bars. Especially when his drink shifted in color just slightly, and Thomas knew not to drink, because Macabre had remembered a case where someone had drugged their date. And Macabre got along with Deceit and Roman just fine(though the two still hadn’t come out yet).

Patton and Virgil, though? They were furious. They were absolutely livid that Logan would even agree to ever fuse with Remus. Logan deserved better than Remus, in their eyes.

They fueled one another, Virgil and Patton. They fueled the negative thoughts towards Macabre. He shouldn’t exist. He should have never existed in the first place. Logan was too good for Remus. What could Remus possibly offer that Logan would want, anyway, that Logan didn’t already have? The others had been working on showing their appreciation of Logan. Virgil and Patton had worked on not cutting him off, and Virgil had tried listening to him a bit more. Patton had stopped laughing at a few jokes Roman made about Logan.

And then there was Remus. The imbalance of negative and positive ideas was weird. Because Macabre wasn’t intrusive, not to the extent Remus had been. Now, Remus’s gruesome ideas were rationalized or internalized, suppressed in Macabre until he could jot down the idea and either write or draw the thought. Everything just felt wrong.

So they devised a plan, about three weeks after Macabre had been found by them.

Virgil had been horrified by Patton’s idea at first, listening reluctantly as Patton explained to him how to split a side. Because even if Virgil hated Macabre being together, and didn’t like Remus, he still remembered what the split had done to the twins. And he worried how that would affect Remus, going through another split. But Patton persuaded him, claiming that if all the facts that Thomas knew were tainted, were bad, then Thomas was a bad person. And Thomas couldn’t be a bad person, he just couldn’t. So Virgil agreed.

He doesn’t remember it much, though. He purposely forgot Macabre’s scream as he was quite literally torn apart. Virgil blocked the image of Macabre’s agonized face from his mind, keeping it a blurred memory that could have been a dream. He felt sick at the thought that he did it, but the idea that Logan would come back was enough to keep him from stopping.

Patton though was completely unfazed.

However, they didn’t get the outcome they had wanted.

Remus and Logan had indeed been split, that much was clear. But they weren’t Remus and Logan, not the ones that Patton and Virgil wanted.

They were pushed out of the way by Roman and Deceit, who had finally broken into the room that Virgil and Patton had sealed off. It looked so incredibly wrong, and to say Deceit and Roman were angry would be an understatement. They were bursting with rage as Logan and Remus finally stopped whimpering, the pain no longer overwhelming them. They cradled the two sides, all the while having a shouting match with Patton, Virgil making no attempt to defend his actions.

Roman held his brother tightly, though Remus only blinked at him in confusion, and once Deceit and Roman had stopped arguing with Virgil and Patton, they had turned their attention to the two sides, taking them in. The guilty pair sunk out to their own rooms, leaving Roman and Deceit with the new Logan and Remus.

Though they didn’t even know Logan and Remus were their names.

—————————–

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#intrulogical #Intrulogical fusion #romantic intrulogical #remus sanders #logan sanders #morbidity #morbidity sanders #fusion #side fusion #sanders sides #sanders sides fusion #ts fusion #ts sides #ts remus #ts logan #roman sanders #deceit sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #unsympathetic patton #unsympathetic virgil #morally gray virgil #background roceit #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic roman #sympathetic logan #sympathetic remus #ambersky ask #amberskywrites #ask

[logical-little-lies]

this is just me projecting but virgil having an argument with someone (i imagine deceit but whatever u want) and the other person getting a little too mean and vee regressing out of fear so cg/s has/have to swoop in and help the baby - 👑

Is this the same creative anon that sent me the prompt to Calm n Cuddly? If so, send a crown emoji in an ask? If not, then I have a bunch of people sending me ideas on the same day! Also this was THE PERFECT prompt to introduce the place where the dark sides live in the mindscape, because it isn’t in the normal mindplace/ imaginary apartment with the core sides. This also give me a chance to tie them into the story finally. 

Unlikely and Unwelcome Appearances-Agere!Sides AU (pt.22)

Virgil was quite angry with Deceit. In the last Sanders Sides video, all the sides were trying to help Thomas figure out how to ask a very out-of his league guy out. At first, it was Roman convincing Virgil to let them go for it, and when he gave into that, it was everyone trying to figure out how to do it. There was a debate over if a relationship would be healthy at the moment, the best way to go about it, and the benefits of dating the guy.

And when they reached the “how to go about it”, Deceit barges in and tries to convince them to let Thomas make up something interesting about himself, to gain the interest of the guy. It really wasn’t that hard to shoot him down though, Logan providing the logic of lying would entice the guy, but disappoint him later. So Deceit left, and that was that.

But when the sides got back to the mindscape, Virgil was fumbling. “I get it, it was frustrating, but it’s fine. We got him to go away,” Roman knew why Virgil was mad, but was trying to calm him down. Virgil used to live with Deceit, and Remus, and..the others..

In the mindscape, there is the Mind Palace, the apartment/house-like building they all stayed in. There’s the imagination, where anything can happen. That’s also where Memory Lane was held, and the Vineyard Village, which is basically a small universe (with magic and such) inspired by many things, that Thomas made when he was younger. It was full of characters he created, and it became larger when he started vine, and all his characters from his shorts and vines lived there too. Roman basically created the whole village, so he made a point to stop by and greet the characters.

But then, there’s the Dark Side Tower (as they called it). It was made to look like a dark version of Rapunzel’s tower, and the inside basically looks like this. When you enter the bottom floor, it’s the dark-side commons, with a tv, kitchen, and living room set up. Then there is a set of stairs to the side, and when you walk up, there’s a floor that’s Deceit’s (right above the commons), and above that, one for Remus. Of course, there’s more sides, more rooms, but at the very top, there’s another common area where all the dark sides can meet. Now that you have that picture, just imagine Virgil living there at one point. It wasn’t the best.

Virgil was definitely considering going to the Dark Side Tower, but he decided not to. He left it alone, and was just fine. Until Deceit comes into the Mind Palace to mess with everyone about a week later.

Virgil woke up a little later than everyone else, and found a note from Logan on the fridge.

‘Patton took Little Ro to the imagination to visit Remy and Emile in Vineyard Village. I’m in my room preparing some things for Thomas. - Logan’

He nodded to himself, moving to make himself something to eat. He was pulling the milk out of the fridge when he heard Deceit’s tune playing faintly. “No, no, no. Why are you here?” he growled out lowly, slamming the milk onto the counter and looking around. Abruptly, the tune stopped, and Virgil sighed, returning to pouring milk into his coffee.

“Hey there, Anx,” Virgil jumped when he heard Deceit’s voice behind him. He turned, glaring at the partially scale covered face.

“Don’t call me that, you know my name,”

“And you know mine, but you don’t use it.”

“Use my actual name, and I’ll keep my lips zipped about yours,” Virgil bargained, continuing to make his breakfast as if Deceit’s presence didn’t make his anxiety skyrocket.

“Bargaining secrets, hmm? I know so many things I could reveal to that little..boyfriend of yours.”

 "Oh shut up, will you? I’m honest with Roman, he knows me. What do you want?“

"I want you to come back to the Tower, we all miss you. Help us introduce the other unknowns to Thomas, please!” Deceit begged, but Virgil shook his head.

“It’s not happening, Dee.”

Virgil was internally panicking, he didn’t wanna go back. Never, he liked the palace, the Tower was terrifying.

“I won’t be back,” Deceit lied, disappearing. Virgil whimpered, finding himself regressing at the bad memories. He bit his lip, debating on finding Logan to babysit him, but before he could stop himself, the Logical Trait entered the kitchen.

“I’m not delusional..I heard Deceit’s Tune..right?”

Virgil nodded, his eyes tearing over. “I’m sorry he was messing with you, I’m sure I can find a way to keep them out of the Mind Palace, alright?” he reassured.

“Mhm,” Virgil nodded, his voice becoming more childish and quiet. Logan’s face softened when he realized what was happening. He waved his hand, and Mickey Mouse started playing in the living room.

“Hey bat, how about you go watch some cartoons while I finish up your breakfast here?” he spoke in his 'caregiver voice’ and Virgil gave in. Virgil sat on the couch, watching the screen while Logan dumped out his coffee and made some mint tea instead, filling the boys sippy cup.

Then a question hit Logan’s mind.

Did Deceit know about Virgil’s regression?

A/N: I uh…kinda got carried away with the world building there. And also, yes, Remy and Emile are there, just as figments from the village where Thomas’s characters are held. And also, y’all better get used to the Dark Side Tower bc if yall want Dee and Ree, then it’ll be a reoccurring setting.

#lilvirgil #little virgil #cglogan #littleroman #lilroman #sandersidesagere

[theeternalspace]

In Memoriam 12

Summary: The metal tree had always fascinated the Prince.

Only, it wasn’t a tree.

And, as it turned out, he wasn’t really a Prince. Instead he was… a side of someone’s personality? He doesn’t remember Thomas, or the other sides, those who call themselves his friends. He doesn’t really remember anything, not even his own name, no matter the efforts of Patton, Logan or Virgil. He must venture back into the Wardrobe door, back to the metal tree in an attempt to recover his missing memories and regain everything he has lost.

But perhaps some doors are best left closed for a reason. And perhaps some personas should remain in the ground where they have been buried.

Story Warnings: Sympathetic/Grey Deceit Sanders. He is trying his best you guys. Anxiety. Self doubt and self loathing. Fantasy fighting. Verbal fighting. Threatening behaviour. Blood and injury. Memory loss. Drowning. Near death.

Previous || Next

For a pregnant, tense pause, there was silence. 

Deceit seemed to have barely noticed his arrival, still lounging in the throne without a care in the world. It had been a long time since Virgil had last seen him without his hat and although the crown was truly a magnificent substitute, it still showed his head and Deceit had always been remarkably sensitive about his hair, saying it wasn’t right for a side like him. That it was too soft and fluffy, and as a result implied that he was soft in turn when really, Deceit was a lean, mean, fighting machine that needed his reputation to be as tough as he really was. 

Virgil didn’t understand that logic. He liked to pretend to be strong of course, he needed to be strong and scary. The only way he could ever make anyone listen to him when they were younger was by being the scariest thing in the room and of course being soft didn’t really work with that. But there was a time and a place for such things. Virgil had always seen being a scary Anxiety as a job. A very important job that was dear to his heart and he would quite literally work himself to exhaustion in order to protect Thomas, but a job all the same. One that was separate from who he was when he didn’t need to be on guard. Sometimes it was safe to leave Thomas in the hands of Logic or Morality and he got to be a softer Anxiety as a result, where nobody could see. 

So yes, he was scary most of the time, just the way he liked it. 

He also really liked it when someone he trusted played with his hair, it calmed a lot of his anxieties, it soothed his nerves in a way that was almost indescribable. Nobody was going to touch his hair unless he trusted them so nobody would know it was soft. Easy. It was rare that he actually got that level of relaxation of course, first it was only Deceit who could touch his hair. And then, a lot later - a lot, lot later and Virgil didn’t want to think of all the years between one family and the other, when he was so very cold and alone all of the time - there was Patton. There was maybe the others too, but he had yet to work up the courage to ask either Logan or Roman to calm him like that. 

Not that there was any way to know if Deceit had even been serious about his complaints, only the end result in that he almost always had a hat on his head. That he really cared about the illusion of control and strength over actually enjoying any pleasant moments. The hat itself had gone through various iterations before he had found the perfect hat and it was so strange to see him like this now. 

The crown reminded Virgil of the last time he had seen Deceit without his hat. It was the angriest he had ever seen Deceit and that was saying something. 

They had been so young, and in Virgil’s case so innocent. Deceit had always known better though, he had always had the full measure of the darkest elements of Thomas’ mind. It was like he was so fond of saying; it takes a liar, to know a liar. He had known that they lied when they lured a young Anxiety away to an abandoned corner of Thomas’ mind with the promise of fun. Virgil might be paranoid to a fault but on that day he had let his optimistic hope and pathetic desires for friendship override the paranoia that they were planning a nasty trick and he had followed the Dark Sides whenever they wanted. 

It had obviously been nothing but a nasty trick and they had wanted to see just how far they could push Anxiety in order to discover what effect that would have on Thomas. For science, they had gleefully told him before locking him in the dark. Alone, lost and oh so very scared. Anxiety had tried his best to be brave, had cling to all the negative feelings and attempted to shield them from his young host. He didn’t want to hurt Thomas when there was no need to make him panic. This was Anxiety’s problem, his fears and his fears alone. He had to hold them to himself, he had to make sure that none of his own terror leaked out and affected Thomas. That was exactly what they wanted, which was another reason to not do it - as though Anxiety needed a better reason than his desire to protect Thomas. 

It was hard to be brave of course, when he was all alone, in the dark and the cold. It was hard to be brave when they started whispering mocking truths to him. Always from a distance, always so that he couldn’t quite place where they were coming from, the cruel comments leaving him as confused and as disoriented as before.  

Anxiety wasn’t very good at thinking up positives but he had tried to hold onto anything good in the dark. He tried to hold onto the thought he was protecting Thomas, that he was helping him by making sure he didn’t feel this. If nothing else, it taught him exactly what body language to look out for when years down the line, some popular kids tried the same trick on Thomas. 

Not that it had been much comfort at the time.

Those memories of misery were disjointed, great patches of dark broken up by moments of terror and Virgil had no idea how long he had been locked in there. No matter how tired he became, they didn’t let him sleep, flooding the area with noise whenever it seemed likely that he might pass out. The only time he saw light was during those moments when they would flood the area with a strobe light in the hope of causing him greater discomfort and terror, the world reduced to an inescapable flashing nightmare. 

It was enough to let him know he was in a large empty room, devoid of doors. Only they could make the door reappear, only they could let him out. He couldn’t run away from this. It had felt like an eternity with no end in sight. They laughed at his tears, at his pleas to please stop this, to let him go, that he was sorry for whatever it was that he had done. Anxiety would have done almost anything to get out of that room, begging until his throat was sore, voice reduced to little more than a raspy whisper. 

Only when he had exhausted himself past the point of no return did the taunts change to a one sided conversation. It was so easy to get out of here they promised. So simple. All he had to do was do what he was created to do. He was a trait, a figment, a side of Thomas. He embodied part of his hosts personality and all they wanted was to see just what Anxiety could really do when he set his mind to it. 

They would let him out only when he flooded Thomas with as much adrenaline as he could and not before. They needed to see what would happen if Anxiety triggered a panic attack of monumental scale. All he had to do was let Thomas feel what he was feeling right now. After all, they purred, he had said he would do anything if they agreed to let him out and him doing his job was such a little thing to ask.  

Almost anything. Deliberately hurting Thomas for no reason other than spite or just to see what would happen was beyond the pale, and always had been. 

He had pulled his hood up and over his head in lieu of answering and tried to endure. 

The memories became increasingly patchy after that moment of defiance. Virgil couldn’t help but feel a little grateful that he was missing patches of that horror. He remembered enough. That was different from nothing, from being completely devoid of all memories and unsure of a place because of it. 

It was a conscious choice on Virgil’s part, not to go digging in his mind for those missing moments because everything that came before or after them proved that it would just be more pain, more terror, more scared, alone, cold, so cold and wet near the end when they had filled the room with ice cold water, all the way to the ceiling. Virgil wished he couldn’t remember the way his nails had clawed uselessly against the walls, the way he struggled and fought against the rising water, all to no avail. In mere moments the whole room was completely flooded, water appearing from nowhere and there was nowhere for it to go. 

He thought he was going to drown. Even then, Virgil refused to give in, to let them have what they wanted. Spite motivated him to hold it all in, even if it killed him. He had woken up coughing and spluttering for breath, soaking wet but otherwise unharmed. His oversized hoodie seemed to take forever to dry from that, the fabric sticking to every inch of him, his favorite item of clothing becoming a skintight cage, tainting all the positive memories it held. It was a long time before Anxiety was able to feel comfortable wearing it again and by that time his views on Deceit had changed drastically. 

The wet hoodie chilled him down to the bone, literally and mentally. He was going to die here, Anxiety had known it. At least, he hoped he would die here, because if he died that would mean he hadn’t given in to what they wanted and Thomas was still safe. He didn’t remember the other taunts that flew fast and furious over him, or much of the way the temperature would shift so rapidly, only flashes of moments when he was baking hot and then inescapably cold. 

What he did remember however, as clear and as crisp as day was the moment it had ended. 

A whole wall had suddenly crumbled into dust, bright light streaming in and filling the whole space. Instinctively, Virgil had thrown his arm up and over his eyes, expecting it to start flashing, eyes already watering from the intensity after so long left in the dark. This was another one of the Dark Sides tricks surely - only it wasn’t.

The light dimmed after a few seconds, dropping to a more manageable level. It still hurt, but it was enough to make Virgil slowly lower his arm, blinking the water in his eyes away rapidly. He wasn’t going to cry, he wasn’t going to give into them. They would only laugh at his tears, find it hilarious that pathetic little Anxiety was so bad at his job that he would rather cry than do it. 

There was someone on the other side of the light, walking closer to him, and Anxiety found himself tensing, waiting for the blow that was surely coming. Nobody came into his cell, that was part of their punishment, that was part of what they did. If he wanted contact, if he wanted someone to try and breathe in time to - well, all that anxiety was inside of him for a reason. What did they want? What were they going to do now? What new and terrifying punishment had they come up with? 

The figure had solidified into Deceit and Anxiety had never been happier to see that yellow eye.

He had come to save Anxiety, had physically fought them and more than that had won. He swept into that room slash cage like some avenging angel - or maybe some demon, because the anger on his face had been breathtaking to say the least and Anxiety could well believe that those that stood in his way had exploded into fire and brimstone at his expression. The heat he could almost feel from it was welcome, Anxiety unable to help but lean towards him as though he could get warm from that anger alone. A rage which had somehow grown when he had taken a proper look at the scared and scrawny Anxiety. 

Deceit had gathered him up in his arms as though he had weighed nothing and carried him out of there, mumbling soothing words the whole time. He took him home, he helped him. None of the main sides ever knew where Anxiety had been or what had happened to him, something that suited Anxiety just fine. Even if Creativity had made some rather cruel jokes at his expense, accusing him of not caring about his role, about their host. 

Those comments had been nothing compared to the Dark Side's words. Creativity had said what he had out of malice sure, but it had also been because he had cared enough about Thomas to worry. He would never want Anxiety to hurt Thomas. There was no way he would ever tell them the truth. They didn’t need that on their minds, burdening their happy days with thoughts of just how dark Thomas’ mind could become. They were just lucky that Thomas never took much notice of the darker impulses, that their strength faded as the years passed. Virgil - as Anxiety became - never stopped keeping guard though. He had let them get the jump on him once before, he wouldn’t let them do that to the others. No matter what they might say or how they might act, Anxiety wasn’t letting them get anywhere near Thomas or the rest. And still Deceit looked after him. 

Anxiety had thought he was the coolest side there was in the whole mind.  

Deceit had been a good brother then. When had it all gone wrong? When had Virgil first started to really notice the lies and realise so many of them were directed at him? When had he first realised that Deceit would turn on him if the situation called for it, that he would never be as important to Deceit as the other side was to him? When did he first catch him out in a needless lie? The seeds had been sown so long ago that Virgil couldn’t even remember it, only the bitter harvest they had been left with. 

It was hard to trust anything Deceit said after that, it was hard to believe that he even liked him, let alone loved him like he claimed. 

When had he first looked at Deceit and begun to find him wanting? When had he slipped him into the group of Dark Sides, the ones he could never relax around, could never trust ever again?

“Deceit,” Virgil repeated, shaking his head a little and snapping his thoughts back to the present. It was pointless to think about what had once been, it was just added torture on top of everything else. He didn’t need or want to wonder about the side that had saved him and how much of his brother was left in the snake that apparently stole memories for fun. 

Slowly, Deceit tilted his head to the side, staring at Virgil with his one snake eye, the gaze as chilling as ever. It never failed to make him want to fidget uncomfortably, always so very much aware that he was being judged in turn. Strange, how after all this time and everything that lay between them, the past a naked sword, some part of Virgil still wanted to be accepted by Deceit. A tiny part of him wanted to just step forward and punch him. Then hug him. Maybe punch him again afterwards. 

It was complicated.

Virgil just wanted his brother back, the one that had saved him, the one who told him he loved him, that he would always look out for him, protect him. He wanted to hear those sentiments coming from Deceit’s mouth and pretend that everything was like when they were kids, when things were simpler. 

If only he could be sure that what he was hearing was the truth. 

“Ah, Virgil. Come to thank me for your gift?” Deceit asked at last, still making no effort to move from his admittedly very comfortable looking throne despite the material it was made from. Virgil couldn’t help but wonder what it was like to have a throne. Roman probably had one, he could always ask him, he would get an honest answer at least. Or, rather, he would, if Roman had his memories and knew what he was talking about. 

“My gift?” Virgil repeated the words back to Deceit as though he could somehow change their meaning and what was thoughts of thrones compared to the idea that all of this had been his fault? For a moment panic swept over him, stronger even than his rage. Surely this wasn't his fault? He had never asked for anything like this, he had never wanted something like this to happen. 

Deceit gave an over the top sigh, as though disappointed in Virgil and finally moved. He swung his legs from over the armrest to stand at last. The movement was as slow and as over the top as the sigh had been, each motion deliberately exaggerated and drawn out. Deceit wanted Virgil to know just how annoying he was finding this whole conversation, how pointless it was from his perspective. Deceit had always been so very good at making him feel small, barely there at all and he knew that that was what he was trying to do now. 

This time it didn’t work. It made Virgil’s blood boil instead. There was no worry of the cold getting to him now, not when he could cling to the fire of his rage. He refused to back down or look away, to give away any of the visual clues that would show he was affected. Virgil wasn’t the same little scared Anxiety that Deceit had looked after. Now, he was a grown up pissed off Virgil and it was his turn to be protecting someone from a bully.

Deceit seemed to notice that too, his movements shifting into something more energetic, dropping the lazy pretence. 

Now his stride was purposeful, that of some cat predator stalking towards his prey and no matter how angry Virgil felt, he couldn’t help but acknowledge that he should feel nervous at that movement, so reminiscent of times when Deceit had jumped in to protect him, when he had been something worthy of being scared of. It took practise, to know how to be that kind of scary, the thing the bad guys were afraid of but it was a role that Deceit had seemed born to play. 

He moved down from the throne, towards Virgil, hips swaying, a confident smirk curled on his lips as though he knew something Virgil didn’t. Or if he was still the same big brother that had all the answers while baby brother Anxiety knew nothing. There was a dangerous feel to the air around them now, something charged and almost electric. Gone was the forced casualness of before, the artificial laziness. Virgil had never been on the receiving end of that look and walk before, despite all their clashes in the recent past. It was far scarier than he wanted to admit - but then Deceit would know that. Deceit always knew when any of them were lying, even an internal whisper to themselves. 

The other side came even closer, close enough to touch. Virgil hated it when people touched him without his permission, the dramatic opposite to his feelings of people playing with his hair when he knew and expected it. Deceit knew just how much he hated it - so really, Virgil wasn’t surprised when Deceit lifted a gloved hand, letting it drift near his face. 

It brushed against Virgil’s cheek in what he was sure was supposed to be a reassuring and tender pat to the face. It felt like anything but. He didn’t pull away though, his legs stuck in place as if he was slowly turning into one of the stone statues that littered the room. All he could do was stand there and focus on his breathing, to keep it steady as Deceit kept touching. It was degrading, it was humiliating and more than all that, it was deliberate. 

False displays of kindness were Deceit’s stock in trade and Virgil had been on the receiving end of too many of them to ever trust the softness to be genuine. Even if, sometimes... sometimes they had been real. Sometimes Deceit had given him love and care without expecting anything in return. Sometimes when they had been children, Deceit would have gathered Virgil up in his arms and promise him a world of safety and love, and Virgil would have believed it too. 

No longer though. He couldn’t afford to any longer. 

Virgil refused to give in to the worry that was slowly seeping through his mind like poison, to back down like his mind was starting to tell him to do so. Some part of him felt like a rat cornered on all sides and the snake was rearing back, ready to strike. He was still angry. Virgil had to remind himself that he was still angry, had to push everything aside in order to focus on the only thing that actually mattered here. Not his own feelings, not their shared past. Not even the deeply buried hope that a relationship long withered could somehow burst back into bloom. No, the only thing Virgil was going to allow himself to focus on, was Roman.

“What gift?” he repeated. Words were spoken through gritted teeth, Virgil staring definitely at Deceit and refusing to acknowledge the hand. Even that had its own dangers, because it meant looking deep into eyes that had the power to pin him even more securely in place, eyes that could captivate and enthral in equal measures. Virgil had lost count of the times Deceit had used his gaze to help calm him after a bad panic attack. 

“Roman of course. I thought you would appreciate a reset on him. How is the new and improved Roman doing? I trust you have got him all trained by now?”

“... A reset? New and improved?” Virgil couldn’t believe what he was hearing. As if this was a good thing, as if Roman was somehow better by being lost and not himself anymore. And then, by implication, that it was Virgil’s fault that things weren’t back to normal now, that Virgil hadn’t done better by moulding him into his own version of who he should be. 

That was a terrible, terrible idea. Virgil knew now that he worked well with Creativity if both of them were equally, he knew he helped and he also knew that he was more creative than he had first realised. It was just that Virgil’s own personal brand of creative thoughts were not exactly... positive ones. He could think up more monsters under the bed than Roman could think up heroes to slay them. Working together, they could create epic worlds with monsters and heroes in equal measure, adventures for Roman to go on or Thomas to explore in dreams and word. 

That didn’t mean he should be in control of it though because if Virgil was in charge of Creativity then Thomas wouldn’t get anything done because any idea would only come with all the flaws and possible dangers. Without Roman at the helm, the worlds would die, just like this one was, collapsing under the weight of its own worries and doubts. Their temperaments were suited to the aspects of Thomas that they represented and trouble only arose when they were either too powerful or too lacking in their own departments. When one would try and shout over the other and assume they knew best, that Thomas should only listen to them and they attempted to usurp the others roles. 

Virgil knew all that. He couldn’t look away though, staring into those odd eyes that were filling his world, and the gaze coupled with the words... well he couldn’t help the doubts that started to seep into his mind like traitorous little whispers niggling away at his anger. Reality was always such a fluid thing for Virgil to start with. He was wrong so often, his fears overcoming everything else and it was laughably easy to make him doubt himself, to question if he was right to be angry, right to think anything he was thinking.

Logan said that knowledge was power but Virgil couldn’t see any of that here. He knew his own weakness, his own flaws so well and yet it didn’t stop him wondering if he had been in the wrong to not try and shape Roman into who he had once been. Not into a Creativity that was Anxiety inspired - Virgil would never do that to him - but he knew Roman so well. It wouldn’t have been hard to tell him proper details about himself, to show him carefully cut moments so that he was a prince again, so that he could fool people into being a mask of himself. It wouldn’t have been the same as actually regaining his memories but it would have created a Roman similar to who he used to be.

Virgil had wanted Roman to learn who he was for himself but maybe that had been a mistake. 

Then again, maybe not.

God, he didn’t know. He didn’t know anything and it hurt, the doubts weighing him down and making him want to forget his anger. Virgil couldn’t afford to let that heat slip away completely, he needed it to keep himself going but Deceit was turning everything around, was using that gaze against him and he wondered if maybe this was yet another time when he had been completely wrong. On every single level it was possible to be wrong. 

Deceit smiled, something triumphant in the expression, as though he had already won. 

“I made him better didn’t I? Just like you always wanted, the sort of Creativity he should have been if it wasn’t for that delightful original personality of his. All it took was a little nudge and the chance to start fresh without any of the other irritating elements getting in the way.”

He was... he was talking about Patton. Logan. Roman himself. Virgil knew that there were parts of the light sides that annoyed him at times, things he wished were different. Patton and Roman in particular were all so... bright, all the time. It hurt his eyes and his mind sometimes to have to deal with their endless positivism as if nothing terrible existed in the world. Beyond creepy crawly death dealers who weren’t even that bad. Just as Logan had once said, they could be unbearable when they were at their most... them. But that was who they were. If they could put up with the endless storm cloud that was Virgil even on his worst days then it was only fair that Virgil handle their enthusiasm and sunshine. It was what made Thomas... Thomas. Virgil wouldn’t change that. 

Virgil could accept the idea that he needed improvement. He could accept the idea that he was wrong since he was so often very wrong whenever he tried to protect Thomas from the terrors of the world both real and imaginary. 

But he couldn’t accept that any of the others were wrong to the extent that they should lose everything and be remade. They were as close to perfect as it was possible to be, with only the mildest of flaws. If anything, it just showed how wrong Virgil really was for not being able to handle them all the time. They were good and pure and Deceit was acting as though there was something wrong with them. 

Knowledge was power.

Virgil stumbled backwards, ripping himself out of the hold, the thought like a shot of espresso rushing through his blood stream, and Roman had been perfect just the way he was. Those memories were an important part of him, not something that could be discarded on a whim as though they didn’t matter, and in turn, as though who Roman was didn’t matter. 

“We’re talking about Roman, not some... some... some Furby you can just take the batteries out to try and stop the possessed toy! He isn’t something you turn off and on again to ‘fix’,” Virgil ranted, lifting his hands to make air quotes over the word fix as he spoke, and how could Deceit be that detached from what he had done? 

Deceit gave a snort, looking completely unimpressed by anything Virgil was saying. It almost felt as though they were talking at cross purposes, each discussing a different topic than the other and neither seemed willing to make any effort to even get closer to the actual issue at hand. Virgil knew he was the one talking about the right thing, the most important thing and yet Deceit still acted as though he was the one in the right. His mistake had been attacking the others though and their goodness was a truth that Virgil could never doubt. 

“Oh please, since when have you ever cared about Roman? I seem to recall you spending hours ranting about Creativity and how annoying he was. You should be thanking me, he isn’t an over the top dramatic prince anymore! No more insulting you either, I certainly didn’t expect you to think it was as though all your Christmas’ had come at once.” 

Now that Deceit said that, Virgil realised that he had never once thought of the memory loss that way. He had been pleased that Roman didn’t hate him anymore, pleased that he didn’t remember all the mean things Virgil had done to him. He had been scared as well, so terrified that history would repeat itself and he would lose his friend all over again. That agony had been the strongest emotion he had felt. 

But he had never once been that happy, he had never wanted it to become something permanent. He had known that sooner or later Roman would recover his memories. At least, he had assumed he would, had travelled to the Imagination in order to help him because Virgil hadn’t been able to picture a world in which his dramatic friend was not himself. Even if that meant they weren’t as close as Virgil would have liked them to be. It had been wonderful to be trusted by Roman once more, to have the other side consider them real close friends. 

It seemed as though that friendship they had made was destined to be as fragile and as fleeting as the first snowdrops of the spring, trying to reach for the sun too early. 

Because Roman was surely going to hate him when he found out this was all supposed to be a present for Virgil, that he had been attacked and his mind violated because Deceit had apparently thought it would be something that the anxious side would want. If that was the truth of course, and things were never that simple when it came to Deceit. Never that clear cut, one reason, one answer that made sense. 

Still, Roman was going to hate him and Virgil couldn’t blame him in the slightest. If he had done even the smallest thing to imply that he might wish this to be reality, then it was his fault too. Roman was going to hate him once he remembered who he was and learnt the truth.

That was going to suck, so badly. 

It would hurt, would rip him apart and Virgil didn’t know if he was strong enough to survive it. The thought of being without their friendship again - because surely Patton and Logan would turn their backs on him too when Roman told them the truth - made Virgil want to curl up into a tight little ball and sob his heart out. He didn’t want to lose what he had, he didn’t want to be alone again... but Virgil still needed to help, needed to somehow undo his own mistake and Deceit’s folly. Maybe the Anxiety that Deceit had known would have been delighted but he had grown and changed a lot since then - mostly for the better but Virgil was enough of a realist to know that he still made so many mistakes, he still slipped and went backwards, became worse. 

He was trying and on the good days - even on the neutral days - Virgil could see how far he had come, he was able to look behind him and see the long path he had already travelled on, feel pride in his accomplishments. The bad days only made him more aware of how far he really had to go still before he could consider himself even close to them. 

As children, Anxiety had always tried to stay near to the others whenever he could, claiming that it was just to protect Thomas but that had been a lie. He had been like the outcast kid peering into the charmed circle he knew he would never be apart of and longing for the impossible all the same. Anxiety had never really been able to imagine what it would be like to actually be accepted, to not have to fight to be heard every second of the day. He had never really understood what it would be like to be part of that family. 

That Anxiety had been lucky in a way. He had been able to survive through ignorance because even in his wildest dreams, he had never come close to imagining the warmth and love that flowed from the other three on a daily basis. 

That Anxiety had never been given the chance to get to know Roman. He had never become his friend - but then that version of Anxiety that Deceit knew that Deceit was still protecting had changed beyond all measure. He had grown into the Virgil he was now and while Virgil couldn’t ignore who he had once been, he also couldn’t pretend that he wanted to go back to how it had been before. He wouldn’t sacrifice Roman for his own comfort. He would never. 

Now Virgil was going to choose to stumble back into the snow without any protective layers. Better to freeze of his own choice. Better to die a hero. Better to grow cold for the right reasons. Later, Virgil would have to cling to those thoughts, to reminding himself over and over that he chose to do this. That he wanted this no matter the consequences. Just as soon as he somehow managed to fix it and damn himself all at the same time. 

He just needed to somehow convince Deceit to reverse whatever it was that he had actually done. Deceit who had never admitted he was in the wrong in all the time Virgil had known him. Deceit who rarely backed down from a challenge. Deceit who was still acting as if this was a good thing and Virgil was the weird one for being angry. 

Great. Just perfect.

#sanders sides #in memoriam #aca writes #long post

[imnotcameraready]

chivalry is dead (17)

A/N: WELCOME TO SHIP Y’ALL !!!!

WARNINGS: disassociation/descriptions of zoning out — i think that's it, but! as always, let me know!

Words: 4203

AO3 link!

MASTERPOST! <– look here!! for the longterm warnings!! including sympathetic Deceit and cursing/swearing! i dont think i’m gonna be adding remus to the masterpost tags though because like. in full honesty? hes not actually a character. he’ll just be alluded to from time to time :^)

chivalry taglist: @starlightvirgil​​​ @forrestwyrm​​​ @daflangstlairde​​​ @marshmallow-the-panda​​​ @askthesnake​​​ @k9cat​​​ @patromlogil​​​ @theobsessor1​​​ @ninja-wizard101​​ @fandomsofrandom

general tag: @jemthebookworm​​​

enjoy !!! ilu !

“So it’s clearly a trap.”

They were all sitting in the other room, the Thief’s head resting on the Bard’s leg as he laid across the couch, Patton lounging in the Artist’s lap on the ground, Deceit on the coffee table. Logan was the only one sitting in a chair, reading over the invitation with his legs crossed on the seat.

It was finally time to broach the topic of a rescue mission and everyone was fairly apprehensive. Patton was starring at the ceiling, glasses sitting on the Artist’s head, who in turn was gently running his hand through Patton’s hair.

Deceit was flipping a coin around in his hand absentmindedly, watching Patton. He had been quieter as of late. If Logan had a headache, he hazarded a guess that Patton was similarly affected, even if he wasn’t disclosing those afflictions. 

“Definitely. Dragon knows we, uh, well,” the Thief’s eyes flicked over to the Artist, who shook his head. 

“We can’t let the Child get hurt,” the Bard said, “He was….well, not to be rude, the kiddo’s an idiot, but he’s the Prince’s favorite.”

There was a pause as Logan crunched the numbers. Child, Damsel, Dragon, Artist, Thief, Bard, Playwright — they were originally told that there were only seven Romans, right? 

It didn’t add up. He wasn’t going to voice THAT pun in front of Patton, though.

“The Prince? Is there another Roman? Or are you talking about the previous rendering of Roman as Prince Roman,” Logan handed the invitation to Deceit, who nodded and looked it over again. 

“I think he’s another figment, right?” the Bard looked down at the Thief with a raised eyebrow, “He was there on the first day?”

The Thief nodded. “He brought Child to me. Said he couldn’t take care of him, then he disappeared. Probably died, if we’re being honest.”

“Sounds like him. Flaking on responsibilities,” the Artist rolled his eyes.

Patton shifted, turning over so he could look at the Artist’s face. His hand reached up and patted his cheek.

Roman was so pretty. A pretty pretty prince. 

Wasn’t that the whole point, that he wasn’t a prince? Wait, why he wearing Patton’s glasses? Ah, goodness. He needed a Pat-nap, he couldn’t believe he forgot the Artist. 

He didn’t notice the Artist’s slight blush as he ran his hand through Patton’s hair again. “You’re okay, Patt,” he mumbled. 

Deceit raised an eyebrow at them, then looked back at Logan.

“I….don’t think that the Roman we are most familiar with would be so careless, though he has been heedless in the past,” Logan said, “We can hold discussions about the Prince for a different time, though. As for a plan, do any of you know what the castles interior looks like?”

“Why should we? We can figure it out once we’re there!” the Bard said. 

“No, we cannot,” Deceit shook his head in agreement with Logan. “If we are to create an infallible plan, we cannot be lackadaisical.”

The Bard laughed, wagging his finger at Logan. “I can assure you that I lack no daisies, thank you very much.” 

He snapped his fingers and a flower crown appeared on his head. The Thief made a face and Deceit sighed, both already exasperated. Logan, however, ignored his shenanigans and leaned forward to explain.

“Lackadaisical. We cannot be too,” he thought for a suitable synonym, “Laid back.”

The Bard blinked, then grinned in understanding. “Okay, Captain Cogitation, whatever you say.”

“I agree with Logan,” Deceit nodded to Logan, “If we want to pull this off, we’ve got to know everything.”

“Isn’t that your specialty, mister pants on fire,” the Artist asked, still running his hand through Patton’s hair. “You always seem to know more about everything than anyone else.”

Deceit turned to him, eyes quickly flicking to Patton before he raised an eyebrow at the Artist. The Artist stiffened. 

Slowly, he retracted his hand from Patton’s hair. It didn’t feel very welcome anymore.

“Sneaking and knowing are two of my talents, yes, but this is your world. I’ve never been inside that castle. I have to admit ignorance,” Deceit tilted his head to the side, toward the window, ignoring the Artist’s hurt expression, “You’ve been inside though, right?”

“The Prince has,” the Thief corrected, “I’ve been in and out in a few places. Know where Dragon’s hoard room is. I don’t think any of us actually know how to navigate it.”

The Bard not nodded in agreement, lips pursed in disappointment. Truth be told, he really wanted to see the inside of the castle. Interesting to note, in Logan’s mind, that they didn’t share the Prince’s source of knowledge.

“Surely if Roman has been inside the castle, then all of you would qualify as having been inside?”

“Well, yeah. But as the Prince. We,” the Thief pointed around at himself, then the Bard, then the Artist, “Don’t all have his memories in that detail.”

So the Prince had a different connection to Roman, the concept. That was Logan’s understanding. 

Then again, did Logan understand ANY of what was going on in here?

Now, now, don’t be too hasty. He rubbed his forehead, trying to ignore the increased throbbing in the back of his skull. Maybe the optimal strategy would have been to assume that anything goes in the Imagination, but you couldn’t fault him for trying to apply logic to the nonsensical. Perhaps there was some logic to it, with a rationale he didn’t anticipate.

All of the Romans bore some similarities and abilities to the original Prince Roman, but because the Prince was missing in action, dissolved, what have you, then those characteristics were divided amongst the remaining seven Romans. 

He had to understand the range of abilities. “Deceit, can you take notes?” Logan asked, and Deceit wordlessly conjured his notepad as Logan turned back to the Thief. “So, if you do not have exact likenesses to Roman, then what do you all have in common? We must understand the skillset we are working with.”

The three Roman parts all shared a look — apprehension, perhaps? — and the Thief broke off first. “A few of Roman’s strongest feelings and convictions, and some of his mannerisms,” he said, looking back at Logan, “That’s all that carries over to all seven.”

“And who decided that?”

“Who decided what we would take from Roman?” the Thief rubbed the back of his head and looked at the Artist, who shrugged, then the Bard, who….also shrugged. He sighed and continued speaking, though he didn’t exactly want to be the sole voice. “Well, us, I think? Or him. It kinda just happened when we were one.”

“The him that doesn’t exist?” Deceit raised an eyebrow at the Thief, who rolled his eyes and looked pointedly away. 

Yeah, he was done speaking. 

The tensions were heating up again. Patton sighed, scooting closer to the Artist’s chest and snuggling his head into his hoodie. It was soft. And it smelt like Roman.

Smelt like home. Patton closed his eyes. Had it really only been one day? He missed the common room so much, missed sitting on the couch and gluing photos and stickers into the scrap book he was working on. Missed listening to Roman rehearse lines and the flipping of Logan’s pages and the faint music wafting from Virgil’s headphones.

He was excited to see what Deceit’s routine would be when they got back. Maybe he’d want to join breakfasts?

Focus, Patton. He rubbed his face with the butt of his palm. Focusing was difficult, like trying to stand steady on a boat. Earlier, he’d been easy sailing, but right now it felt like they’d hit the currents.

“This is all confusing,” Patton mumbled.

He had to pull himself together! 

The Artist hummed sympathetically, hand reaching up and patting his hair, stopping short of running through. He tutted, then shook his head. “Look, usually there isn’t a rhyme or reason to what we do, we just…” he gestured vaguely into the air, “Do!”

There was a beat of silence as Logan, Deceit, and the Thief all squinted at him, for slightly differing reasons.

The Bard, however, just leaned in and said “A-scoodly-boo! Oop, maybe there is a rhyme?”

Logan and Deceit were surprised, watching the Bard. The Bard missed it, however, and winked at the Thief. Who smiled a tiny bit back. Even the Artist was smiling, clearly pleased.

Were they….was Roman that unaware?

No matter. Logan cleared his throat and the Thief opened an eye. “Can you please elaborate on the differences between each of you, then. There is a clear thematic or, rather, trope distinction between you all, but what are the Roman-esque traits that each of you individually have?”

That was a pretty clear place to start, Logan thought. He, Patton, and Deceit had been forming their own opinions and had their own hypothesis, but it’d be worthwhile to confirm their theories before jumping to conclusions. 

The Thief shifted, pushing himself up and out of the Bard’s lap. He sat upright and pulled his legs up to sit criss-cross. “In terms of what abilities we have, it’s been determined mostly by what we value. I….can fight. I can think calmly for the most part. I’m a lot of what Roman is when he’s alone,” the Thief waved his hand, then drummed his fingers against his thumb in thought, “I guess that’s why I’m so, uh….not-Roman?”

“Same with me,” the Artist said, raising his hand and tapping Patton’s back, signalling to him to sit up himself, “Bard and I, we create. Playwright, too. But because we all have different work ethics, different ideas on what should and-uh, on what to create, because of that we’re split. And our attitudes.”

Logan nodded. “Understandable.” 

Patton sat up and leaned against Logan’s knee. So they were talking about the different Romans. Alright. He was caught up, yeah! They were all different, different in their own ways, but they also clearly came together to be….Roman.

What ever they discussed here, because in truth he knew very little about what they were talking about, he knew they’d have to talk to the Damsel and the Dragon. Were they considering that? 

Deceit shut his notebook and looked up, remembrance written across his face. “That reminds me. Regarding your ability to create,” he pointed his pen at the Artist, “Are you aware of how….dense your creations have gotten?”

They were absolutely not considering that, apparently. Patton winced, turning toward the Artist. The tension returned as his expression flatted, becoming more guarded. The concept of creation seemed to be a touchy subject indeed, if the incident with the palette knife and threats were anything to go off of.

Behind him, Patton was gesturing to Deceit to cut out whatever line of questioning he was entering, waving his hands frantically. He had an icky feeling. The kind that was usually accompanied with nervousness, when he and Virgil would both be worried about something or another, but Virgil wasn’t here right now and this was more of the ball dropping into his stomach than the hair standing on the back of his neck.

It was awkward. That’s what it was, that’s the word. An incredibly awkward situation. Did Deceit know how the Artist was sensitive about his art? Oh, golly, they should have told him.

On the other side, Logan was simply watching Deceit with a raised eyebrow. Surely Deceit could have deduced that the Roman figment named ‘The Artist’ would be, well, unreceptive to critiques?

“Dense?” the Artist asked.

The Bard winced, and the Thief whistled lowly. “Don’t tread on me,” he murmured, looking up at Deceit. 

Deceit looked at him for only the briefest second, lip quirking up into a sly smile. 

He knew what he was doing. Logan had realized earlier and they had to make sure at least SOME of the Romans understood the toll that the Imagination was taking. 

“Dense, yes. Layered. Very well crafted,” his eyes trailed back up to the Artist, whose hand slowly unclenched from his pants fabric.

Ah. Yes, well. He preened a little, straightening his shoulders.

Ah, but this was Deceit. Who knew how honest he was being? The Artist froze, and then leaned down  over on one of his hands, gesturing for him to continue. He should see it out.

Deceit inhaled slowly. Logan glanced at him again, noting how he tensed so much. He couldn’t have been the only one physically affected by their circumstances. 

He reached a hand out and rested it on Deceit’s clenched fist, giving him a soft squeeze. 

Deceit’s eyes flew open. For a second, it seemed like he was going to combust, eyes flicking between Logan’s hand and face. 

Then, he exhaled, features relaxing. It was okay. It was okay!

No tricks. 

“Have you considered,” Deceit turned back to the Artist, who was still watching expectantly, “That the Imagination is too intricate for us?”

The Artist leaned back just an inch. He reached his hands up and ran them through his hair. “Care to explain?” 

Deceit nodded. The most obvious way he could explain it was thusly. “You all mentioned earlier that the passage of time was illogical earlier.”

And that was all he had to say. The Thief swore, smacking himself in the head. The Bard groaned, burying his face in his hands as he leaned forward. The Artist blanched, expression dropping as his eyes widened at Deceit. 

See? Explaining that wasn’t so hard. 

Deceit bit his lip and took off his hat, running his hand through his hair and shaking his head. At this point, his words were burning the back of his throat like bile. 

No more tricks. He didn’t need to hide.

Patton reached over and rubbed Deceit’s knee. “Good job,” he said, a smile playing on his lips

“Ah, fuck,” the Thief turned to Logan, “You.”

The Bard pointed at Logan.

Logan slowly put his hands up. “This seems more accusatory than was intended.”

“No, no, no,” the Thief slapped the Bard’s hand and then pointed his own finger at Logan, “Are you okay? You must be tired. Fuck.”

“Wait, wait, that’d apply to ALL of you,” the Bard snapped in front of the Thief’s face and gestured to Patton, who was watching everything with a confused expression (why were they all so snappish with this?) , “Wow. We knew this would happen! We knew!”

“I’m a fucking moron,” the Artist snapped, taking off his glasses.

“Why?” Patton asked, now turning to him. 

The Artist clicked his tongue and waved his hand in front of the Bard’s face, cutting him off with his mouth open. “By being in the Imagination, especially for so long, you’re subconsciously affecting the world. We built everything in here without your input, so it’s illogical, without morals, without honest emotion or depth. It’s a bunch of drafts that’ve never interacted with another Side. You all being in here means you’re fixing it without knowing.”

Deceit smiled. Sweet, sweet victory.

“But I’ve been in the Imagination before,” Patton asked, brow furrowing, was that what Deceit was talking about earlier, “There wasn’t a problem then.”

“Yes,” all of them looked up at Logan, who took up the helm of explanation, “But that was because there was a unified Roman who could control what we experienced in the Imagination, correct?”

“Mhm, right on the money,” the Thief said, “The city you saw yesterday, Deceit? That sort of stuff would usually be hidden. That’s also why you’ve never seen this town, Padre, nor the characters.”

“It’s like subconscious editing, and you’re all trying to edit everything that’s ever been created,” the Bard covered his mouth, brows pinching in mortification, “Oh, goodness, my darling stars, are you sure you are alright?”

Deceit loved being right. He looked at Logan, who nodded. “A mild headache,” he rolled his shoulders and cracked his neck, “But beyond that, nothing.”

“Are you sure?” the Artist asked. 

He looked at Patton, who was swaying slightly beside him, eyes fixated on the wall directly ahead. That couldn’t be good.

Carefully, the Artist picked up his glasses and slid them onto his face, turned him towards himself. Patton blinked, stare now focusing in on the Artist’s tired but relieved smile. “You’re stretching yourself thin, Patt,” he murmured. 

Patton smiled back, forcing the excited and positively positive expression back out. He was so tired; it was difficult to understand what was happening, as always, but the Romans had verbalized it so well. He was feeling everything. Intensifying every feeling, and then extrapolating the moral repercussions onto every action that every character was making.

No wonder he had been so exhausted. The Artist ran a hand through his hair and Patton’s smile immediately fell again. He let his head lean into the Artist’s hand, eyes closed. 

On the other hand, the Bard stood up and took one stride to stand directly in front of Logan. He gently cupped Logan’s cheek, feeling his head with the back of his hand. “You don’t have a fever. There’s a lot in here — we have a superhero world, that’s been expanded upon after the cartoon episode, but we have a lot of medieval worlds and quite a few fantasy rules that simply don’t abide by laws. Not to mention—”

He continued talking about the worlds they’d made and checking on Logan’s well being, seemingly unaware of how the logical side was frozen stiff in his hands. 

Deceit thought it was hilarious. Logan seemed so flustered with the Bard rushing around him, smoothing out his tense shoulder muscles without any real understanding of why they were tense. 

At least, he thought it was hilarious until the Bard hurried over to him. He immediately took off Deceit’s hat and ran his hands through his hair, tilting his head up. “You, too, Loki, you’ve got to be tired from helping with our storylines. Here,” he moved to go around Deceit, also not noticing how bright red he was, but the Thief finally stopped him.

“Look, let’s….let’s be up front,” the Thief clapped, drawing attention wearily back to himself, “We told Deceit this, but we need to tell the two of you as well.”

“....Wait, what did you say?” the Artist asked.

The Bard grinned at him, then looked down at Patton. Of course! They had to tell everyone. They wanted to share this!

“I love you.”

Patton blinked, then grinned. 

Warmth.

Butterflies. 

The Artist opened his mouth, but only a choked “oh” escaped. The Bard didn’t wait for his approval, though, turning to Logan as well and saying, “And I love you, too! And I love Deceit! And I love Virgil! I love all of you! So, so much!”

Logan nodded slowly. 

That was

Quite a bit to process. He only just accepted that he loved Patton last night, please give Logan up to 5 business days to acknowledge his emotions. He nodded curtly, though his bright red visage betrayed how flustered he was. 

It was Deceit’s turn to hold his hand. Not too much, but just enough of a firm grip to let Logan know that they were okay. That it was okay.

The Bard didn’t seem to mind the lack of immediate validation, as he continued to bounce in place, positively buzzing with happiness. With LOVE! With ROMANCE! 

He was so GOSH DARN ENDEARING. Patton looked back at the Artist, who was still a blushed statue. 

Patton loved them, too. He loved them!

“I love you, too,” he said, turning to look at the Bard, a honest smile splitting his face.

The Bard’s hands shot up as he patted his own face. “Patton! I love you, too, too!”

“I love you, too, too, too!” Patton laughed, reaching up a hand.

The Bard took his hand and pulled him up in one fluid spin, and they hugged, arms wrapped around each other’s waists. 

This made sense, to the other two Romans. Leave it to the Bard to be able to channel Roman’s romance; he housed most of it, after all. 

They watched the Bard and Patton laugh and sway, chirping about love together. 

And then Patton leaned forward and kissed him. 

Roman froze. 

Slowly, he reached a hand up and ran it through Patton’s hair, cupping his head and pulling him closer. 

I love you, my dearheart.

The Thief and the Artist were frozen, from what Logan and Deceit could see, and it even looked like the Bard was frozen. Their forms shimmered of the deepest red and the brightest gold, for a moment.

DONTTOUCHMEDONT

The Bard pulled back. 

The Artist fell backwards, then scrambled up to his feet. He looked around at the Thief, who was sitting on the couch, eyes wide at the ceiling, then at Logan and Deceit, who were watching him with expressions of intrigue and horror. 

“I’m — I — Kitchen,” the Artist bolted out immediately.

Logan watched the Bard untangle himself from Patton, only to immediately lean forward and hug him again. That was certainly a surprise to witness. It served as more evidence that the figments of Roman were less tangible as Sides than any of them were, made from the Imagination rather than as new Sides. 

His thought process couldn’t ignore the tight fear that he’d felt when all of them disappeared, however. It was….that was terror. This was what terror felt like.

“I guess his theory was right.”

Deceit was watching the Thief, still frozen, with a frown. Logan wasn’t sure what he was referring to, as they hadn’t theorized that thus far. “Whose?” 

Deceit nodded to the Bard, whose hands were tenderly wrapped around Patton’s waist, kiss broken and face buried into his chest. “True love’s kiss. The Bard thought that that may be the answer to bringing Roman back.”

Ah, of course. Logan let out a suffering sigh. He wasn’t opposed to the idea, but they had all been going so fast. It was already a large realization that he loved the others, compounded with their surprising and enthusiastic reciprocation. Plus, the notion of expecting such a romantic and fantastical gesture was certainly far enough up Roman’s figurative alley that he would include that as a failsafe.

Then, there was a knock on the door. 

“Come in,” Patton called, hands still gently drumming against the Bard’s back. He still felt giddy. Roman loved him, Logan loved him, Deceit loved him — he just needed to tell Virgil! 

The Playwright opened the door, a thick stack of papers in one hand, hair mussed and tousled, glasses slightly askew. He didn’t seem to mind, though, as he fixed them carefully and let out one quick laugh. “That felt amazing,” he was breathlessly pleased.

“What did?”

“The kiss,” the Playwright said, a soft smile landing on his lips as he set the papers down beside Deceit on the table.

Deceit nodded and looked at the top one. It was a sketch, from multiple angles, of a suit and mask. Octopus?

The Artist peeked his head in through the open door and slowly shuffled in again. He looked at the Playwright, who slung an arm around his shoulders and hugged him tight quickly before letting go fast. 

“You felt it?” Logan asked, rubbing his chin in thought.

More fodder to the figurative Roman figment fire.

The Playwright grinned, but the Artist just let out a humored breath. Even he was feeling warm and fuzzy, despite the shock of being….touched. It felt weird still, and it felt weird for it to feel weird. “We’re all Roman, dearest, we all felt it,” the Artist exhaled, letting the nickname simmer. 

They slowly looked up at the Bard, nestled into Patton’s chest, who had the most serene expression. His hands were intertwined behind Patton’s back, swaying on his feet slowly as though dancing to music none of them could hear. Ecstatic.

The Thief finally relaxed, blinking up at the Playwright and the Artist. Best to….not acknowledge what had just happened. “Playwright? You brought some outfits?” he asked.

The Bard did not leave Patton’s hold, but for some reason, the hold was stabilizing Patton’s mentality enough that he turned to the Playwright with everyone else. 

The Playwright nodded, professional tension returning to his demeanor. He gestured to the stack of papers. “I’ve got some outfits,” some was an understatement, as the stack was almost as large as Logan’s 300 page Christmas gift. “If you aren’t opposed, I’ll conjure them up.”

A small bead of silence. 

They were going to reassemble Roman. It was going to work. And they were going to do it with love and determination. 

“....Thank you, Playwright,” said figment turned to the Artist, who was giving him a kind smile. “Thank you for your work. Always appreciated.

The Playwright blinked in confusion. “I…Thank you, Artist,” he slowly smiled back, feeling self-respect well in his chest. “That’s good to hear.”

He looked around to everyone else and pushed up his glasses. He could do this. He was Roman! He was. They were all Roman, and they were going to reassemble themselves. 

They could do this. The Playwright motioned for the first design. “Let’s get down to business.”

#chivalry au #fic #my fic #roman #logan #patton #deceit #roman sanders #ts roman #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #deceit sanders #ts deceit #thomas sanders #sanders sides #ts fanfic #yeehaw hours are NOW oys here it IS S S #god i have the world's biggest headache #i guess im logan asldkfaslak #gonna go home and *hits whip* cook rice and nap

[incorrectsanders]

Fear

So, I know this isn’t my usual content but I couldn’t get that post about Pride!Roman and Virgil being created by fear out of my head. I can’t find either of them now, so if you know them, please send me them so I can give credits! uHHH I really hope you guys like this. Let me know if I should do more writing. Also posting this at one in the morning with minimal editing.

Edit!: Found the fear post

Warnings: Deceit, Manipulation, Implied abuse, Violence (not graphic)

Virgil hated storms. They were loud and obnoxious and dangerous- so many things could go wrong in a storm. He hated having to think of all the possible things that could go wrong constantly as it was, and in storms like this, that was only amplified.

The others helped calm that down, though. They all manifested together, they gathered around Thomas’ living room, they took Virgil’s mind off of the danger.

“Mario Party, again? We played three rounds of that just last week.” Logan protested, and Roman only dramatically sputtered, throwing his hands up.

“And we played your stupid brain games that night as well!”

“PROFESSOR LAYTON IS NOT A GAME, IT IS AN ART FORM” Logan shouted. Virgil giggled lightly, snuggling into Patton’s side. This made things a lot easier. Light bickering, soft cuddles, Patton’s hand slowly twirling in his hair, Thomas sighing and trying to solve quarls. It was like routine for them.

What was not routine was the three branch that came crashing through the window that sent them all screaming and jumping from their places on the couch.

“Well isn’t this lovely.” A new voice came, only sending them screaming again. Virgil gasped shakily when he realized who the figure was, trying to look towards Roman. The prince had already realized though, and was currently tugging Virgil into his arms, his eyes wide and his sword drawn.

“W-Who…” Thomas started, glancing quickly between the broken window and back at the stranger on the couch. A new side? Physically, he was identical to all the others. He wore a green cloak, much like the reapers constantly displayed in media, and he had a black Phantom of the Opera mask covering half of his face. His voice… was chilling.

“Allow me to introduce myself. I’m Fear.” He said, smirking up at Roman and Virgil, who were curled up into each other. “It’s been a while, hasn’t it, my pets?” He asked. Virgil hissed at him, but gasped as the figure lifted one finger and gestured towards him. He involuntarily went stumbling over, landing in the others arms.

“Roman!” Virgil cried.

“Let him go, Phobos!” Patton shouted, taking a couple steps forward.

“Fear?! Is this another side Deceit has been hiding?!” Thomas asked quickly.

“Not quite…” Fear sing-songed, holding Virgil close as the side started thrashing in his grip. The others kept their distance, knowing what could happen if they got too close.

“Thomas, Fear is… different than the rest of us. He’s more powerful, he overrides all of us. Not unlike Virgil during one of his attacks… but he can only manifest when there’s an immediate threat. He’s… supposed to keep you safe but in your case he’s a bit… debilitating.” Logan spoke slowly.

“I thought Virgil keeps me safe?!” Thomas protested, and Logan shook his head a little. “It’s different.” He said, watching as Virgil slowly started calming down in Fear’s grip. “Anxiety is a reaction towards something that could happen. Fear is a reaction to something that is happening… He can’t be here when there isn’t a threat about to hurt you.”

“Which is why I made him. To have my say in things at all time.” Fear smirked. “Mine. My little pet. Why haven’t you come visit me? I’ve been missing my little pets lately.” He cooed, smirking up at Roman, who’s eyes narrowed.

“Yours?!” Patton hissed. Thomas looked over, shocked. He’d never seen Patton speak with that kind of malice before.

The figure laughed, moving over and tracing his black gloved hand down Virgil’s jaw.

“Of course... always been mine. I raised him. Didn’t I darling?” He cooed lightly. Virgil felt himself getting weaker despite his efforts to fight against the aspect. As much as he liked to believe he was good now, it was true. Fear created him, raised him to be his perfect little pet. He sent him to the light sides to be his own personal spy.

“Yes, Sir.” He breathed. A smirk curled over Fear’s lips as Virgil’s eyes started glowing green, the man’s signature color.

“Virgil-“ Patton started, only for the dark side to sneer.

“Anxiety.” He corrected. “He doesn’t need a name. He’s not a side. No no, he’s just my little pet.” He said, gently tilting the boy’s chin up. Virgil couldn’t even protest, he looked up into the man’s eyes and his body went soft. He belonged to his creator, after all.

Logan glanced between the two, getting tenser and taking a step forward.

“L-Logan?”

“What is it, Anxiety?”

The man was at his desk, sketching out a new schedule for the next week. Anxiety felt horrible bothering him but he was the calmest one. Patton would only screech and hug him to death if he came to him with this and Roman was a horrible idea.

“I was... wondering if you can help me pick out a name.”

Logan stopped then, looking up at the other aspect.

“You don’t have one?” He asked slowly. That made sense. How Anxiety constantly deflected questions about his name, why none of them even knew it.

“Dark sides don’t... have names.” He responded. He could hear Dorian laughing. The soft ‘now now, little one, what are we up to here? You wouldn’t want me to tell you-know-who, would you?’ He felt a shiver go up his spine at that... but it was fine. He’d been gone for a long time now. It had been years since they needed him.

“Ah... I see.” Logan said, raising an eyebrow before he waved a hand and conjured up another chair. “Come sit. We’ll find one that fits you.” He said simply.

That’s where the lie was.

“Let him go!” Roman cried, pulling out his sword. Fear only rolled his eyes and flicked a finger, sending the sword flying and sticking into the wall.

“Why would I?” Fear smirked. “He belongs to me. You’d remember that, wouldn’t you?” He asked, his eyes flickering down to Virgil’s. The boy was weak now, leaning into fear with green glowing eyes.

“It’s not my house but purple and green do seem to go together, right?”

The aspect chuckled, slowly petting at Virgil’s hair. He knew every little way to make the younger aspect melt for him. “Or do I have to remind you, Pride?” He asked. Roman sneered in response.

“What is going on?!” Thomas shouted, his eyes flicking between them all. “Logan?!” He asked, looking helplessly to the side.

“I-I don’t-”

“I could tell everyone everything.” Anxiety sneered, glaring up at Roman. The side chuckled under his breath, picking up his black crown.

“Oh but you won’t, will you? Then they’ll send you back with me. You’ll go back to being our little pet.” He purred, placing a ginger finger under his chin and tilting his head up. “So pretty.” He cooed. Anxiety just glared and slapped his hand away.

“Watch your fucking step, Prid-“ He started. Roman glared, pushing him right up against the wall.

“Don’t you ever let me hear you say that name again. I don’t care what Phobos says, you’ll be /done/.” He hissed in the figment’s face. The smaller one nodded slowly and Roman let him go, stalking away. Logan frowned from his place around the corner, wondering what exactly he had just heard.

“As far as I remember, you never had a problem using him either. You were quite fond of him.” Fear cooed, moving over and dragging a finger under the sides chin. Roman glared as his appearance slowly changed, his normal white and red uniform changing to a black and purple one. “You even gave him your color.” He chuckled.

“R-Roman...?” Thomas asked slowly.

“You made him for me, after all.” The side sneered.

“Roman?!” Thomas repeated.

“Thomas, there’s... a lot you don’t know.” Roman said slowly, as his crown was placed on his head and slowly started growing black vines down his face.

“Well, tell him, Pride.” Fear hissed. Roman glared, snatching the crown off his head and throwing it off to the side. The thing hissed, the vines retracting back inside.

“I don’t need to, because that’s not my name anymore.” He said, snatching Virgil away and into his grasp. His eyes faded back to brown and he gave a scared little gasp, rushing to cling to Roman’s uniform. He cried out when he caught the color of it, scrambling away and over to Logan and Patton, who were huddled away now. They easily caught Virgil, holding him in between them and staring at the scene in front of them.

“Vi, no. Not anymore, remember?” Roman spoke gently, changing his colors back with a quick snap of his fingers. “Not anymore.”

“Oh, so I might not have had Roman create half as many of the stories and worlds he did without Virgil giving me reason to. That’s weird...”

The two shared a scared glance. Things were different now. They didn’t want to be found out. They’d agreed together that sticking together would be the smartest thing to do to stay with their family.

Phobos was the master of manipulation. Using their deepest fears to keep them on his side, against the others. That was done now. They were done with him now.

If Thomas found out the real connection between the two of them…

Virgil slowly relaxed, nodding as he clutched his fingers against Logan’s shirt. Roman. Not Pride, Roman.

“Someone tell me what’s going on now!” Thomas demanded.

“Gladly.” Fear grinned. The sight made the host recoil, shifting to stand closer to Logan, Patton, and Virgil. The four hadn’t flinched away from Deceit, but he could see why they were flinching away from Fear. He was terrifying.

“Anxiety is a figment. We all have them. He happens to be mine.” He said simply. “Figments are managed by us. Logic has Sleep, Interest. Morality has Humor, Love. Pride- or ‘Creativity’ as he’s chosen to go by has Lust, Ego. There’s quite a few of them. They’re not full sides, but they help run things along, if you will.”

“Virgil is a side!” Logan shouted. “He manages figments of his own, he’s important to Thomas!”

“Virgil is a side now.” Roman corrected, his voice lower than the others. “He started out as an artificial figment. I created him because Phobos asked me to and-”

“You were in love.” Fear smirked.

“I was a fool.” Roman hissed back.

“He evolved. He changed. He became a side. A pesky little side that was supposed to do as told.” Fear said, looking over at Virgil who only whimpered and curled further into Logan and Patton.

“Well, this is unfortunate.” Phobos hummed, looking between the side and the new figment. “And you say he’s yours?” He asked, looking at the new figment. ‘Attachment’.

“He’s mine.” Anxiety mumbled quietly, head down. Phobos nodded lightly, placing a hand on his head. “I suppose it doesn’t matter too much. You can be a side all you want, but you’re still my little pet, aren’t you? Still gonna listen to me?”

The new side slowly nodded, his eyes fading into green.

“Yes, Sir.”

“I… you can change?” Thomas asked slowly.

“We can change as you do. I was once Curiosity, but that evolved into Logic.” Logan explained slowly.

“I… pretended to be Creativity. I have for a long time, but I’ve evolved into it now. It’s not just an act anymore.” Roman spoke up. “I promise, I-”

“We believe you, Ro…” Patton whispered lightly, nodding to him. The royal relaxed, nodding a bit to him.

Fear looked down, humming as his appearance started slowly fading away. “Oh, drats. I’ll have to visit again soon. Don’t worry.” He smirked, looking over at Virgil, his eyes flashing. “I’ll find a way.” He said, before he, unlike the other sides, faded out of view.

The five figures stood around, slowly catching their breath while they all stared at the spot where the side had been.

“I HAVE SEVERAL QUESTIONS.” Thomas shouted after a minute, as Roman and Virgil finally looked at each other again.

“We should clean up the window, first.” Roman breathed.

#not incorrect quotes #tw deceit #tw implied abuse #tw manipulation #tw non graphic violence #lots of implied stuff please bare with me #thomas sanders #sanders sides #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #pride!roman #dark side roman #dark side virgil #sanders sides fic #deciet sanders #deceit warning #fear sanders #i'm naming him phobos #like phobia #this is my first fic for this fandom #cursing #i'm gonna go hide in my hole now

[astromythical]

I'm definitely on a bit of an art binge. Anyway, here's Batuhan Tungalag, a healer in the novel I am currently working on.

I swear I will get Solnata's worldbuilding out one of these days.

#fantasy #artists on tumblr #procreate #digital illustration #original character #character design #my clothing rendering is awful #i swear one of these days i'm actually going to learn how to render clothes #i just hate the folds and creases so much #anyway this pose was fun #a crown of figments and deceit #acofad

[astromythical]

I've returned with more art!! This is slowly becoming an art blog, but whatever. Anyway, this is Tianlan al-Zia, a former soldier who is now studying at the University of Angchengan, in my book.

#look who finally learned to render #pretty proud of this one ngl #my art #digital art #original character #fantasy #procreate #a crown of figments and deceit #acofad

[astromythical]

Been a while since I posted my art, but here you go! Her name is Ailís, and her design is probably my favourite. I just love working with teals and blues.

I think I’ve improved. Maybe? Just a little bit?

#art #my art #artists on tumblr #digital illustration #procreate #fantasy #original character #character design #a crown of figments and deceit #acofad

[astromythical]

Map of Thia

So, I might have started another, totally different project. 😁 The map was pretty quick compared to other ones that I've made. I used Azgaar's Fantasy Map Generator for this one, which I suppose is a little like cheating since I don't have to draw the map myself, but configuring is a lot more work than I expected.

This is just a small snippet of the world, but I don't expect the characters to go any farther north or south, so. With my previous fantasy worlds, I've focused more on European cultures and languages, but I decided to focus more on Asian and African cultures, this time.

As an example, Solnata has cultures based on Arabic, Imazighen, Korean, and Chinese cultures. The names of people are based on names from different African cultures, and the original capital of Solnata, Husanol, is based on Babylon.

Did I have to create a map and intricate histories for each country when I'm only planning on writing a short story that takes place solely in Solnata? No. But I'm having fun, so I might as well. I'll most likely post the worldbuilding, once I've completed them.

#fantasy maps #worldbuilding #cartography #fantasy world #mapmaking #map generators #thia #a crown of figments and deceit #acofad