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latibvles · 1 year

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IT’S NICE TO HAVE A FRIEND.

a conversation about TP characters lead to me essentially going “y’all think Lena and Daisy wouldn’t be besties? bffr” and in turn Sam enabling me into writing a Lena & Daisy ficlet so! this one is in part for @almost-a-class-act , some postwar sweetness with my two best girls. some discussions of ptsd but pretty tame. every day is galentines day in casa de poet. (this also isn’t proofread because we ballin out here)

She’s never been especially partial to these military dinners.

Dressing nice was fun the first couple of times. And she likes the almost ritualistic quality of smoothing out Ron’s jacket for him and the latter stealing a kiss that leaves a faint red stain on his own mouth.

It’s the least they can do. Showing up, “catching up”, eating dinner and dancing and the rest of the pomp and circumstance that comes with mingling with your husband’s coworkers' wives. Still, it’s also an acute reminder of the difference between military wives and wives who served in the military.

She’ll narrowly dodge the questions about Ron and skim over the things she’s done, rehashing Eindhoven so many times she thinks that scar on her shoulder’s starting to blister all over again. If her mother’s taught her anything, it’s manners, so she’ll smile politely and withstand it because it’s a once-in-a-blue-moon occurrence anyways. And then she can complain about it while Ron runs his fingers through her hair and undoes the curls that took all day to perfect.

Tonight, it’s business as usual.

Beneath the table Ron meticulously runs his thumb over her wedding band, like he’s verifying she’s still there, and the other people seated with them make conversation, reminiscing on wartime like it’s a distant ballgame.

She finds it fascinating, in its way, how career military feels like a spiderweb. A brother here, a colleague there, a Colonel knowing you through a connection with a sergeant during the war — like meeting your third cousins at a family gathering after you’ve missed all the big milestones.

Somehow these things manage to feel uncomfortably intimate and yet jarringly remote at the same time.

But they’re talking about Europe which means they’re looking at her, too, to participate, because she’s the wife in the military and not just the military wife. And Ron’s thumb is rubbing with a little more precision — outlining the gem in the middle of her engagement ring too and catching his nail on it every now and again.

It’s the usual song and dance — who went where and did what. Poor Patton, bless his heart, laments one of the women whose names she’s admittedly already forgotten. But she knows Patton and she knows about his march through Bastogne, and that he died in an automobile accent after the war. A far cry from the “blaze-of-glory” ending that soldiers like to romanticize.

And on and on it goes, about the officers who opted to stay instead of leaving, and at some point Ron cracks a dry joke about being unable to trust German Shepherds ever since encountering one in the Ardennes, which garners a true smile from her, if anything. But there’s still a chill creeping on the edges of her mind that she can’t stave off.

Patton, Bastogne, Belgium — she can’t look back on it with flippancy and she’s not partial to pretending about it either. Whichever silver-linings she tried to find were still shrouded in melancholy.

It’s a little like… closing and locking all the windows and doors on a winter morning, tucking towels in the crevices, but the chill creeping in all the same.

She squeezes Ron’s hand a little tighter under the table, tries to focus on the white-noise chatter around them rather than the conversation at the table. It almost works.

There’s a heavy hand on her shoulder, a squeeze, and a clearing of the throat.

“Excuse me, Captain. You don’t mind if I steal your wife for a moment?” The voice is light and airy and familiar in a way that sends a shock of excitement through the point where they connect. Ron looks up and Daisy’s sure to follow.

A warm smile graces Lena Basilone’s lips — like she’s got a secret that she isn’t letting the rest of the world in on. What Daisy wants to say is ‘Lena!’, as loud and shock-filled as she feels, seeing the Marine. But she doesn’t do that, her hand unfurling from Ron’s and giving him a smile that feels more natural on her face.

“You can borrow but you can’t keep her.” Ron offers calmly, the slightest lilt to his voice as his grip on her loosens. Daisy looks at him and smiles, grateful.

“I won’t be long.” She reassures, rising and feeling Lena’s hand wrap around her wrist to drag her off.

She’d met her once, when she’d visited a veteran’s hospital in Long Beach. They asked her to come speak to the new nurses there and Lena was volunteering at the time.

But she’d just been Lena and in a similar vein, Daisy was just Daisy. Which was nice. Of course, she was surprised nonetheless upon learning she was Lena Riggi Basilone, but didn’t try to make such a big deal of it. Lena was nice and funny and they got coffee and called, on occasion.

She didn’t expect her to be here though, swooping in like some kind of superhero.

“Looked like you were getting ready to light that table on fire from how hard you were staring at it.” It’s a half-jest as they step outside into the corridor of the banquet hall, and down a little further.

“Well if I did I would’ve put it out too. Table manners,” Lena laughs at that, a light and airy sound as they find their way towards the bar. A few men stand and sit with cigarettes and whiskey glasses, the radio crackling. They take two seats and Lena’s quick to order them two glasses of something dark. “You didn’t tell me you’d be here.”

“I wasn’t planning on it,” she offers, and then hesitates for a moment, lips pressing into a line. “George asked me to come with him.” The ‘for John’ goes unsaid but they can hear it all the same.

“Quite the persuasive one, that George.”

“Or maybe I knew deep in my gut an old medic would need a quick escape.”

“I didn’t know marines training involved fortune telling. You should make a comic book.” The bartender comes back with two whiskey glasses, shooting them both an arched brow that Daisy dismisses, taking a sip and letting it roll over her tongue before swallowing. Lena smiles and mimics, with a slight roll of her eyes.

“Same old song?” She asks, to which Daisy gives her a more bittersweet smile.

“Isn’t it always?” Lena grins behind her glass.

“Ask them about their kids’ baseball games and they’ll go on for hours. They like to brag.” Daisy snorts at that unabashedly, which in turn makes Lena giggle to the point where her eyes are crinkling and they’re certainly getting a few strange looks from the men at this bar. It was almost fascinating how women could turn up their noses and stare down upon them now — as if they weren’t the ones keeping their husbands alive and fed during the war itself. The ones who were content to simply be back in the home again, who still couldn’t seem to wrap their heads around doing anything beyond having children and making a home.

“Oh but you must remember, Lena, that these are the prime birthing years and my mother needs to meet her grandchildren so I have to get started right away!” Daisy accentuates her point by grabbing Lena’s hand and putting on a face of mock concern, sarcasm flowing from her lips as easily as the whiskey slips into Lena’s mouth, emptying the glass. She has to cover her mouth with her free hand to swallow fast and suppress the laughter.

“Right, right, my apologies. Should I clear out a closet and give you and the Captain some alone time?”

“It’d be much appreciated.”

Their bodies shake with laughter as the chill is effectively snuffed out for the moment, their faces mildly flushed from their giggling and the weight on Daisy’s shoulders feeling twenty times lighter. She lets go of Lena’s hand to rub her nose.

It’s easy lapsing into conversation after that — because Lena doesn’t poke at old wounds or rip off band-aids. She asks about things like her parents, if she’s been home in a while, where Ron’s stationed and what they did for the holidays. And Daisy returns it. She might not be a medic anymore but Lena’s still a marine and that part is interesting, what she does in a day and how it’s different from her old routines, how they align. And it’s something Lena’s proud to talk about, too, which is always nice.

They sit there at that bar, for a solid thirty minutes; all smiles, like they’ve known each other for years rather than months. She only really notices when she glances at the clock, behind the bar, and remembers that Ron (who also would rather be anywhere but here) is still in that dining room.

“For better or for worse, Ron and I have a ‘no man left behind’ policy that I think I’ve been effectively violating,” she starts, still a bit playful. “But if I need to be whisked away again I’ll send up a flare. Or just light the table on fire.” Lena smiles and rolls her eyes as she leaves a tip for the bartender.

“Just remember to put it out too. Table manners, Daisy.” Lena loops their arms for a moment. Daisy returns the smile.

"Right, how could I possibly forget?"

#Lena basilone ficlet #band of brothers oc #*postwar sweetness #the pacific fic #band of brothers fic #. daisy clarke

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dina-thomas · 1 year

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Candice Patton / She/Her / Cis Woman | Have you met DINA THOMAS yet? They’re the THIRTY-FOUR year old EVENING NEWS ANCHOR that lives around FINCH PARK. I think they’ve lived in Seattle for ONE MONTH. From what I’ve heard, they’re HEARTFELT but once you’ve known them long enough you’ll find they can also be TEMPERAMENTAL. When I think of them, I usually think of GOOD DAYS by SZA. (OOC: Jessa, 24, she/her, EST)

BASICS!

nickname(s): dee, didi age: thirty-four date of birth: june 29, 1988 zodiac sign: cancer gender/pronouns: cis woman sexual orientation: pansexual romantic orientation: panromantic residence: finch park occupation: evening news anchor for king 5 news

Dina Emerson Thomas grew up in a suburb of Houston, Texas in a huge tight-knit family that's been part of the community for decades. Her father, Maxwell, worked as a semi-truck driver for touring artists whereas her mother, Samira, was a homemaker. Her father made a name of himself within his industry, and he brought up his three children up in a good home. Dina was the name from of her great-grandmother on her mother's side, and Emerson was her paternal great-grandmother's name. So many traditional names were inherited, so it was almost as if she had a lot to live up to.

Being the baby of the family as well as the only girl meant that Dina grew up somewhat spoiled and protected. Though, she wasn't protected in the way of being sheltered. Instead, her family helped her learn to stand up for herself. They wanted to protect her, but they also knew that they wouldn't be around all the time. So instead of fending off people who might hurt her, they gave her the tools necessary to defend herself.

While her father and brothers taught her to be tough, her mother taught her to be classy and elegant. Her mother taught her to be sensitive to others and empathetic to their issues. She also taught her to love the softer things in life and made sure that Dina was aware that being a free-spoken woman didn't mean she couldn't embrace her childlike wonder or romantic side. Growing up in a well rounded environment allowed her to become the woman she is today - a lovely mix of sweet and sassy, confident and independent, caring but not too naive.

Dina did fairly well in school because there was always someone to ask for help when it came to her school work. What she didn't do well at, surprisingly, was social interaction. As outgoing as her family members seemed to be, Dina was a bit more on the reserved side in public and chose to stick to herself or the one or two friends she made that moved with her through school. Her parents worried a bit about her development, but eventually gave up, figuring she'd come into her own and break out of her shell when she was ready.

Dina was never really that rebellious teenager that would sneak out in the middle of the night, but she never did adhere to a curfew. She often came home later than she was supposed to only to get yelled at in the morning. She would excuse herself by telling them she had a poor sense of time, which didn't really work. Her parents were never awfully strict though, so they would forget about it later on. They knew she wasn't going out doing drugs. That was something she never experimented with.

Entering into high school was a bit scary for Dina. Everyone was talking about crushes on boys while she looked around and had crushes on boys and girls. Not knowing what she was feeling, she talked to her parents about it and they reassured her that they would love her no matter what. It allowed Dina to feel comfortable about exploring her feelings without worrying about if she would be unaccepted. After dating a few different people, she knew she was pansexual and felt comfortable with finally labeling herself.

When it came time to apply to college, Dina knew that she wanted to go into something that was in journalism. Her passion for telling stories kicked into high gear after spending her years in high school behind an anchor desk for the school's news, and getting the feel of what it would be like to be a broadcast journalist. After looking through her options, she settled on going to school in Missouri and eventually graduated with a bachelor's degree in journalism. Afterwards, she accepted an offer from a local station in Atlanta, Georgia where she worked hard to gain respect. In the mean time, she fell in love with Sunny Fletcher and soon found herself in a serious relationship. However, Dina called it quits after many years into their relationship when she began to feel like she was an afterthought to Sunny, not wanting to be in a relationship that mirrored her parents where she spent more time missing her partner than being with them.

Dina spent her first night after the breakup in bed, crying. She realized that she was terrified of being alone. Before the breakup, she felt like her life had been set in stone for her by Sunny's job and had too much pride to tell her ex-girlfriend how she really felt. But Dina looked at her life and kept pushing forward. Her mother started nagging her about the life that she had given up. Her father tried to support her as much as possible since she was still his little girl.

After spending many years in Atlanta, Dina felt like she needed a change of scenery to help her feel like herself again. She was ready to try to be happier in a place that didn't have memories tied to her ex. And so, Dina picked a spot on the map and drove to Seattle and wanted to make a name for herself. It wasn't long before she got a job offer to replace one of the evening news anchors who worked at King 5 News before she did. Dina moved into a small place in Finch Park and started subletting her place in Atlanta after she left it. Seattle was going to be her new home.

Now she's trying to make her life happier by going out and shedding the life she had in Atlanta. Granted, she sounds like a definite outsider in this big city. Maybe she would be better off staying in Atlanta and powering through it, but she has a plan. That plan: just be happier. Though, to be honest, asking her to describe how she truly feels at any given time would be a disaster and while she is always happy to put on the mask - whoever was necessary to be - it never feels completely natural. But she is good at hiding her emotions.

It's only been a year after their breakup and Dina is still feeling some remnants of their relationship. Dina is coping with life on her own and sometimes she gets mad at herself as she could have been making lifelong plans with Sunny by now, but she pulls herself together. And in this new environment, she's already working on getting the most out of the city. But there's one thing she forgot about Seattle before she took the leap... Sunny Fletcher also lives in the city.

HEADCANONS!

She's not a super great cook and when she knows she has to be a host, she brings home carry out and fixes them up a bit and makes them kinda fancy. Other than that, she's usually dining on takeout. That also means that she's looking forward to enjoying and exploring Seattle's exploding restaurant scene.

She really loves traveling - a bucket list goal of hers is to travel to each continent around the world.

She enjoys being active outside and exploring national and state parks. She loves hiking, and can't wait to explore more of the areas around Seattle.

Playing board games and visiting bars are common weekend activities for her.

She is a huge music fan - specifically 90s r&b! She grew up playing the piano and occasionally still finds time to play.

She's also is a huge sports fan. She follows Houston sports extensively, especially the Houston Rockets. When she isn't working, you can catch her with some sort of game on if she isn't at one in person.

She loves volunteering and is always looking to meet people around the community.

She grew up doing competitive dance and cheer. While in Georgia, her favorite activity was teaching contemporary and hip-hop-inspired routines at various dance studios in Atlanta and hopes to make that happen in Seattle.

Other activities she enjoys are working out, going to brunch, shopping and watching Netflix.

She has trouble expressing her emotions in a positive way. Meaning that she tends to avoid them and how she feels sometimes until they bottle up and explode, leading to arguments with loved ones where she doesn't have the words to express how she feels. She's a lot more sensitive than she lets on. The kind of person that would cry and then five minutes later be like "well, that was embarrassing as fucking shit, so let's never mention it again." So… she leaves. Which is how she ended up in Seattle, to be honest.

She will do anything if it's a dare/competition, case and point: reigning champion at an Atlanta restaurant for eating the most hot dogs in two minutes (and she's literally so proud about it).

Dina says she likes scary movies but actually ends up hiding her face in someone's chest for the entire movie… literally. She peeks out and then hides again. It's pathetic.

She used to help out with her grandmother's yard sales and would hustle people for twice their money on items that she had an attachment to.

(injury tw) Once broke her leg falling out of a tree she had climbed, and had her brothers decorate the cast with various doodles and drawings.

(nsfw tw) She has a sex toy collection, self explanatory.

likes: sunsets, journaling, mountains, audiobooks, homecooked meals, dancing, concerts, the spring season, oversized sweaters, found family, pizza, tea, word puzzles, solo dance parties, cheese, candles, nature, red wine, movie dates, hugs, spicy food, stargazing, new clothes, sushi, high heels, the beach, shared playlists, cats, gold jewelry, leftover chinese food.

dislikes: cooking, coffee, waffles, true crime tv shows, rainy days, driving, cherries, early mornings, intense and emotional conversations, socks, .

aspirations: make new friends in town, further her career in journalism, providing a platform for people to voice their concerns about their community, continue to report ethically while disseminating information people want to, need to, or ought to know.

pet-peeves: people who talk with their mouth full, people who don't respect service workers, people who don't use their manners, wearing wet clothes, waking up before her alarm clock, finding out she has lipstick on her teeth.

PLOTTING + WANTED CONNECTIONS

PLATONIC

Okay, so, Dina is new in town. She's extremely quiet, but she's friendly. She's not one to go out and actively search for people/friends, but she's an absolute sweetheart so she'd be more than open to friendships with as many people as possible. She works as an evening news anchor for King 5 News, but she spends most of her time in Seattle trying to make her life over, so really if anyone is willing to go out on a limb and make her their friend, she would literally do anything they want. That's just how she makes friends. Her friends, however, are going to have to be able to deal with someone who may literally lock herself in her house with a large pizza and not speak to anyone for days. Also, her friends will have to deal with her going a little overboard on making people happy. Overall, she has a good reputation and she's very affectionate and caring. Once someone is in her heart, they have a place in it forever.

While she can sometimes be a tad too intrusive, she rarely shares much about herself that she considers too 'heavy'. The kind of person that would suggest waving away issues instead of confronting them (or just jumping in headfirst without much thought), she's probably not the best person to go to for solid advice but she does a good enough job of making those she cares about feel better, even if it's only for a little while.

Surprisingly not that big on the party scene, but she does frequent such spaces since she likes having the company around, so she's probably gathered a fair amount of party friends during her stay here.

ANTAGONISTIC

As easy as it is for Dina to try and befriend people, it might be even easier for her to rub people the wrong way. Sometimes on purpose, sometimes not. And while it unfortunately isn't too hard for her to fall out of contact with friends, keeping enemies is something that she's far better at doing. She's got a knack for holding grudges and being a pain in the ass.

Peace, love, more tolerance… is what Dina would say if some people didn't make her eyes roll into the back of her head more times than she could count, if she bothered to count at all. Every now and again, Dina has these moments when she's so eager to argue with someone that she could jump into arguments she has no place being in, largely because she can never keep her opinions to herself. And why should she? In her mind, everything she says is brilliant and also the cold hard truth, and anyone that says otherwise should be ready to have Dina talk their ears off about how wrong they are. Plus, she has to flush out all that frustration she never addresses somehow, right?

ROMANTIC

Outside of going on dates here and there and maybe one or two one-night-stands, Dina hasn't really had too much of a love life since she moved to Seattle. Granted, she recently got out of a pretty serious relationship just a year ago. She is a hopeless romantic, so she wants to be swept off of her feet eventually. Also, her mom is jumping down her throat to just settle down and have kids, so she's probably going to be putting that off as much as humanly people.

I'm pretty open to any kind of connections, so hit me up on here or on Discord!

CONNECTIONS

FRIENDS - Dina is an easy person to get along with, she has a competitive streak, and hates admitting when she is wrong sometimes. She wants to have a group of friends that she can confide in when she needs to talk to someone. She can be serious most of time, especially with work, but she has a comedic side where she can be funny. They do almost everything together, go out to eat, going to concerts, exploring Seattle, and sporting events. These friends can be people that she has recently met or we can plot something else, etc.

SUNNY FLETCHER (ex-girlfriend) - tbd.

MELODY GUERRERO (co-worker) - tbd.

NATE HEWITT (neighbor) - tbd.

#sewa.intro

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warcats-cat · 2 years

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The Long Road Home (Chapter 4)

A/N: A little bit of a break from the tension, this time we finally get some fluff! In the form of Prince Roman, being his usual Romano-self. Time to give our dear half fairy a little love! (Also, if you’re curious, I included a link to an image of the present that Patton receives, although in a different color.)

Let me know if I need to add any tags, and enjoy the silliest chapter in this fic! :D

Ao3 Link // Previous Chapter // Chapter 1

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Prince Roman was alone and he was bored. Logan was out, having finished all of his paperwork and wanting to deliver the summons to the Marquis personally. And Virgil was in the woods behind the inn, using his hunting knives to work out his anger among the trees. His poor storm cloud was filled with emotions lately, of course; the joy of finding a long lost friend, the ever-increasing rage as they uncovered what had been done to said friend. Protectiveness as the fairy healed.

They all wanted to see the fairy healed, and finally taken care of. Virgil said it would likely be a difficult subject to broach with Patton, but the throuple had almost immediately agreed to, at the least, bring him along in their travels if he wanted.

But now, they had been in this little village for almost a week with nothing to do, except wait. They had to do this by the book, to keep anything from threatening Patton in the future. And Roman had never been good with patience at the best of times…

In the meantime, the prince entertained himself in his room by laying backwards on the bed for a while, letting his head and upper back hang over the edge, feeling the world around him become just a little more dizzy and unreal in his headrush.

A knock at the door made him sit up far too quickly. Roman shook his head a little, as if that would clear it, and opened the door.

Only to find Patton, his arms now fully healed thanks to whatever magic his brilliant bespectacled boyfriend had mixed up.

The little fairy squeaked, quickly looking away from Romans eyes and wrapping an arm around his middle in a half-hug. He really is small, the prince thought; Patton only barely came up to Roman’s neck, which would make Logan no longer the shortest in their group. Small, yes, but sweetly rounded and soft. Like a beautiful pearl tucked safely in its clam shell.

“S—Sorry to disturb your Highness.” he stuttered.

And the light tremble in his arms, the way he carefully avoided Roman’s gaze. Roman wanted to reach over and carefully tuck the younger man into his arms; he wanted to pick Patton up and hold him, and perhaps never let go. Despite the short time he had known the fairy, the way Virgil had spoken of him even so long ago made Roman feel like he already knew at least a little, and still he wanted to know more.

To treat someone with such a beautiful soul so horribly.

“No disturbance, my dear guest.” Roman tried carefully, leaning into the doorway and out of the fairy’s space. “Would you like to come in?”

“Oh, uh, no. B—but I appreciate the offer! Um...” Patton continued to avoid Roman’s gaze, finding something incredibly interesting in the patterns of the wooden floor. “I was—I mean—I’ve just been in my room all day—and that’s fine, obviously!—But I was hoping Virgil would be back… I wanted to ask, uh, well…” he trailed off, and there was a long pause where neither man seemed to know what to say.

“Well,” Roman said finally, using his most placating voice, “Virgil is off speaking with the doctors in town. But whatever you needed, I would be more than happy to assist!” He flashed a smile despite the lie as Patton finally looked back up, but it seemed only to startle the fairy further.

With his own, much more false and hesitant smile, Patton fixed his gaze carefully over Roman’s shoulder now. “Oh. No, I—wouldn’t want to bother.”

Roman carefully stepped to the side, meeting the fairy’s eyes and reaching over to take one of his hands. “There would be no bother at all. Any friend of my beloved is a friend of mine.” he repeated his words from the stockade that had seemed to set the man at ease before.

And certain enough, though his eyes flicked away over Roman’s shoulder once more, Patton made a face, but his shoulders relaxed, and the fidgeting in his hands calmed somewhat.

“M—My stitches…” Patton said, almost a whisper.

Roman was suddenly concerned. “Do they hurt? I’m certain Logan could take a look at them if they're causing trouble, or we could send for someone.”

“No…” the fairy hesitated, before flushing red and finally admitting in the smallest voice Roman had ever heard. “They’re itchy…”

Roman broke into a wide grin, before throwing back his head and putting a hand to his chest. “Oh! How dreadful! How terrible! I, too, have known the pangs of healing wounds.” He took a now stunned Patton’s hands in his own, taking one knee before the fairy. “Truly, it is a most tragic situation. For I would assist in easing your pains if only I could! But alas! I am forbidden by Logan himself, fearsome man of the laws of medicine.”

Patton stared, confused at Roman’s antics, before letting out a small “Huh?”

“Logan would simply tear me to shreds if I disturbed your bandages. However!” Roman lit up, Standing up again and bringing Patton a little closer to him without realizing. “We can find a distraction! They can’t bother you if you’re doing something else!”

Patton continued to stare, and if he at least no longer seemed terrified, Roman would count it a win.

And the prince had the perfect idea.

“Fair Patton, I would be tremendously honored if you would accompany me into town.”

The fairy’s blank face only barely changed, one corner of his mouth ticking up into a hesitant half-smile, his eyes wide but no longer completely terrified. “What?”

Roman smiled wider, absolutely giddy. They could go down into town, and maybe help Patton get some actual fresh air, and Roman could finally meet the man for whom Virgil would jump from the roof of a carriage to save (no small feat, Roman didn’t have to explain.) Roman released one of Patton’s hands, holding the other and swinging gently. He looked to the stunned fairy, who was now staring at their joined hands, looking unsure.

“Patton?” Roman asked, now starting to worry just a bit. Finally, Patton seemed to shake his nerves, and looked up at Roman once again, with a light but still hesitant smile on his face. “Would you do me the honor of accompanying me?” the prince asked.

“Um... Sure.”

And that was all the permission Roman needed before setting off. Of course, Roman was attentive to his guest; Patton had only had a week of healing, so they ambled rather more slowly than the prince would have alone. The inn wasn’t too far off from the little town, at least, and the weather seemed perfect for a stroll; warm sunshine and light breezes swaying through the grass around them.

Patton kept pace with the prince easily, which Roman was rather proud of, although the fairy was hesitant to answer any questions about town or himself. After a few non-answers, Roman simply decided to swing their joined hands merrily.

Finally, the village was before them, and Roman was delighted to see they had entered at the market-side. This would be so fun.

However, when he looked to Patton to ask where he would want to start, he saw that the fairy had become closed off again; still holding his hand, and standing a little closer to the prince, but his shoulders were hunched just slightly, and he was looking down again. Roman pulled their arms, just a bit, to get Patton’s attention.

The hesitant smile was back, and the blank eyes.

“Is something wrong, Your Highness?” the fairy asked quietly.

Roman rolled the words around in his head for a moment, before sighing, and taking both of Patton’s hands once more. “My dear Patton, I fear I let my excitement get the better of me.” He reached up, tracing just under the fairy’s chin, lifting his eyes to his own. “I fear I am so eager to acquaint myself with you that I neglected to ask your opinion on the matter.”

Patton’s gaze turned away, but the hesitant smile stayed in place. He shrugged in lieu of an answer.

Roman knelt before the other man, tilting to meet his eyes. “I must ask your forgiveness that I have made you so uncomfortable. It is a grave error that I would bring harm to such a new friendship.”

“It’s no trouble, your Highness. I just… haven’t been in town… for a long time.” Patton continued to resolutely avoid him.

Damn. Virgil was going to kill him if he screwed this up...

“Well… then…” Roman grasped for something to say, “We should explore together! If you would be interested?”

The fairy’s small smile seemed to turn genuine, and he quietly responded, “Of course, Your Highness.”

“Just Roman is fine.” He said as he stood, and they were off once more. Roman felt himself bouncing around the market, keeping one hand in Patton’s at all times. It took time, and a fair bit of needling, but the half-fairy finally seemed to be warming up. Once or twice the shorter man seemed to be almost hiding behind Roman, but he had a smile on his face nonetheless. Roman watched the half-fairy investigate tables outside, swinging their conjoined hands lightly.

A little time in the sunshine could do well after all.

Patton opened up little by little, occasionally leaning in for a closer look at one of the trinkets, and Roman was simply enjoying watching Patton. There was a special kind of wonder on his face, like he was enchanted by every new object. Roman had seen so much of it before, and really, he knew by now that at least half of the items of ‘value’ would be fake; but Patton acted like it was his first time seeing so much of it.

Roman offered, several times, to purchase an item that the half-fairy would pick up, but each time the other resolutely refused. He just wanted to look, really, no need to spend any money on excess.

After a few times, it went from adorably demure to pulling on Roman’s heart, just a bit.

Roman took it upon himself to very discreetly purchase a handful of trinkets. It wouldn’t do to leave one of his comrades unspoiled. A bead bracelet here, a soft stuffed toy there. Trifles really.

Finally, it was getting late, and Patton seemed tired without wanting to admit it. And Roman was almost ready to leave, really, he was, when he saw the little tailor shop at the end of the street.

Perfect.

“Most excellent!” Roman said, half under his breath. Patton pulled his hand back from some delicate-looking glass sun catchers and looked back up at Roman.

“Has something caught your eye, your Highness?” he asked softly. Roman smiled down at him, and squeezed his hand gently. The prince nodded towards the little shop.

“I love to investigate local tailoring when we stop in towns like this.” he admitted, genuine. “It’s such a lovely form of craftsmanship. And!” his smile brightened further, “Nothing makes you feel more like a new man, than a new wardrobe!”

Roman couldn't help it, he was bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet once more. They had yet to retrieve any of Patton’s clothing or possessions, outside of what had been sent the first day, and from the way the fairy had talked about it, he didn’t have much to collect anyway. His bandages were tight enough against his back that he would have little trouble trying on anything. This could be the perfect way for Roman to give Patton a little of his own freedom.

The fairy made that hesitant smile again, one half quirked up as if unsure. But when Roman asked if Patton would feel comfortable to enter, he only paused a moment before agreeing.

-------

Patton wasn’t unfamiliar with the town at large, he just hadn’t spent a lot of time wandering. His Grace had been very strict about his schedules, and that applied to almost everything Patton had done in the last twelve years. Running errands in town were quick and direct; everything from payments to collections had been arranged in advance. The fairy need only walk down, collect whatever package or basket that needed to be brought back, and return to the manor. Even in his free time, there was little reason for Patton to visit. He had almost no money to spend, and the town tended to look down on him in general as the wild, uncontrolled half-fairy that Marquis Wardenthall had taken in.

His Grace had no small hand in spreading those rumors, of course, but that was beside the point.

Still, as they walked, Patton couldn’t help but appreciate the firm grip that His Highness kept on his left hand. He felt grounded, surprisingly safe, standing next to the Prince. And most of the villagers running their market tables chose to ignore Patton entirely in favor of wooing the Prince into buying their baubles.

Patton only found himself hiding from a glare twice, and thankfully, Roman didn’t seem to notice.

The fact that their hands were joined seemed to also put the market at large at ease, and as the time wore on, Patton found himself honestly investigating some of the trinkets that lined the tables.

There were fresh fruits from all around the region, carefully wrought jewelry, children's toys, and leather crafts. Some stalls offered weapons, others fine liquors. There was so much to take in on such a busy day, and Patton could feel little thrills of delight at doing just that.

Their town wasn’t poor by any stretch, thanks to the Marquis, but Patton hadn’t realized just the extent of all the products people could produce.

There were a handful of times that Patton caught the eye of a shopkeeper, and when he didn’t see scorn on their faces, he reached to bring something closer.

Several of those items were stuffed children’s toys, but Patton couldn’t help it. He loved fluffy, comforting things. And the little frog and raccoon toys were just so cute.

Patton felt a truly wide smile on his face for the first time in a long time, and the Prince seemed to be equally enjoying the excursion. So when they reached the end of the market square, Patton felt that, over all, he had had a really wonderful day. Pun intended.

However, he was tired. This was the longest Patton had been out since being pulled from the stockade; almost three hours now in their wanderings. He was doing his best not to lean on the Prince and risk dragging him down, but it was hard. Patton was busying himself running very careful fingers over stained glass sun catchers when he heard the Prince’s softly spoken,

“Most excellent!”

Patton looked up with an honest, if soft, smile, seeing bright excitement on the Prince’s face. “Has something caught your eye, your Highness?” he asked.

His Highness squeezed his hand, and Patton’s heart hummed a little with the niceness of it; something he really couldn't explain. He almost missed what the Prince was saying, just reveling in the feeling, only catching the end, “Nothing makes you feel more like a new man, than a new wardrobe!”

The buzz was gone.

Patton tried to keep his smile, but it turned a little more cautious. The tailor’s shop. His Highness wanted to investigate the tailor’s shop. And from the way he seemed to be bouncing with anticipation, the Prince would likely be devastated if Patton said no.

Well. He’d had worse audiences when collecting things from the tailors’. Perhaps he could even admire the Prince as he tried on new garments. So, when he asked if Patton would mind the last stop, it only took a moment for the fairy to steel his nerves before agreeing.

The little bell above the door rang merrily as His Highness, ever the gentleman, opened it for Patton. Safe, mostly, within the shop, Patton felt comfortable enough to drop the Prince’s hand for a while. The tailor’s wife, Miss Martha, wandered out to greet them, and she seemed almost excited to see Patton.

“Ah, hello dear!” she said kindly, looking under the counter for a package that Patton knew wouldn’t be there. “I hadn’t seen an order come in, I’m afraid you’ll have to take my apologies to your master.”

Patton flinched, just barely, and stuttered under the Prince’s now darkened gaze. “N—no, miss, there’s no order. I—I’m just,” he was at a loss for words all of a sudden, and vaguely gestured to Roman with a little bow of his head and a step back. He’d done it dozens of times for other guests of the Marquis. Why was it difficult now?

Miss Martha brightened once more, giving a little curtsey as the Prince introduced himself.

“Roman Kenrick, at your service.” He was standing taller now, his arms back and confidence in his face.

Kenrick. The royal family’s name. It took all of three seconds for Miss Martha to realize, wander from behind the counter, and formally curtsey before the Prince, chattering about what an honor it must be for the Marquis to be hosting one of the royal family. Patton let it sort of wash over him, in perfect servant’s position.

It wouldn’t do to sully His Highness’ reputation, after all. Even in a little town like this.

Patton could hear his heartbeat in his ears, speeding up just a little, before he realized he was being spoken to.

His eyes flicked up to the Prince’s, and he felt a light flush on his cheeks as he asked, “Sorry?”

His Highness’s gaze was much softer on Patton, and he repeated himself. “Would you like to look around?” he asked softly, almost so Miss Martha couldn’t hear. Patton looked around the little shop with his eyes, wondering what he was supposed to be looking for.

“Um?” Patton felt so suddenly unsure; what did His Highness want?

And yet, the Prince’s face stayed soft, and he offered his hand to Patton once more, and holding hands with the Prince felt so safe, that Patton was able to take a deeper breath, and look into his eyes without being afraid of not knowing.

“I don’t understand what you want.” He admitted quietly, and His Highness’ eyes brightened, just a little.

“I want to purchase some traveling clothes for you,” Roman answered, and continued before Patton could explain that it really wasn’t necessary, “I want you to have something nice. Just one, even. Because you deserve to feel a little spoiled.”

His face turned almost mischievous for a moment. “I am a Prince, after all. Those in my company should be dressed to feel that honor.”

Patton didn’t quite understand the logic in that, but the Prince was pulling him just a little closer by their conjoined hands, and Miss Martha was still standing there, watching over His Highness's shoulders, and there was a little mix of peer-pressure and pride that bubbled up within his chest as he nodded his assent.

The tailor already had his measurements on record, so anything he found could be altered if needed, and he could avoid the awkward and obnoxiously long process of being sized up. Still, Patton didn’t let go of the Prince’s hand as they wandered the little shop, looking over already-made garments hanging from ornate stands. The fairy outright refused to have anything made custom; it would be far too expensive, and take too much time, and Patton didn’t want to delay the Prince’s travels any longer than he already had.

Still, it felt strange, wandering the racks. Everything here was of stronger materials, wools and linens and leather cord. The stitching was careful and strong. The shop catered to more of the upper ring of the village than Patton technically belonged to. He found himself, several times, reaching out to feel the fabric of an item, only to quickly look to the Prince for approval.

In the end, Patton agreed to one change of clothes. A pair of sturdy pants that would befit someone who planned to wear them to the limit and do a lot of walking, and an (incredibly soft) linen shirt colored a pale blue like the sky, or robin’s eggs. The color itself was so different from the rest of his wardrobe; but even looking at it as Miss Martha carefully folded it and slipped it into a bag, Patton thought he might never want to take it off.

It was at the back of the shop that Patton found his true downfall.

The Prince was at the counter, paying for the garments as he insisted upon doing, while Patton wandered among the accessories. Things made for much more wealthy men; someone closer to Logan’s or His Highness’s status than his own. Still, it was fun to look at some of them; Lords’ and Ladies’ gloves in all kinds of colors, vests with patterns woven right into the fabric, and more hats than Patton thought he had ever seen in town.

But there was a stand at the back that drew Patton’s attention the most. There was a strangely made cape of some sort, one that would sit over the collarbone and shoulders, and had a loop on one side for the left arm, while the flowing half-cape hung off the right. Fine ribbons laced up the little collar piece all the way to the throat. It was colored gray, technically, but the fabric had the same shine that Logan’s shirt had, giving the garment the look of liquid silver.

Patton had never been one for long capes, but this was somehow new. Beautiful.

The fairy was so lost just looking at it that he failed to hear the Prince coming up behind him, and he jumped with a squeak at the feeling of the Prince’s hand on his shoulder.

His Highness did him the honor of not acknowledging this, or the scarlet blush that followed, instead giving his full attention to the accessory.

“That would look fantastic on you.” His Highness said, feeling the soft material and inspecting the ribbon clasps. Patton spluttered a little, not quite certain how to respond. At his hesitation, the Prince looked back at Patton and continued, “No, really. It would go beautifully with your eyes.”

Miss Martha came over to assist in pulling the half-cape down from its display, and Patton felt himself tremble, just a little, as the Prince gently draped the collar over his shoulders and tied it securely. That oil on water feeling of the fabric flowed down his entire left arm, and the fairy could do little more than stare at it, feeling the edge of the cape with this forefinger and thumb.

[Image ID: Patton Sanders, as a three-quarters image, with a warm smile and light pink blush on his face. He is looking down at himself in wonder, and wearing a pale blue shirt with minimal swirling embroidery on the cuffs and down the front. A silver-grey half-cape is draped over his left shoulder and down his arm. His ears have small points to indicate that he is half fairy. End image ID]

Without Patton really realizing it, the Prince had paid for this garment as well, and taken Patton’s hand and led him from the shop. Their hands stayed clasped as they walked back to the inn, the Prince enjoying the gentle breeze and the sunset around them, and Patton enjoying His Highness’s relaxed, beautiful face.

All too soon they had returned to the Prince’s room, only to find Virgil in a spluttering panic. The mage gave Patton a soft kiss on his forehead, complimented the new cape, and said he would meet Patton in his room so they could have dinner together.

And then he took the Prince by the ear, and dragged him into their shared room.

Patton couldn’t stop the giggle that bubbled up while watching them.

-----

Chapter Five

#warcats writes #tssbb2022 #ts fic #sanders sides fic #fantasy au #Long Road Home #royality #tw references to trauma #tw reference to abuse #tw behavior trigger #ts patton #ts roman

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i-will-physically-fight-you · 4 years

Text

Till The Sun Is in the Sky Fanfic

Title: Till The Sun is in the Sky Fanfic

Summary: Roman is a genie who has granted wishes for over a millennia. The only reason he’d be eager to serve his next master is for a chance to briefly escape the lamp’s darkness. Not for a chance at freedom--for that’s just wishful thinking and he knows what that all entails.

Or at least that’s his assumption until he meets Patton, the newest master of his lamp.

Pairing: platonic royality

Word-Count: 3.9k

Warnings: Crying, Fear, Hurt/Comfort, Angst with a Happy Ending

This set in the same ‘verse as When the Blazing Sun Is Gone but you don’t need to read that fic to understand this one. @delimeful requested seeing Roman’s/Logan’s role in the AU as part of my follower milestone celebration and so I went with Roman. Also huge thanks to @stillebesat who beta-read two different drafts of this fic and offered valuable input, I appreciate it! <3

He didn't know how long it had been since his last Master had thrown the lamp into the sea. It didn't matter really. Minutes, years, centuries...it didn't. Because he knew his next master would be the same as the last six hundred. Selfish, full of empty promises of freedom that never came to pass.

No, the only reason why he would ever be eager to come out of the lamp to serve his six hundredth and one master would be for those precious moments to get out of the darkness.

Some of his more inquisitive masters would ask him what it felt like to have one’s soul crammed into a lamp.

He always laughed it off and made a joke about how it made for a great napping place.

But the truth was far from it. He knew it was silly, but he feared the darkness. He feared its loneliness, feared no one would ever find his lamp again and he’d be stuck there forever.

He never told them how many times he uselessly fought against the magic barriers, hoping beyond hope to find a defect in the spell that bound him there. He didn’t tell them how much he feared them being the last master he ever had—not because they freed him but because his lamp never found another master to serve. Worse yet, his lamp shattering.

His soul was bound to the lamp and if it broke--then his soul would split into a thousand pieces along with it. Suffice to say, it was not a happy fate and not something happy to dwell on.

So he sang instead. His voice filling up the lamp, bouncing all around him. He could pretend someone was with him, that way, singing alongside him. He sang the few songs he knew and then some. He made up songs, even, about anything his mind could dwell on. He was halfway through singing about a gallant knight when a pair of hands made contact with the lamp.

A new master; both relief and trepidation hit him at once. Relief that he’d be free from the darkness once more. Trepidation in knowing that it was only a fleeting temporary respite from it.

That was quite alright. After all, his new master was probably someone in great need of his assistance—they always were. The lamp magic sought out those who were plagued by horrible life circumstances. He would be the knight in shining armor to them, like he’d been to many others before.

For that was his true purpose in life and not freedom. That was just wishful thinking—and he knew all of what that entailed.

With a shroud of red mist, he rose up in front of his new master. All of which was entirely for the sheer dramatics of it. He enjoyed putting on a good show and the adrenaline that came along with it.

“Greetings!” He boomed, waving his arms around in a grand gesture, “I am a great and powerful genie—and I am here to make all your dreams come true!”

The human gawked at him, slack-jawed. His brown eyes bulged from behind his glasses, much like a cartoon character. There was a crack in one of the glasses’ lenses and upon closer look, the glasses appeared to be practically held together by tape.

The man’s clothing appeared to be in a similar disheveled state—unraveling hems, holes in his shoes, scuff marks. The cardigan tied around his neck looked hardly wearable. Lying at the man’s feet was a blue backpack that the genie wouldn’t doubt contained all of his worldly belongings.

The lamp sought out the unfortunate and if there was one constant in any century, it was poverty.

“You’re…really a genie?” The human asked, pressing his eyebrows together.

“In the flesh.” The Genie winked.

He was well aware of what a fine specimen he was to behold. Flowing locks of russet hair, eyes that glimmered like emeralds, a voluptuous figure. Clothed in only the finest cloth that the eleventh century had to offer. Centuries of existence in the lamp had not diminished his beauty in the slightest.

If there was one thing he could take pleasure in, it was the awe humans gave him before they decided demanding for wishes. It usually lasted for only about five seconds. But during those five seconds, he could pretend that they were actually ecstatic to see him.

“What’s your name?”

He startled at those words.

“Pardon?” He asked, tilting his head backwards.

The last thing the Genie had been expecting, was those words to come out of his mouth. No one ever bothered to ask for his name. It was as though they assumed their wish-granting cosmic vending machine had no name. Or was indeed a living being with thoughts and feelings for that matter. They always started demanding rules and stipulations for their wishes as fast as they could.

“I’m sorry!” The human cried, wringing his hands together, “that was rude of me to ask without introducing myself first.”

He held out a hand, beaming, “I’m Patton! What’s your name?”

“I…” He stared down at the man’s hand, “My name?”

“Oh,” Patton’s eyes widened, “do you not have a name?”

The Genie looked away. He did once have a name, long ago before he inhabited the lamp. He couldn’t remember it. A strained, lilted laugh broke from his lips, not assuaging Patton’s concerns in the slightest.

How could he forget his own name? Names were important—special. Names had power. Names were a person’s identity. How could he let that damn lamp take something so precious away from him? It’d already taken everything else away—what more could it take?

“I can’t seem to recall it,” He shook his head, before desperately trying to change the subject, “But enough about my fabulous self! I’m here to grant you not one, not two, but three! Three wishes of immeasurable power! Say the magic word, and I’ll spin your dreams into reality.”

He expected Patton to forget the name nonsense entirely at the mention of wishes. Surely, the man had unfulfilled desires—everyone always possessed those. Instead, the man slowly shook his head.

“I can help you find a new name, if you’d like.” He offered, a smile softly framing his face.

The Genie blinked, “You wish to give me a new name?”

He could not make heads nor tails of this strange human. He scarcely knew Patton for a single minute, but his aura oozed nothing but positivity. Still, it was an odd waste of a wish, if you asked him. He’d hate to see someone so good and in need of his cosmic help squander a wish like that.

“No,” Patton said, laughing, “I want to help you find a new name.”

Patton sat down on the beach, the lamp by his side. The human looked up at him and patted the space next to him. Reluctantly, the Genie joined him.

“How does the name Daniel sound to you?” Patton asked.

Daniel. One of his more unpleasant masters went by that name. The genie made a face before shaking his head.

“That’s okay! What about Philip then?”

“Phiiiilip…” He drew out the consonants, testing how they felt against the roof of his mouth, “What do you think, dear Patton? Do I look like a Philip to you?”

“Well, you’re very princely-looking, and I’d say Philip is a very princely name!” The man giggled, “but as long as you love it—I’ll love it as well!”

The Genie hesitated. As much as he liked the name—it didn’t quite scream him. It didn’t encompass his whole being. Philip felt as tight and constraining as his lamp. The genie could lie and tell Patton he liked it just to move on from this whole naming business. His purpose here was supposed to be focused on the wish-bearer and not him, the wish-granter.

However, as he looked upon Patton’s earnest gaze he found himself unable to lie to him.

“I am afraid that I’m not entirely in love with the idea of Philip.” He admittedly with a great sigh.

“That’s alright! We just gotta keep trying then!” Patton declared, undeterred.

He continued listing off names, but none of them seemed to satisfy the Genie. The latter of whom grew despondent that they’d never find the perfect name. There were millions of names in the world, yet none of them appealed to him. He voiced this to Patton, who refused to give up hope that easily and urged him to keep trying.

“Hmm…oh! What about Roman?” Patton asked, “I knew a guy back in high school named Roman. He did theatre.”

Something sparked within the hollow cavity of the Genie’s chest.

“Theatre? As in acting out a story in front of an audience?” The Genie asked, his eyes lit bright with wonder.

He’d never seen a play before. His masters never bothered taking him to events like that. Instead he’d remain in their household, his lamp sitting on a shelf or hidden in a cabinet. Like a jar of quarters to use on a rainy day. He could only manifest within twenty-five yards around his lamp, leaving him unable to sneak off and enjoy something like a theatre show.

But what little he heard of them reminded him greatly of the bards of his time. They used to travel all over, singing sweetly in poetic verse of great heroes and terrifying monsters. He’d always loved watching a bard perform. He almost ran off and became a bard himself before he ended up stuck inside the lamp.

“Yup! He played Lumiere in our production of Beauty and the Beast.”

The names of the character and story were unfamiliar to him. But the Genie could tell by Patton’s phrasing that it had been an important role.

“Roo-man,” He tried, liking how it sounded on his lips, “Roman, Roman, Romaaaaaaaaaaan!”

Patton giggled as the Genie held out the name for as long as he could.

Roman. It was bold, it was brash, it was perfect. Not too snug, not too loose—it fit him just right.

“Well then,” He said, clearing his throat, “I’d be honored to go by the name of such a great bard!”

“I’m happy to hear that!” Patton beamed, “We should go celebrate!”

The human stood up, stuffing the lamp into his backpack in the process. He offered a hand towards the Genie—or rather Roman.

“Celebrate?” Roman questioned, as he accepted Patton’s hand, “Don’t you want your three wishes—"

“That can wait for later,” Patton said as he pulled Roman onto his feet with ease, “what’s important right now is celebrating your new name—with ice cream! I know just the place!”

“Forgive me for asking, but what is ice cream?”

“You don’t know what ice cream is?” Patton gasped, a determined look settling onto his features, “we’ll definitely have to fix that!”

He took hold of Roman’s hand—and marched towards the direction of the ice cream stand. Roman, bemused by the human, laughed as he allowed himself to be tugged along by Patton. He didn’t know why Patton was so concerned about his wellbeing but he found it a nice change from the norm.

Patton chattered along the way, mainly about ice cream and puns relating to the icy dessert and to other things.

“What did the popsicle say to his sonsicle in a crowd?” Patton asked, already snickering at his own joke.

“What?”

“He said, stick with me kid!” Patton burst into a fit of giggles, and Roman followed suit. Admittedly a lot of the contextual humor of Patton’s puns were lost on him but there was something contagious about Patton’s cheery disposition. You couldn’t help but want to laugh along and feel about a bit of that happiness glow in your lungs.

For those brief seconds of laughter, Roman felt human again. He’d have to treasure this feeling--coveting it once he inevitably ended up in the darkness of the lamp once more.

The sun set in the horizon as they reached their destination; a brilliant splash of crimson red with streaks of golden orange and lilac purple. There were a few customers already in line at the ice cream stand. Cheery music blared. Where, Roman had no clue. He could not see a band nearby. Perhaps it was magic?

“Hey um,” Patton said, ducking his head a bit, “mind if we split a bowl? I’ll let you pick out the flavor. You should go with vanilla—it’s a classic! But, uh you can get whatever you’d like!”

“Patton…” Roman frowned, “I could wish into existence a whole ice cream shop of your own if you truly wanted it. You don’t have to waste money on me.”

“No, I don’t have to,” Patton said with a determined glint in his eyes, “But I want to.”

Roman gawked at him, stunned. What was this human? People normally expected genies to do things for them, not the other way around! When it came time to order, Roman merely pointed to the vanilla as Patton had suggested.

There were tables set up next to the ice cream stand where customers could consume their ice cream. But Patton shook his head, telling Roman he knew a much better place.

“It’s a place my friend Virgil and I like to visit,” Patton said, “It’s nice and quiet, unlike most of the city. The noise can be too much sometimes, y’know?”

This peaceful location happened to be a bench in the middle of a park. Trees gracefully arched over it, dressed in the beginnings of autumn colors. Orange, yellow, red. A warm glowing yellow light emanated from the lamppost beside the bench.

“You can have the first taste of the ice cream,” Patton told him as they settled onto the bench. Roman obliged him, dipping his spoon a little in the white substance and bringing it to his mouth. He blinked. It was colder than he expected. But not unpleasantly so. It was a smooth, sweet texture.

“What do you think?” Patton asked, practically bouncing in his seat.

“It’s--it’s absolutely divine!” Roman exclaimed, his eyes flickered down to the ice cream, “May I…?”

“Of course!” Patton grinned. Roman took another spoonful, savoring the taste longer this time. They took turns finishing it off as they continued to converse.

Roman wasn’t used to talking. Sure, he talked plenty over the centuries, but his conversations with his masters revolved strictly around wish-granting. Mundane conversations about the weather were anything but mundane to the genie.

“What’s your favorite animal?” Patton asked, swinging his legs back and forth in a careless manner.

“Dogs—they are lovable, loyal creatures and mankind is undeserving of their affections.” Roman declared.

“Dogs are my favorite too!” Patton giggled, “Oh! And so are cats, horses, lizards, lions and tigers and bears—oh my! Elephants, giraffes, hippos—”

“So all of them are your favorite, I take it?”

“I guess you could say that,” Patton sheepishly grinned, “I wanted to be a veterinarian be—before—”

The human inhaled shakily, the smile slipping off his face. Instead of continuing, he stared down into the mostly empty plastic ice cream bowl. Something obviously happened in Patton’s past that upset him. It wasn’t Roman’s place to pry—but it didn’t mean he couldn’t help in the only way he knew best; magic. In all his centuries as a genie, he’s never met anyone deserving of it than Patton.

The man had been the first in a long while to treat Roman like his thoughts and feelings actually mattered. Like the genie was actually...human.

“You could still be a veterinarian, if you so badly wished,” Roman spoke softly, “Your every wish is my command.”

Patton flinched, looking more distressed than comforted by Roman’s words.

“Roman please, I can’t do that—”

“Why not?” Roman said, “you are my master—you can make any wish you’ve ever desired.”

“Roman, I’m not your master.” Patton choked.

“Of course you are,” Roman tilted his head, “you are the keeper of my lamp. What else would you be?”

“A friend?” Patton suggested, “Roman, please I don’t want to force you to do anything you don’t want to do.”

“This is different,” Roman said fervently, grasping hold of Patton’s hands, “this I offer to you freely for you are the most worthy keeper of my lamp. You must have unfulfilled desires, something, anything I can grant.”

Patton stared at Roman, his face void of expression. Several times he opened his mouth before abruptly closing it. As if thinking better of what he was about to say.

“Please.” Roman pressed further.

His heart rattled against his chest, wanting badly to escape its cage as he did with his lamp. Like the latter, it was a pointless venture. As long as his lamp remained intact so would his soul. Unless of course it shattered, and with it his soul into a thousand pieces. His psyche splintered and fractured, too broken to put back together again. Like Humpty Dumpty except worse for it was a living death, one inescapable. Yet it was a fate that was inevitable and also something he shouldn’t be dwelling on at the moment.

“There is…” Patton hesitated, “one desire I have.”

“Say it,” Roman said as he bowed his head, not daring to look at the human, “Speak it into existence and it shall be yours.”

It was going to hurt, he knew this. The genie wasn’t the true wish-granter, all the magic they possessed came from the lamp itself. The magic only used his form as a mere conduit. Because that was all a genie was—a damn puppet to his masters’ wills.

Roman brought this curse upon himself—he wanted immeasurable power and he attained it. Except, it was never his will to wield such power. Nay, only his masters possessed it. Only their wishes and not his would be granted. It’d be this way forever and ever, because everyone always cared about their happy endings and not his own.

Even Patton, once he saw the immeasurable power that surged forth from even the simplest of wishes. Roman wouldn’t blame him for it. The human has already given him more than what he’s ever deserved.

Patton squeezed Roman’s hands. It took every ounce of Roman’s willpower not to sneak a glance up at him. He had to remain strong for whatever wish Patton threw at him. In the short time he’d spent with Patton, he didn’t get off the vibe of a frivolous wisher. He dealt with plenty of those over the years. Ones who used the wishes in willy-nilly ways, without any forethought behind them.

No, he’d probably be practical. He’d wish for money, or perhaps a mistake in the past to be reversed. Those were always tricky ones. They didn’t always end in the way humans believed they would.

“Roman,” Patton began, “I wish to free you, the genie, from your lamp.”

The genie leapt off the bench as if electrocuted, hands clumsily detangling themselves from Patton’s own. The lamp’s magic roared in his ears, swelling inside him like a great storm. He gaped at the human, his heart bursting out of his chest and into his throat.

“P-patton, mind repeating that?” He gasped.

“I wish to free you the genie from your lamp.” Patton said once more, his voice firm and unbreaking.

This time he couldn’t hold off the wish. A bright red light enveloped him like a supernova explosion. Magic consumed him, rippling through every fiber of his being. A warmth fell across him, one that he hadn’t felt in a long, long while. A great shattering noise occurred. The light died down as he looked to see the lamp had spilled out of Patton’s pack, glittering underneath the lamppost, in pieces.

Breath heaving, he fell to his knees, touching the pieces. The lamp had broken and he was still here, whole and complete and free.

“Why?” He stared down at the broken lamp, quivering, “I--I don’t understand. You had three wishes. You could’ve had so much—all the wealth and fame you could ever desire!”

“But I didn’t want that,” Patton protested, resting a hand on Roman’s shoulder, “not if it came from a wish you were involuntarily bound to serve no matter what. That isn’t fair. Everyone deserves the freedom of choice. Including you.”

Roman laughed. Except it wasn’t quite a laugh. More of a strangled, gargled croak than anything else. He pressed his hands into his face, shutting his eyes as he tried to block out the dizzying nausea sweeping through him.

After six-hundred masters and a millennia inside the lamp, Roman knew a lot about the freedom of choice. His masters employed it with how they chose to use his wishes. Flaunting it so arrogantly in his face. The wishes were self-serving for most. Sometimes they used it to better others’ situations. But never his own, despite many promising to free him. Because at the end of that third wish, they’d walk away while he’d once more get trapped inside the lamp.

Over and over again, they chose to not free him. Except Patton. He chose to free Roman on his very first wish. For as long as he’d dreamt of this moment, of being free from the lamp, he never expected it to actually happen. It was just a foolish fantasy, too abstract to become reality. Not to mention in this manner. He had imagined a master would free him after he’d proven himself worthy with a great feat of magic. How could Patton think he was deserving of this gift?

He laughed weirdly again. This time it hurt his vocal chords.

“Roman?” Patton asked.

He responded with a noise, halfway resembling a hiccup and a shriek. A gentle set of arms enveloped him, pulling him closer until his forehead rested against a warm chest. A hug? Was Patton hugging him?

“It’s okay, kiddo,” Patton murmured, ruffling a hand through his hair, “let it all out.”

Kiddo. Roman wanted to snort. He was a millennia older than Patton, he wasn’t exactly a child. Except at those words, he bawled like one as he realized that those were sobs from before. Not laughter. Roman couldn’t remember the last time he cried. Just like he couldn’t remember a time before being a genie.

Who was he, without the lamp? For as much as he hated it, it’d been a part of him. It defined him and the purpose of his existence. Now he was free of it, free to be his own person, with his own wishes and desires. But he didn’t know the first step of what that looked like.

It was like he was thrown into a raging ocean of confusion and turmoil. Treading aimlessly, desperately hoping for a piece of driftwood to grab a hold on. Something that could anchor him, keep him afloat.

“P-patton--” He whispers, voice hoarse from crying, “can I--can I choose to be your friend?”

The human had suggested it earlier. Surely, he meant it still? It was quiet for a few seconds. Enough to cause Roman to doubt himself. But then the man who unbelievably granted him his freedom hugged him tighter.

“Of course, Roman,” Patton told him, “I’d be honored.”

With a sniffle, Roman’s hands fell from his face as he threw his arms around Patton to fiercely return the embrace. A few more ugly sobs wracked his throat. How was it that Patton was the one honored to be his friend when it was the opposite?

Roman hardly knew what being free looked like. But he did know he’d do anything to protect Patton, to preserve this kind, selfless spark that rested in the human’s soul.

As he dwelt encircled by Patton’s loving arms, the last slivers of the sun’s glow faded at last, dousing them in darkness. But for once, he didn’t find himself afraid of it.

#thomas sanders #sanders sides #patton sanders #roman sanders #kat writes #i tried to get virgil in this fic #but pls dont imagine vampire virge getting both jealous and concerned that patton is replacing him #or that roman (not wanting to lose his new friend) accuses him being a monster and sees him as a threat to patton #and poor patton being in the middle of it #:))))

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delimeful · 3 years

Text

mere monstrosity (1)

warnings: spiders, misunderstandings, captivity

Logan woke up to the familiar soft chime of his alarm, and rolled out of bed bleary-eyed but ready to get the day started. He kept quiet as he crept out of the room.

He didn’t bother grabbing his glasses, knowing that they’d only be of use after his shower. His feet knew the way from his bedroom to the bathroom by heart, and he preferred to shower in the dark to avoid the likelihood of getting one of his light-sensitivity migraines, so he didn’t reach for the lightswitch either.

Instead, he pushed quietly past the half-open door and fumbled for the shower knob, cranking it up to exactly the point before it turned scalding.

The water flickered on a moment later, and amidst the clamor of droplets against ceramic, he heard an indistinct, high-pitched noise, like a chirp or squeak.

“A mouse?” he muttered to himself, squinting at the dark, blurry interior of the shower.

He couldn’t hear anything else over the spray, so he quickly turned the shower off and stepped back to flick the lightswitch on, potential headaches be damned.

He pulled the shower curtain fully to the side, and blinked at the sight of a blurry black splotch in the corner of his bathtub. Leaning in a little further, he could briefly make out individual legs, long and numerous, before they were pulled closer and blended in with the rest of the shape.

“You are… a considerably large spider,” he informed it, grateful that it was him and not Patton who had found it. The resulting terrified shriek would have woken him and Janus, and probably most of the neighbors for that matter. “Are you a tarantula? Are tarantulas even native to this area?”

The spider, rather predictably, didn’t respond, and Logan recalled that he’d just doused the poor thing with jets of cold water. It was probably curling all its limbs in a mock death-curl, trying to process the unexpected threat to its breathing and body temperature.

He reached over to the counter and carefully removed the collection of multicolored toothbrushes from the plastic cup next to their sink, tapping it against the side of the counter to clear out any remaining dust.

“Try to stay still, alright?” he coaxed in a low voice, crouching and leaning over the tub to get a better angle. “I don’t want to catch any of your limbs, just keep them all tucked in close like that and I’ll get you out of there.”

To his surprise, the spider really didn’t make any sudden moves, remaining frozen as he settled the cup over it. The only reason he was sure it was still alive was the tiny motion of its front legs, two little investigative nudges against the edge of the cup.

“Excellent job,” he praised, his curiosity only growing. Most of the spiders he had cupped would immediately run at the glass with arms lifted in threat, or run in frantic circles along the edges seeking an escape. Of course, none of them had been this large. Most wild tarantulas were hunters, though, not spinners. Aggression would serve them well, so why was this one so docile? Was it an escaped pet? Had the cold water been that shocking?

He quickly retrieved a folder from the living room, returning to find that the plastic cup had shifted a couple of inches. It was large enough to push it, then.

“Just a little bit more,” he continued to soothe, carefully sliding the folder under the cup bit by bit, allowing the spider time to shift its legs onto the folder so the tips wouldn’t be pinched. He then carefully lifted the whole ensemble up, keeping a cautious hand on top of the cup. “There we go.”

The kitchen was dimly lit, the small light under the microwave still on so that anyone getting water in the middle of the night wouldn’t trip or run into anything in the dark. Logan glanced at the front door for a long moment, and then gave in to the urge to investigate his catch a bit closer. It would be irresponsible to just release a domesticated tarantula into the wild, after all.

He set the cup and folder down carefully on the counter, and then placed a heavy ceramic plate on top of the cup, reasoning that it was better to make sure the spider wouldn’t push the cup-- and itself-- right off the counter.

“One moment.” That done, he went into his room to retrieve his glasses, leaving the light off so as to not wake up Janus, who had only gotten in from his night shift a few hours ago. His roommate normally slept heavily once he managed to get to sleep, so Logan didn’t have to worry about waking him by climbing out of their shared bed, but better not to risk turning the lights on in the first place.

The world came into a much clearer focus once he’d pushed his glasses into their proper place atop his nose, and with his vision improved, he had no problems finding the hall closet and rummaging through it for one of Janus’s old terrariums.

He set the glass case down on the kitchen counter without any furnishings inside-- he was only planning to get a good look at the specimen, after all-- and flicked on the kitchen light before carefully moving the trapped spider into the terrarium and then lifting the cup away.

The spider frantically scuttled back, smacking thorax-first into the glass wall of the terrarium, and Logan frowned contemplatively at the sight of it.

It was certainly a tarantula, one that he’d probably be able to find online fairly easily with the distinctive white stripes along it’s eight fuzzy legs. Concerningly enough, there was an odd swelling protrusion on the anterior part of the body. It was a similar dark shade to the rest of the body, but almost larger than the thorax, and it blocked off any sight of the pedipalps, fangs, or eyes.

The texture didn’t seem to match the carapace… Perhaps it was a piece of garbage or organic waste that had gotten stuck on the creature? If it hindered movement, that could explain why it had been so still earlier.

It wasn’t still now, exhibiting an odd vibrating throughout its body that Logan had never witnessed from a spider before. He would certainly be doing some research into arthropods after this.

Well, at the very least, he could see if that protruding material would come loose.

Logan carefully pulled on one of Janus’s thick leather gloves, one of the more worn sets in case the spider had urticating hairs, and then reached down. The spider seemed to spot his shadow, going by the way it stiffened, and he reminded himself that though he didn’t know the species and many tarantulas were venomous, it was incredibly unlikely their venom would be able to do more than hurt him.

Confidence restored, he continued reaching down until his fingers met the odd lump, at which point a low, guttural hiss sounded, and the spider threw its front legs up and lunged, slapping its limbs down against the floor of the terrarium in threat.

Logan remained undeterred by the small tantrum, instead focusing on the fact that the obstruction was loose, almost like shed skin on a snake. Studying the spider carefully, he pinched it gently between two fingers, trying to discern what in the world it could possibly be.

The next three movements happened in rapid succession.

First, Logan tugged lightly at the material caught between his fingers. Second, the spider recoiled sharply, pulling away from his grip with surprising strength. And third, the covering came loose, the spider pulling free from it and leaving a limp swathe of fabric hanging from Logan’s fingers.

Below him, now uncovered, there was pale skin, a mop of bedraggled hair, and a tiny, terrified human face.

Logan froze, staring down at it-- them with wide eyes.

The being he’d mistaken for a spider was actually a drider, a creature of myth that was apparently all too real. Logan couldn’t help how stunned he felt. Even apart from the shock of the discovery, there was the shock of their size. Driders were said to have a human-sized spider half, not the other way around!

Below, the drider was still frozen in place, staring right back up at him. He could see the way their little chest was heaving with quick, panicked breaths, could feel the way the tiny makeshift poncho in his hand was sodden and cold, and he felt guilt strike him like a ruler across knuckles.

“I-- Hold on a moment, please,” he managed, his mind racing as he stepped back, turning and hurrying out of the room.

Once again, the hall closet held exactly what he needed, and he mentally rescinded all his past complaints about the amount of extra snake care items Janus had stashed away in their storage closet like a dragon’s hoard.

The heat lamp was compact enough to fit easily in the terrarium, where the spider-person had scuttled back to press themself into the furthest corner, limbs pulled in tightly in what had to be a fear response.

Logan set the lamp carefully inside and plugged it in, sighing in relief when the bulb lit up and began to glow orange. “This lamp is designed for reptiles, not arthropods, so it may be too hot for extended use. However, it will work temporarily as a heat source to get rid of excess moisture, so I encourage you to use it.”

The drider was glaring up at him with the tiniest scowl he’d ever seen, front legs still lifted up defensively, but didn’t say a word.

“Do you speak?” Logan asked, and received only silence in return. “I suppose I should have guessed as much, seeing as you haven’t responded to any of my previous statements. Do you understand me? Do we speak the same language?”

The drider glared harder.

“I find it hard to believe that you have animal-level intelligence,” Logan continued, now mostly to himself. He lifted a hand, displaying the poncho he still held. “Although some birds can ‘sew’, construction of clothing to cover one’s form is a complex and distinctly human sentiment.”

Still, nothing. Their gaze was caught by the poncho for a moment before they looked away entirely, looking for all the world to be sulking.

Logan sighed, and then slowly moved to place the poncho next to the heat lamp, laying it out flat for easier drying. “I’m going to attend to my morning routine. It should only take me a few moments, but please feel free to call or make noise if you need my attention between now and then.”

The drider’s expression had eased into confusion at the sight of their garment laid out before them, but their legs remained warily upright as Logan left the room.

As promised, he only made a brief stop to make sure both of his roommates were still soundly asleep before climbing into the shower and preparing himself for the day, roughly fifteen minutes behind schedule.

It wasn’t too disruptive-- it had eaten into the time he normally allotted for sitting at the table and eating breakfast, so that would have to be skipped today, but it wasn’t the end of the world.

Honestly, he’d likely spend the rest of the day thinking about the surprise addition to his morning. There were so many questions he’d love to ask, but seeing as the creature had attempted to hide their existence even at risk of being perceived as a normal spider (and therefore possibly squashed), he expected he wouldn’t be receiving any answers.

Talkative or not, the drider clearly had sapient levels of intelligence, and Logan was loath to start off humanity’s relationship with a vulnerable and secretive species by keeping them trapped in a snake terrarium against their will.

Even if he was willing to weigh scientific advancement over his morals, his roommates would never allow it. Patton would naturally be terrified and possibly sympathetic when witnessing their clear terror, and he’d had enough extensive debates on ethics with Janus to know that his opinion on keeping them captive would be much the same.

So, when he returned to the kitchen and saw them toppling over and scurrying back from the heat lamp that they’d clearly been attempting to use as a makeshift ladder to freedom, Logan didn’t bother commenting, simply moving forward and looking them over.

“You seem to have mostly dried,” he stated instead, able to appreciate the subtle design work of the poncho better now that it wasn’t being used as camouflage. The drider gripped it like they thought he might take it away.

They would react fairly badly to him reaching out with his hand, and reasonably so. Logan hadn’t exactly done much except douse, capture, and then gently interrogate them. Not exactly trustworthy behavior.

He studied the terrarium for a moment before grabbing a washcloth and draping it over the side, providing an easy textured surface for the spider to climb up. There. “You are free to go.”

The surprised expression that flashed across their face was almost comical.

“I’m not sure what your purpose in the bathroom was, but I’d ask you to be more careful in the future. One of my roommates…,” Logan sighed through his nose, exasperated even imagining it. “Well, suffice to say you should avoid him at all costs.”

The tiny drider continued to stare at him, gaze occasionally flickering over to the towel with clear suspicion. It was saddening to be so distrusted, but perhaps this show of goodwill would help prove that he didn’t intend any harm? He hoped he hadn’t frightened them from the residence entirely-- he shuddered at the many, many potential dangers the creature would find outside.

“My roommates will wake later in the day, so if you intend to avoid their notice, I’d suggest leaving the enclosure as soon as I have departed for work,” he gave a little farewell wave, not reacting to the slight flinch it elicited from the little guy. “It-- well, you probably don’t share the sentiment, but still-- it was nice to meet you. Goodbye.”

Forcing himself not to turn back and get one last look, Logan hurried out the door.

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #sanders sides g/t #ts logan #ts virgil #tiny drider au #drider #mere monstrosity #mm #g/t #spiders tw #well just one but yknow #sorry for late posting i forgot it was saturday #time is fake #my writing #writing

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goodieghosty · 2 years

Text

Godsides au and it's my fave spooky emo, Virgil

The oldest of the gang, he's just always existed. He didn't have a physical form. He is Darkness. But once the universe was created he wanted to get in on that. If we wanna be technical the ingredients for the universe were already there, he just turned on the oven.

But yee, he wanted to check this new universe o u t. But he had to make a physical form from scratch, and it was p weak. He ended up being taken care of by monsters and learning from them cuz this is a w h o l e new world he needs some help. They taught him all about fear, about how humans feared them, how to use it to his advantage. Humans would call them shadow people but only because their minds couldn't comprehend what they were seeing

Technically, he's the most powerful, but only if he can get into their head and have them fear him. He's formidable.

Started out as a feral thing just going around striking fear into people because he could. Then he would meet Janus, who would convince him to help him in some wars, and this would get him to actually start thinking about w h y he wanted to scare people.

The other gods think he's gone "soft", that is not the case. He just doesn't feel the need to have every person he meets quaking in their boots anymore

Patton would help him find a greater purpose later on down the line but if you ask Virgil he'll just say "yeah I keep people from doing stupid stuff that'll get them killed."

"Virgil, how did you react when a human saw you for the first time?" "Oh, I was super small back then. Lemme think.... Ah, haaah, I ate them." "... what." "Humans taste like pork."

When he was upset back then everything would just go pitch black around him, because that's what comforted him. The shadows comforted him. Now though, it's storm clouds. Because they were the first thing he made with a friend. And he just really likes the memory

Thomas waking up in the middle of a nightmare because he can't breathe and Virgil is literally sitting on his chest like a damn cat "... what are you doing?" "Feeding off your fear." "... is this sleep paralysis?" "I dunno, maybe."

Virgil would turn into a cat whenever Thomas' friends were around and no one told Patton this and Patton fckin smothered the poor cat with so many pets and snuggles. "Uh, Pat-" "Aww, he's purring so loudly! I didn't know you had a cat!" "That's because I don't, that's Virgil." "... I know I should stop but I fear if I do I may end up mauled."

Virgil really will just sit wherever he pleases. Be that on the counter, on top of the fridge, sprawled out over someone's lap. Anywhere.

He can still do that deep voice thing and that's mighty hilarious when he does it as a cat.

He eats the most out of all of them. He doesn't need to. But when he first formed his body he did so now it feels weird to not have to. Where does it go. Who knows.

He gets so sad when he goes to high five Thomas with his bone hand and it just goes through him-but then he laughs cuz he ended up smacking Remus

Thomas "Wait so, if Virgil's Darkness, then that means there's gotta be an embodiment of Light, right?" Virgil "These guys are my light." "... awwwww-" "Wait, what-no! Shut up it wasn't meant to be sappy!"

#godsides au #sanders sides

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poisonedapples · 3 years

Text

Patton’s Home for Traumatized Kids - Chapter Three

New School and Friendships

Chapter Summary: Roman has his first day in a new district while some bonds are strengthened.

First Chapter Previous Chapter Story Masterlist

Warnings: Past abuse mentions, mentions of hidden cameras, anxiety, some bullying, crying, and food mentions

Chapter Word Count: 5,860

Taglist: @shade-romeo, @grayson-22, @pixelated-pineapple, @acrobaticcatfeline, @astrozei, @edupunkn00b, @princey-7258

“Hey, dad?”

“Yeah?” Roman’s dad turned to face him. Roman felt his whole body start to shake.

“You know how you said that…I could ask for anything from you? Since, uh- since you didn’t know what present to get me last time?”

His dad smiled in a way so normal it was disturbing. “Got an idea?”

“Yeah, uh…I want a canopy bed.”

His dad’s face dropped, and Roman could feel the anxiety and regret bloom through his chest. “You know why I can’t do that, Roman.”

“Please? I know it’s probably a bit much to replace my whole bed frame, but I could make my own canopy for cheaper! I’ve already looked at a bunch of ways online how, I just need you to buy the materials-”

“It’s a no.” Roman’s dad looked angry, and Roman would’ve done anything to run the other direction at that moment. To burst out the door and never come back. “Nice try, Roman, but I’m not stupid. Come back when you have a better idea.”

Roman blinked to fight back the tears. “…I’m sorry.”

“Go back to your room.”

Roman ran up the stairs as fast as he could, wishing more than anything that there was a lock on his door. Instead, Roman took his desk chair and propped it against the knob for some kind of security, curling into the corner of his room as he shook and tugged at his hair.

He tried to block out the knowledge of the security camera on his shelf, hidden well but not well enough, pointed right at his bed.

***

Several fast knocks came onto Roman’s bedroom door, waking him up with a jerk. He groggily pushed open the curtain in front of his head to grab his phone and look at the time. Six o’clock on the dot, it read. Ugh.

The knocking on the door didn’t stop, and Roman whined. “What?” He called out.

“Get dressed, we need to leave the house by 6:30.” He heard Logan call back.

“Fine, fine.” Roman pushed the curtains out of the way and practically rolled out of bed, grabbing the clothes he’d organized for himself the night before. He put on a pair of jeans with a white and red t-shirt, nothing fancy but fancy enough for a first day surrounded by strangers. He grabbed his backpack and put his phone and some earbuds in his pocket before heading downstairs to the kitchen.

“Morning, kiddo!” Patton chirped as he made breakfast, “Didja sleep well?”

“Yes, I did.” That was a lie. He had some strange dream where his dad was also there, and he only managed to calm down and fall back asleep an hour ago. He still couldn’t stop thinking about it, even if the dream was hazy now.

“Good to hear! Be ready by 6:30 so I can drive all of you to the school. Then once you get there, you can ask about your schedule at the office.” Patton laid down a plate of bagels with cream cheese and strawberries in front of Roman, so Roman began to eat.

Once he finished his breakfast, Roman rushed back upstairs to style his hair and brush his teeth before they had to leave. As he brushed his teeth, he stared at the shower to the left of him and sighed. He touched his hair, feeling the grease slick onto his fingers.

He really needed to shower. He hadn’t showered since he got here, and with how thick his hair was it was really starting to gross him out. He hated feeling greasy and grimy, but Roman hadn’t checked the bathroom for cameras yet and he refused to shower until he did. Though, he knew that was also just an excuse. Roman also felt too tired to take care of himself.

Just brush your teeth, he thought, they told you that if you can’t shower, at least brush your teeth. Greasy hair can be fixed, cavities are expensive.

He spit out the toothpaste into the sink and rinsed out his mouth. He grabbed some face wash and decided to use it as quickly as he could to hold back the gross feeling he felt. It would help him feel a little cleaner, at least. A little more presentable for the first day.

A loud bang came onto the door. “Roman, hurry up!” Virgil called out, “Some of us need to piss!”

“Just a second!” Roman vigorously splashed water on his face and quickly dried it with a towel, rushing out of the bathroom so that Virgil could run in. He sighed again, walking downstairs to wait on the couch until it was time to go.

“Alrighty, everyone got everything?” Patton eventually asked, making Roman crack open the eyes he didn’t even realize he closed. Patton smiled and clapped his hands together when his response was tired hums of agreement. “Perfect! To the car!”

All three kids bunched themselves together in the back of Patton’s car, Roman and Virgil at the window seats while poor Logan was squished in the middle. Roman squeezed his legs together so he could fit his backpack between Logan and himself, acting as a barrier so Logan couldn’t touch him. It was uncomfortable, but it was what Roman had to do.

“So, Roman, are you excited?” Patton asked, making Roman open his eyes again to look at Patton through the rearview mirror. Roman leaned his head against the window.

“More nervous. I’ve never been to a new school before.”

“Well, hopefully you can make lots of friends here! The school is pretty big, so there are certainly lots of options!” Patton laughed at himself and Roman closed his eyes again.

We’ll see about that.

Eventually, after a failed attempt of getting in some extra minutes of sleep before school, Roman felt the car come to a stop. He opened his eyes and looked out the window to see the front of the large school building, kids with smiling faces talking to each other as they walked inside while others looked tired yet excited. Roman wasn’t feeling it.

“Alright, kiddos, have fun!” Patton exclaimed, “Remember to check in with the office for your schedule, Roman!”

All the kids started to pile out of the car, grabbing their bags off the floor to rush inside. Once they were all out, Patton’s car drove away to head for work.

Roman looked at the building as Logan and Virgil walked inside. It seemed huge compared to his old school, where the county was much more rural than here. They still had twenty minutes until school started and kids were already swarming in from multiple entrances, both from the main entrance and other doors connected around the building. Roman walked inside and held his arms close to himself, desperate not to be shoved around by the other students.

The office was fairly easy to find, considering there was a giant sign over the door in bold, white letters reading Office. Roman opened the door and stepped inside to get in line, feeling a little bit better that he wasn’t the only student having first day issues. The line shrank very quickly until it was Roman’s turn to ask questions, being faced with an old lady who could either be very sweet or the rudest person in the building. Roman could never tell.

“Uh, I’m a new kid at this school, and my guardian told me to come here to get my schedule?” Roman asked.

“Name.” Okay, well, rude it was, then.

“Roman Goldsberry.”

The desk worker didn’t respond, only typed something on her computer and didn’t make eye contact. “Next door to your left of that entrance is the counselor’s office. Your counselor is Mrs. Walters and she’ll call for you shortly.”

“Okay, thank you.” Roman had never scurried out of an office so quickly in his life. So much for a great first impression.

In the other office, Roman sat on a waiting chair and awkwardly glanced at all the college items they had hung up on the walls, waiting until his name would be called. The school day hasn’t even started yet, what’s taking them so long?

Roman drummed his fingers on the armrest of his chair and waited. There was a lot of college stuff in this room. Granted, high school’s whole thing was trying to take you to college, his old school was the exact same. And he should really start thinking about that stuff since he’s a sophomore now. He only had two more years left after this, but it’s not like he could go anyway. He wasn’t even supposed to graduate high school, let alone college.

Besides, his dream was stupid anyway, so it didn’t matter.

“Roman Goldsberry?” A voice called out, taking Roman out of his thoughts. Roman stood up to follow the counselor into her office.

“I’m Mrs. Walters, and it’s nice to meet you Roman!” She said cheerily as she sat at her desk with Roman sitting right in front of her. “Your schedule was a bit last minute to pull together, but I tried my hardest based on your last school’s transcript and your test scores from last standardized testing. All I need is to schedule some extra electives for you. You have advanced English 12, advanced geometry, advanced biology, and world history. You can also choose Spanish 3 here if you wish to continue that. You also still need your gym credit, so you can take regular PE or strength training. I also have a list of other electives here if you want to look at that.”

“Yeah, I can look.” The counselor handed Roman a paper of all the electives organized by their subject. Well, Roman definitely wanted to continue Spanish, so that choice was easy. Strength training sounded like a fun way to do gym class with less dodgeballs to the face, but it was only a semester long, so he’d need to pick another semester class for the second half of the year. And he could join another painting or drawing class as his last elective, but he’d already taken those at his old school…

Roman gazed at the arts section of the packet, trying to find something he might like. His eyes lit up as he noticed the names of two classes: set design, which was a semester long and sounded magical, and something called sculpture. “What does the sculpture class teach?” Roman asked.

“It’s an art class that teaches you how to sculpt with different things. Like clay, wood, things like that. It’s a very hands-on class if you’re interested.”

Roman smiled. “I want that one then.”

The counselor typed something into her computer. “Have you chosen your other classes?”

“Yes, Spanish 3, set design, and strength training.”

“I’ll put you in strength training for this semester, but next semester you can join the set design class. I’ll email your elective teachers to inform them you’ll be joining their classes, but for now…” The counselor printed off a piece of paper and handed it to Roman. “This is your new schedule. Your first class is English with Ms. Fritz, and her class should be up on the third floor at room 316. Do you think you can make it there?”

“I can, thank you.”

The counselor smiled. “Have a nice first day.”

Roman walked off to head toward his first class, going up two flights of stairs and wandering across half the floor before he finally found his classroom. Thankfully, the halls were full of students desperately trying to locate their classrooms, so Roman didn’t feel as weird. He eventually stumbled upon the correct room number after checking multiple hallways and trying to follow their scattered number system. He looked at the door with a paper rabbit and a book with a phrase reading hop into a good book, and could guess immediately what type of teacher this would be.

Roman pushed open the half-cracked door and stepped inside.

The dozen kids who were already sitting stared at him when he walked in, but quickly resumed their conversations shortly after. Roman glanced at an empty seat off in the middle row near the other end of the class and moved to sit down in it. He looked around at the other kids off in their own worlds, with no one to get excited to see him and strike up a conversation. He was sitting alone in a class where it seemed like no one else was.

Roman got bored quickly with no one to talk to, drumming his fingers on the table and starting to daydream instead.

The long lost princess with the power to see into the future is forced to hide in protected wilderness, Roman thought, picking up from an old story idea he’s had for a while. Can’t have a teen novel without an orphan, so she lives with a guardian healer instead. Then, she needs a trusty companion to not only start her adventures, but to assist her alongside them. Perhaps he could be a peasant boy born with more magic power than the normal peasant has? It sure would be interesting. Or maybe, he’s not a trustworthy companion at all! What if he’s using the princess to promote his own selfish ideals? But as the story goes on, they actually become close friends and he has an intense internal conflict as he turns into the antagonist! Then maybe-

“Alright class, I think it’s been late enough for us to start!” Roman tried not to be aggravated at the teacher for interrupting him. The teacher stood at the front of the class with a wide smile. “I’m Ms. Fritz, but of course I’m sure a lot of you already know that since you had me last year. I teach all grade levels for advanced English, so if you keep down this path you might stick with me until graduation! Now normally, teachers will start their first day with class expectations, maybe a rubric or a supplies list, but I have a better idea! How about we travel across the class and try to get to know each other better? I can pass around a ball, and if you catch the ball, you have to share three fun facts about you!”

A sense of dread filled into Roman after hearing that. He usually didn’t mind games like this since it was a mindless way to pass the time, but he didn’t have any friends to pass him the ball anymore. Was he just going to sit there until the end? Sounded awkward, no thank you.

“I think,” Ms. Fritz said with her hand gripping her chin in thought, “I’m going to start with the new kid.”

Roman perked his head up as all the other kids turned to him. Well, that was unexpected.

Ms. Fritz tossed Roman the ball, and thankfully he caught it without making a fool of himself. The teacher smiled at him encouragingly as he stood up, looking around at all the kids waiting for him to talk. What should I even say?

“Can you say your name first?” Ms. Fritz asked.

“Well…I’m Roman. Uh, I like to paint, I’m half french, and…” Roman tried to think. What else was interesting about him? Something that shared a lot about him as a person?

Quickly, it dawned on him. One idea that I could possibly share, he thought. Well, it’s a bit invasive, but they’re all looking at me. So whatever.

He took a deep breath in. “…I’m a foster kid.”

When Roman admitted that, all the kids seemed to be more interested in him, leaning closer as their eyes widened. It was the first time Roman ever said it aloud, and it was so strange to hear coming from his mouth. He was a foster kid. That was an important part of his identity now.

He didn’t know how he felt about it.

“You’re half french?” Ms. Fritz pulled Roman out of his thoughts with that question. “Do you know any french?”

“I’m fluent.”

“That’s so cool! Can you say something in French for us?”

Roman seemed to think about it. “Quelque chose.”

Ms. Fritz blinked. “Well, I hope it was appropriate to say in a classroom. When did you move here, Roman?”

“Like…four days ago. Very recently.”

“You only got added to my roster last night, so I believe you! How about you pass the ball to another kid now?”

Roman looked around the room awkwardly before making eye contact with a random girl and tossing her the ball. He sat back down and only paid half his attention to what the other kids were saying. Well, at least he didn’t have to wait awkwardly anymore.

The rest of the class went like that. It seemed like a lot of these kids were students that Ms. Fritz had in the past, as well as being students that were also close friends with each other. They talked a lot and made lots of jokes with the teacher, and they seemed really close, which Roman understood since he was the same with his old group of advanced kids. The extra conversation dragged the game out longer than it probably should have been, but Roman didn’t mind. He didn’t want to actually work or anything anyway.

Eventually, the game ended, and the last kid tossed the ball to Ms. Fritz. “Alright,” she said, “That game dragged out longer than I thought it would, but that’s fine! The bells are shorter the first few days anyway. We only have a couple minutes left, so talk amongst yourself if you want, I don’t care. The assembly should be after your fourth bell for the sophomores, so don’t let your teachers forget!”

All the students turned around to talk to the kids around them. Roman simply watched their conversations with no one to talk to himself, realizing how all the new kids at his old school must have felt. It was like looking in from the outside, where no one else could see you. Roman was just…there.

“Hey,” the kid in front of him turned around to face Roman. Roman almost jumped at the sudden attention. “What’s your name again?”

“Oh, Roman. Roman Goldsberry.” Roman turned to sit properly in his seat and leaned in closer. This was a good start! He seems nice, maybe I can make a friend!

“Roman Goldsberry!” He mocked, turning to his other friends to laugh. “That’s such a pretentious name. And very American sounding, by the way. I thought you were French?”

Roman’s shoulders sagged. Nevermind. Eight in the morning on my first day, and apparently I’ve made an enemy before a friend. “I’m half french, not fully french.”

The kid turned to his friends and made a face at them before they all laughed. Roman felt his blood boil.

“So your dad is the American?” The kid asked.

“Yes.” Roman hoped his sharp tone would help them realize not to mess with him.

“Are you close with your dad?”

Roman froze, and the group of kids turned to each other to make faces at each other again. He really didn’t see what was so funny. Who asks a complete stranger a question like that out of the blue?

Before Roman could snap and tell the kid to mind his own damn business, another kid from the other side of the room scoffed. “Mitchell.”

“What? I’m just asking!”

The other kid opened their mouth to retaliate, but a loud and obnoxious bell went off before they could. Kids started to get up to rush to their next class, and Roman joined them. The sooner he got away from Mitchell (who had no right to bully Roman for his name when he was called Mitchell), the better.

Roman rushed out into the hall and hyper focused on the schedule in his hands. World history, room 203. The next floor down.

Roman was so occupied in trying to find a flight of stairs, he didn’t notice the kid trying to catch up to him.

***

The rest of Roman’s day wasn’t half as eventful as his first bell. History class had a chill teacher, which was nice, then next was his strength training class. His teacher was a little confused when he showed up but was happy to have Roman on board. He seemed very strict with his class rules though, and Roman hated that considering one of his rules was they had to change into gym clothes. Which meant Roman had to wear gym shorts.

…Well, guess he’d have to get used to wearing multiple pairs of boxers again.

Besides that, he also got lost on his way to sculpture, so he showed up ten minutes late telling this random teacher he was her student now. At least she didn’t seem bothered. After that, they all went to the sophomore assembly where they were told the school rules and updates, which Roman’s pretty sure he was the only kid who actually listened. Then, after the assembly, Roman went to the cafeteria to eat a lunch that Patton packed him. He hadn’t actually brought a packed lunch to school in years, so the sentiment was…strange.

Not that Roman would complain about an edible lunch, though.

Roman looked around the cafeteria for a place to sit. The place was starting to become crowded as more students got out of line for buying lunch, so Roman needed to find a spot fast. It’d be easier if he made a friend to sit with, but after the morning Mitchell incident, Roman hadn’t cared to try again in his other classes.

That’s when Roman spotted him. A kid with thick glasses eating a fruit cup as he worked on some papers next to him, completely ignoring the world to finish some homework. Roman wasn’t exactly close with his foster brothers, but hey, maybe Logan could prove himself a little useful. He had to be lonely too, right?

Roman took his chance and sat across from Logan. Logan didn’t look up from his papers. “Hey there, nerd!”

Logan glanced an eye toward Roman. He focused back on his work. “Hello.”

“How’s your first day of high school going?”

It took Logan a solid minute before he responded. “It’s going alright. I got unlucky with a teacher of mine, who already gave us a homework packet for the week, so I’m trying to get a head start on it.”

“Really? What teacher?”

“Mr. Owens, he’s the more strict teacher of the two that teach medical technology.”

Roman’s eyes widened. “Medical technology? That’s a class here?”

“Yes. I had to do a lot of things last year to get into it, however. It’s part of the intensive medical learning path. However, the extra work is necessary.”

“…Right. What other classes are you in?”

“Advanced biology, advanced geometry, advanced English, medical tech as I just mentioned, German 2, health, and painting.”

Roman tilted his head to the side. “Wait, I thought most of those were sophomore classes?”

“And I took freshman classes my eighth grade year. Your point?”

Roman blinked. “…Fair enough.”

Roman brought out his own sandwich and ate it in awkward silence. Logan seemed so focused on his paper that he wasn’t saying a word, and trying to spark conversation with him when he was like this was next to impossible. He felt like he was intruding by sitting next to Logan, the air feeling thick for a reason Roman couldn’t quite place. Once he finished his sandwich, Roman had enough.

“I think…” Roman said, “I’m going to sit…somewhere else.”

Logan didn’t react. “Alright.”

Roman stood up and awkwardly shuffled to an empty spot at a table on the other side of the cafeteria, placing down his lunch box and trying again. Well, he thought as he opened up a cheese stick wrapper, better get used to being alone, then.

“Hey, excuse me?”

Roman looked up at the voice while he was mid-bite. It was the same kid who scolded Mitchell back in his English class, tired circles under their eyes and a gray sweater on despite it being August. Though, Roman had been freezing in most of his classes today, so maybe this person had the right idea.

“Oh- I’m sorry, were you sitting here?” Roman asked.

“No, you’re fine, I just…” The kid looked side to side anxiously. “…Mind if I sit with you?”

“…Oh! No, I don’t mind at all.”

The kid smiled and set their lunchtray across from Roman. “Thanks. I’m Elliott by the way, they/them pronouns.”

Roman’s brain took a minute to process what they meant. “Uh, hello! I’m Roman…he/him?”

Elliott seemed to get happier when he said that. “Nice to meet you. How’s your first day been so far? Besides for you-know-who this morning.”

Roman laughed. “Well, aside from that uncalled for mess, it’s been quite normal. I got lost a few times, but that’s not new for me. My teachers seem quite alright so far.”

“That’s good to hear. We have a lot of good teachers, I think, unless they teach calculus, then they have some serious issues. But so long as you don’t act like an idiot it’s easy to get past those teachers.”

“I’ll keep that in mind! Hopefully I stay on this hot streak, though.” Roman took out a water bottle from his lunch and started to drink it. “But it’s the students I’m more worried about. They all seem so off on their own. Or just outright rude like that guy this morning.”

Elliott groaned, leaning his head on his hand and slouching. “I’m really sorry about him. He can be a huge jerk for no reason. I think he’s just itching for a fight.”

“You seem to know him quite well. Old friend or something?” Roman asked.

Elliott groaned again. “…He’s my ex.”

“…No offense to your type or anything, but…ew.”

“Oh no, yeah, dating him was definitely an ew,” Elliot sighed. “We broke up like, four times in the span of a year and a half. It was a mess. Eventually, over the summer I broke up with him for good. I think he’s still upset about that and taking it out on the first easy target he finds. That, and he’s a jerk.”

“Well, he’ll soon learn I’m not one to be described as an easy target.” Roman gave a cocky smile and posed.

The bell sounded off again, and all the students stood up from their tables and started to swarm the trash cans and cafeteria exits. Roman and Elliott gave each other a look as they also stood up.

“So…what class do you have next?” Elliott asked nervously.

“Let’s see…” Roman pulled out the schedule from his pocket and looked at it. “Advanced biology with Mr. Weber.”

Elliott’s eyes lit up. “Me too! Uh…wanna walk together then? I can show you where it is.”

Roman smiled. “Of course!”

The two kids headed down the stairs, talking more and laughing long after they sat down in the class and the bell rang. Roman continued to whisper to Elliott during class until the teacher gave them both a warning glance, shutting their mouths but smiling at each other.

Even as Roman tried to pay attention, he felt a weight lift from his chest.

He’d obtained a friend after all!

***

The entire bus drive home, Roman spent it texting Elliott’s number that they’d given him right after biology ended. He talked about his last two classes and listened to Elliott ramble about his bad luck with classmates this year, grinning to himself with his eyes glued to his screen until his stop came. Virgil banged his fist on Roman’s seat to get his attention, making him jump and stand up to get off with Virgil and Logan.

During the walk home, no one said anything. Roman was off in his own world and Virgil just looked tired, with Logan staring intently at his own shoes as he walked. Virgil unlocked the door for them all to come inside, and they all branched off into their different directions. Virgil got a snack from the kitchen while Roman and Logan ran up to their rooms.

Roman spent a lot of his time in his room now that he’d gotten the curtains around his bed. Lying there was a lot softer than hiding on the bathroom floor with his legs propped up, and Roman was still confused as to how he managed to get away with installing this. He’d have to make sure Patton never entered his room again in case he planned to rip the curtains off their hooks.

He’d have to make a plan to effectively keep him out.

But for now, Roman actually needed to talk to Patton as soon as possible. He needed to ask for gym clothes, since that was the only thing Roman still needed to get for class, and he wanted to get it over with so Roman wouldn’t need to keep worrying about it. He was almost certain Patton had come home half an hour ago, but Roman just ignored him and stayed in his room. But he had to take advantage of the fact that he was remembering to ask for the clothes, so there was no time like the present to go find him.

Roman hopped out of bed and exited his room, making his way downstairs to the living room. He figured Patton would be either watching TV or doing something in the kitchen, but when Roman looked around, he didn’t see him anywhere. Virgil was sprawled across the couch on his phone, but no one else was around. Roman put his hands on his hips.

“Where’s Patton?” He asked Virgil.

Virgil didn’t look up. “Upstairs. In his room I think.”

Roman groaned and stomped back upstairs. He hated going into an adult’s room, so he instead opened the door and poked his head in so he wouldn’t have to step inside. But before he could get a word out to Patton, Roman stopped himself.

Patton was sitting on his bed with the lights dimmed, his back resting in the headboard, but what shocked Roman was that Logan was there also. He had his face hidden in Patton’s neck as Patton rubbed his back and played with his hair, holding him tight to his chest while Logan sniffled. Roman had never seen Logan emote before, so watching him cry was…disturbing. Roman wanted to run over and rip Logan from Patton to protect him.

Patton looked at Roman in the doorway and smiled. “You gotta remember to knock before entering, kiddo. What do you need?”

Roman forgot the main reason he came here. “Is Logan okay?”

Patton looked down at Logan and whispered something in his ear. Whatever Patton said, Logan agreed with a quiet nod of his head. Patton rubbed at Logan’s neck in a way that made Roman’s skin crawl as Patton began to speak. “He’ll be okay, kiddo. He’s just a little overwhelmed from school today. Do you need anything?”

Roman took a step inside Patton’s bedroom. It made his whole body shift into fight or flight, but he couldn’t leave Logan alone with him in good conscience. “I just wanted to say I need to buy gym clothes by next Wednesday. I’m in a strength training class this semester.”

Patton smiled. “That’s fine, we can go shopping this weekend.”

Roman looked down at the floor. “Well…I was more thinking, like…I go into the store while you wait in the car.”

Patton raised an eyebrow at him. “I need to buy the clothes, kiddo.”

“You can just give me the money. I’ll stay within the budget and give you any left over, so…please?”

Patton’s face dropped a little, but he didn’t get angry, so Roman considered that a win. “Sure, kiddo. We’ll do that Sunday.”

Even after the conversation seemed to end, Roman still stood near the door, shifting on his feet awkwardly. Patton shifted his eyes between Logan and Roman as if he was analyzing both of their mental states, but Roman’s throat felt stuck as he tried to bring out the words he wanted to say. He was so scared, but he couldn’t force himself to ask the question he knew he needed to ask now. Yet his feet refused to make a run for it out the door despite his fear.

“Do you need something else, kiddo?” Patton lightly prompted. Roman attempted to swallow the rock he felt in his throat.

“Can I…Can I stay with you and Logan?” He hated it, but he had to do it. He didn’t know what Patton would try when Logan was vulnerable.

Patton looked down at Logan, and Logan nodded. Patton turned to smile again. “You can if you want, Logan doesn’t mind.”

Roman carefully walked to the other side of the bed, sitting as far as possible from Patton but keeping his eyes glued to Logan. He knew he wasn’t helping much, not saying a word and not even being close, but it was something Roman had to do. Just because him and Logan weren’t close didn’t mean he’d leave him in danger. Even if Roman felt stuck in his head and couldn’t find the power to move his arms.

Roman sat there for a while, watching Logan’s chest rise as Patton rubbed his back. It felt like ages before Logan’s chest slowed and he fell asleep on top of Patton, somehow not caring at all about being asleep in Patton’s presence. Roman’s heart ached for him. He was too trusting and innocent for his own good.

“I gotta do some chores,” Patton whispered, “So I’m gonna tuck him in and let him nap. Do you still wanna stay with him?”

Roman nodded, not being able to get the words out himself. He felt stuck as Patton lifted Logan up gently, petting his hair to soothe him when he stirred. Roman helped by tugging the covers back from his end of the bed so that Patton could tuck him in and let go of him sooner, his hand on the back of Logan’s leg making Roman anxious. Patton tucked Logan under the covers and watched his reaction. After a few seconds, Patton grabbed a squishy stuffed frog from his bedside table, handing it to Logan who curled around it in his sleep. It’d be cute if Roman wasn’t so worried.

“Tell me if anything happens, okay kiddo?” Patton said right as he was halfway out the bedroom door. Roman nodded, only finally relaxing after Patton left and slowly closed the door.

Roman immediately ran over to lock it. He didn’t have his security bar, but this would be good enough. Hopefully Patton wouldn’t test anything when he knew Roman would be by Logan’s side.

Despite all of Roman’s worries, Logan slept peacefully on the bed. He didn’t shift or seem distressed at all, just snuggling closer to Patton’s stuffed frog and resting. Logan was calm.

Roman sat on the floor to block the door and watched to make sure no one took that away from him.

147 notes · View notes

tssidesfics · 3 years

Note

Requests: Analogince where they’re human and also single dads? And they all meet because their kids fought and got called to the principals office

Virgil's POV

Upsides to being a single father to a child with ADHD: you got to raise a beautiful, special boy with a sharp mind. You got to teach him all the coping mechanisms you'd painstakingly learned over the years to cope with his condition and watch as he lit up over the things that brought him joy. You got to watch as he zipped from topic to topic, brighter than the sun, mind racing at a million miles an hour. You got to be the first person to hear about his beautifully creative ideas. You got to have a reason for living, all yours and wonderful, that you didn't have to share with anyone else.

Downsides to being a single father to a child with ADHD: you had no one else to pass the buck to when he got in trouble at school.

"It'll be fine," I chanted to myself for the billionth time as I turned off the ignition and unbuckled myself, gripping the steering wheel and forcing deep, measured breaths. "It'll be fine. He probably won't get expelled for this. This is his first fight and you don't even know why he got into a fight. You didn't raise a bully, so he was probably defending himself or another kid." Terror clasped me around the throat and squeezed. "But what if you did raise a bully and you didn't realize it, and now you've sentenced your son to a life of crime trying to make up for the hole in his heart where his father should have loved him oh God I broke my son!"

Immediately, my therapist's voice spoke up in my mind. You're catastrophizing again, he said in that obnoxiously aware, gentle way of his. Calm down. Take it one step at a time.

I closed my eyes and breathed deeply, focusing on the feeling of my stomach and then my chest expanding with air. I let it out through pursed lips, a quiet whistle in the exhale.

I'd played through scenarios like this a million times in my mind. The second Cassie told me, five months pregnant with tears streaming down her cheeks, that she didn't want the baby, I'd prepared myself for any possibility. I'd created contingency plans and contingency plans for my contingency plans, because I knew how much harsher the world would be on him. With a grandparent, his biological mother, and me all with ADHD, there hadn't been any doubt Drew would get it, too, and I'd prepared for that. I'd prepared for the possibility that poor grades and emotional dysregulation would put him on the back foot and even get him expelled. I'd taught him all the coping mechanisms I could. I'd tried to show him as much love and patience as I could muster, and I'd show him the same now. We'd get through this. We would make it through this.

I nodded, resolute, even as doubt and worry niggled at the back of my mind. I'd raised Drew alone, without any support from my parents or Cassie, working a call center job that barely paid enough to live off of. I'd demanded a child psychiatrist the second Drew started displaying symptoms and beat the system for the help he deserved. I'd beat the system for the help I deserved. I was a badass. I was a badass.

I got out of the car.

The two people at the front desk--a woman with strawberry blonde hair and a baby-faced guy--looked over, presumably torn from their conversation, when I walked through the door. The woman swiveled her chair to face me with a friendly smile. "Hello there," she said. "How may I help you?"

I forced myself to look her in the eyes and strained through a smile. If you act like a weirdo, it'll just make things worse for Drew. "Hey," I said. "I'm, uh...Drew Griffith's father. You called me and--"

"Oh!" She gestured to the side, at a door that read: PRINCIPAL MOROZOV. "He's in there."

I looked over and gulped, staring in fear at the door. "Say, uh..." I smiled at the woman as politely as I could. "You wouldn't happen to know the correct social etiquette for talking to the principal after your son gets into a fight at school, would you?"

She gave me a funny look. "Huh?"

"Never mind." I hung my head in defeat and commenced the walk of dread to the front door of the office. The wall facing me was all glass, which meant I could see inside. Two adults, one natural-haired in a polo shirt with his arm around one of the kids in the chair beside him and the other behind a desk, looking stern. I couldn't see the other two kids or any other adults.

And then Principal Morozov spotted me through the glass and shit, I was out of time.

I took a deep breath and opened the door. "Sorry it took me so long," I said, hoping that was the right thing to say. "It was hard getting off work."

"It's all right," Principal Morozov said. "We haven't even reached Mr. Accardo yet."

"Hey, Dad," came the halfhearted voice of Drew, hidden behind a chair too big for him, especially when he slumped in it like that.

I peered over the top and smiled at him softly. "What the heck, kid?" I asked.

"He called Patton a freak." Drew pointed at the kid in the middle, with a busted nose and--oh God.

He had scattered burn marks across the right side of his face, with two differently-colored eyes and a scowl.

"So of course you had to beat me up," the kid sneers. "Because that's a perfectly rational, healthy thing to do."

The third kid--Patton, I presumed--bounced in his seat, humming in distress. His father, a man wearing glasses and a polo shirt with a tie, rubbed his back.

"I don't see why my son has to be here," the other father said, looking at Principal Morozov. "He didn't do anything."

“Patton sits alone at lunch time and doesn’t have any friends,” the principal said. “We think if he tried to get along with his peers better, he’d have a happier time here.”

“Or, you know, you could make an effort to teach your students not to bully kids who are different from them,” I grumbled.

“What was that, Mr. Griffiths?”

I hesitated, glancing up at Principal Morozov, then back at Drew. On one hand, I wanted to lead by example: teach Drew that it was okay to stand up to authority for what he believed. On the other, sometimes, you had to pay lip-service to authority just to stay out of trouble. It was a lesson no child had the mental capacities to understand, but I supposed I’d have to do my best to teach him, because if I gave Principal Morozov cheek, he might expel Drew.

“Nothing, sir,” I said, feeling like a child cowering beneath the glare of my teachers again. I prepared to search for the bullshit in the story I was about to get fed and asked, “What happens now?”

"I'd prefer to wait for Mr. Accardo," the principal said.

"Roman teaches at a high school," the bully grumbled, slouched over with a glare fixated on the desk. "He's probably in the middle of class."

"Then you're going to have to stay after school to address this," Principal Morozov told him sternly.

"Whatever."

I had a very bad feeling about that kid. The scars on his face told a frightening story. He could just as easily be bullied for those as Drew got bullied for his ADHD and Patton for being a loner, which probably meant he turned that abuse outward and attacked others for their perceived differences in a never-ending cycle of abuse.

What? I could be bad at people and have a special interest in human psychology. Those two things were not mutually exclusive.

Suddenly, the door banged open. I jumped out of my skin, clamping a hand over my chest and struggling to breathe levelly, eyes crushed shut and body frozen. Then I heard the babbling.

"I'm sorry!" The principal's door opened. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry. The kids were in the middle of rehearsal and--Janus, what happened? I'm so sorry, Mr. Morozov." A frazzled man with warm skin rushed inside and sat down next to the bully--Janus--hastily hugging him and turning his attention to the principal.

I frowned at the scene. I withheld judgment and looked at Principal Morozov as he said, "All right. Now that you're all here, there are going to be some serious consequences to what happened today."

********

"I can't believe you let him give me detention!" Drew whined. "Janus deserved to get punched!"

"And you deserve to die abandoned and unloved in a ditch, steeping in your own feces," Janus snapped.

"Janus," his father, Roman, said firmly, kneeling down and taking him by the shoulders. Janus tried to turn away from him, but Roman lightly shook him and made him meet his eyes. He softened. "I know how much you're hurting, but a hero never redirects his pain onto others. There are other ways."

"What if I don't want to be a hero?" Janus snapped. "What if I want to be the bad guy?"

"I don't believe that," Roman said gently, adjusting his bangs. "I don't think you do, either."

Janus turned from him sharply, crossing his arms and glaring at the asphalt. He sniffled.

Drew glanced up at me in confusion and I rubbed his back. "Sometimes," I said gently, "when people are hurting, they deal with that by hurting other people."

"That's stupid," Drew said with the blunt confidence of a ten-year-old.

"Maybe a little," I agreed, "but humans aren't always logical." Drew wrinkled his nose. "I know. It's so annoying, but it's true. You're not always logical, either. Remember when you burst out crying because your pencil broke?"

"Dad!" Drew turned bright red.

Roman chuckled. "So." He stood up and crossed his arms. "You're the little rascal who dared challenge Janus to a duel for--Patton, right?" He looked at Mr. Davis--or Logan, as he'd introduced himself--who nodded. "You're the rascal who challenged Janus to a duel for Patton's honor," Roman finished.

"He was being an asshole," Drew protested.

"I'd say it's not my fault he uses that language," I said through a wince, "but it's definitely my fault he uses that language."

"I'm the same way with Janus, don't worry." Roman chuckled--a low, rumbly sound. He turned back to Drew. "You're got a paladin's heart and a temper. I was a lot like you when I was a kid."

Drew snorted. "You think you're cute, don't you?"

"He's always like this," Janus said, shoving in front of Roman. "He thinks it's so inspiring to talk about heroes all the time, like fairy tales are the best thing ever."

"That's gotta be annoying," Drew said, wrinkling his nose.

"It is." Janus stopped and scowled. "Don't relate to me!"

"Ew! You're a jerk! Get away from me!"

I exchanged a fond, exasperated look with Roman, who chuckled and squeezed Janus' shoulder. "Hey," he said, "maybe, if you apologized, you could have a friend."

"I don't want to apologize."

"So you'd rather another kid think you're a horrible person!"

Janus hesitated a moment before straightened his back. "Yes."

"I don't believe that."

I glanced over at Logan and saw that he was busy talking to Patton, kneeling on the ground and smoothing his hands over his shoulders in measured strokes. It seemed to soothe Patton. I looked at Drew.

"You know how it sometimes hurts you when you think about your Aunt Cassie?" I said softly, pulling him into my side as the shadow washed over his face.

"He called Patton a freak, Dad," Drew argued. "He's not even really my friend, but he's not a freak. He's just...different. Like me."

"I know, kiddo," I said, squeezing him against my side. "You don't have to give him a chance. He hasn't asked forgiveness, and you wouldn't owe him one even if you did. I just know you don't like to see people struggling alone."

Drew hesitated.

I looked over at Logan. "How's Patton?"

Logan glanced back at me, then looked at Patton. "Do you want to answer?"

Patton hesitated.

"It's okay," I said, not looking at his face. Patton hadn't made eye contact with a single person, including his father, since I'd met him. He clearly had more trouble with it than I did, and I wasn't always a huge fan. "I'm autistic, too."

Patton immediately perked up. "Really?"

"Yeah." I smiled, looking over the top of his head. I looked at Drew. "Can I tell him about you?"

"I'm ADHD," Drew told him, turning to him. "I got diagnosed last year."

"Oh cool!" Patton flapped his hands at his sides and bounced eagerly. "I don't, I don't think, because I'm actually pretty good at focusing most of the time and I have a really good memory, but Dad says autism and ADHD are really close together. It's really nice to meet someone else! I don't have many friends."

"Well, I guess you have me," Drew said. "I didn't get in trouble defending you for nothing."

Patton squealed and continued stimming enthusiastically. Drew offered a hug, which Patton considered for a long moment before accepting.

Logan smiled softly at the exchange and looked over to me. "You've raised a very kind son."

"More than half of it is all him," I said. "I do the best I can, but...I'm just one person. He's probably gonna hate me once he's a teenager."

"Nuh-uh!" Drew objected, charging over to embrace me around the middle. I smiled and hugged him close, squeezing him as tight as was safe. He grunted.

I caught Janus staring at us. I couldn't read his expression. He was glaring, but I had a feeling it wasn't anger. But clearly, Roman did understand it, because he knelt down and hugged him close, even when he tried to push him away. He just held fast. I thought for sure Janus would react badly--he hadn't wanted to be held, what was wrong with Roman?--but then he slowly relaxed and leaned against him. I still couldn't read him very well, but that...didn't look particularly resigned.

"You know," Roman said, pulling back after a long while, "I bet Drew and Patton would be willing to forgive you if you really, really earnestly apologized."

Janus shoved away from him, crossing his arms and glaring at the ground. "I don't want to apologize."

Roman sighed heavily, and Drew whirled on him. "You're such a freaking jerk!" he screamed. "What's wrong with you? Why do you have to be a jerk to everyone? I tried to be your friend and you just spit on me!"

"I don't want your pity!"

"It wasn't pity!"

"It's always pity!" Janus screeched. "You think I don't know what these scars make me? You think I don't know I'm a freak? If the fire didn't teach me that, then my parents sure did! I'm nothing! The only reason anyone would be nice to me is pity and I don't want anyone's pity! I just want to be left alone!"

Janus turned and ran. Roman chased after him frantically, never sparing Logan or I a glance.

Drew and Patton stood stunned. Drew looked at Patton, who stared at his forehead. "Well..." he said. "What the heck am I supposed to do now?"

Patton ran in the direction of Janus.

At that point, about the only thing for Drew and I to do was chase after his new friend, hot on the heels of his father.

We found Patton with his backpack unzipped, standing beside Janus' car door, already buckled in with Roman partway into the driver's seat, holding out a picture of a flower.

"It's ivy," Patton said. "It means friendship."

Janus stared at him through the window, unmoving. Patton, to my shock, held his gaze for one, two moments and then averted his eyes. Logan hurried over to hold him, clearly expecting Janus to reject him again.

Janus opened the car door. "Why would you want to be my friend?"

"He didn't say he wanted to be your friend," Drew sneered. "He just said it meant friendship, dummy."

"Drew," I chided softly, and he recoiled into my side.

"Because it's nice to know I'm not the only one who can't make any friends," Patton said. "I like having other friends who are special."

"I'm not special," Janus snapped.

"Dad says that being different is always special, because different people have discovered some of the coolest, prettiest things ever."

"It's true," Logan said. "Albert Einstein, Hans Christian Anderson, and Michelangelo. were all autistic."

"See?" Patton bounced and beamed at Janus. "So maybe we can all be different and special together and do really cool things one day! Like the three Musketeers."

Janus considered strongly. "I'm Athos."

"You can be whoever you want to be!" Patton said earnestly. "Then we can all have lots of musketcheer."

Drew, Roman and I choked on a laugh. Logan shook his head fondly. "He watches one sitcom that likes puns and he suddenly won't stop," he said.

Even Janus cracked a small smile. He accepted the paper. "Fine," he said. "We can have musketcheer."

Drew pouted. "Does this mean I'm your friend now?"

"Yes," Patton said firmly, looking at him.

Drew jumped, looking fearfully at Patton, who somehow managed to look intimidating while also avoiding eye contact. He looked up at me. "What have I done?" he asked.

"Made friends." I rubbed his back. I looked around. "We should probably get all these guys home. They've had a long day, and school will be letting out soon."

"I guess now that all our kids are friends, I'll be seeing more of you," Roman said to both Logan and me.

Logan hummed. "I presume so. Patton does not own a phone of his own. I can give you my number if your children wish to contact him?"

"I hate to say it, but you should probably get him his own phone," I said. "It's dangerous not to have one. If I ever lost sight of Drew...I'd rather he have a phone."

Logan considered this. "I suppose you have a point. Nevertheless, for the moment, you'll have to go through me to reach Patton."

"Don't have to ask me twice. Here." Roman accepted Logan's phone and typed in Janus' number, then passing it to Drew, who stared at it for a moment.

I recited his number to him and he punched it in. "Don't worry, kid," I said. "One day, you're going to have to tell so many doctors your number that it's going to be emblazoned on your brain."

After all numbers had been exchanged, I shook Logan's and Roman's hands goodbye and let Patton and Drew embrace again. Janus stayed stubbornly in his seat, refusing any sort of affection, which kind of concerned me, but then Roman whispered, "This is the most receptive he's been since I started fostering him."

I nodded and smiled, leading Drew back toward the car. He looked at me. "I guess I have friends now."

I glanced back toward Roman's car as it drove away and caught Logan's eye as he loaded into his own. He smiled at me.

"Yeah," I said. "I think I might have, too."

#sanders sides human au #analogince #ts virgil #ts roman #ts logan #ts sides #sanders sides #ts patton #ts janus #adhd virgil #autistic logan #trans virgil #autistic virgil #kid patton #kid janus #kid oc #virgil being trans has nothing to do with the fic #it is just important to me that you know there is no such thing as a cis virgil when i'm writing him in a human AU #this mostly turned into janus angst hour #he's very young and very little and needs much therapy #i tried to write the actual chat with the principal and it did not work well #so the principal is a caricature on which i'm projecting all of my neurodiverse school troubles with authority figures onto #i did not have a fun time in school #yes most of these characters are neurodiverse #i'm not PROJECTING or anything #why ever would you think something silly like that #one ask down #many more to go #caffeine save my soul

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a-small-batch-of-dragons · 3 years

Text

I'm Okay (Sure)

Prompts: hi there! may i request some loceit angst for the soul? - anon

oh my goodness all your writing is so good!!!! i was wondering if you could write some loceit hurt comfort? preferably with Logan hurting? -anon

Hey I’m back with another print cause the last time I did that I sobbed for 30 minutes and I loved it. Anygay...Can you write a fic where Roman or Logan somehow end up thinking their worth is hinged on their ability to produce good work and what they are able to just take? Then Janus hears them saying they are okay and then tries to help? - anon

Listen lately there have been too many of these prompts that go 'hey *sucker-punch*' SO

We're fine. Everything's fine. Everything is so fine right now. Everything is so fine and good in the way that it's happening.

Read on Ao3

Warnings: none

Pairings: LAMP, DLAMP, DLAMPR, can be platonic or romantic you decide

Word Count: 2198

There aren’t enough lies in the world to drown out the words that strike into Janus’s head.

I’m okay.

Janus frowns, setting his book down and glaring at the ceiling. As if he can glare the words away from the mouth of who just spoke them. But nothing changes. The curl at the back of his throat doesn’t vanish. The hiss still slides out of his mouth. He sighs and stands, sinking out to go find today’s pretty little liar.

He isn’t surprised when he strides out of the shadows next to a desk brimming with overstuffed notebooks and a box of tissues. He suppresses a sigh as he sees the door and folds his hands patiently. A few moments later, the door opens and Logan steps through, stopping when he sees Janus. Janus raises an eyebrow.

“Janus?” Logan glances over his shoulder. “How can I help you?”

Janus just hisses.

“I don’t know what that means,” Logan sighs, coming in the close the door, “just tell me what you want.”

He hisses again, drawing it out this time.

“Janus, I don’t know why you’re here.”

He sighs. The next hiss has his tongue flicking out through his teeth. Logan winces.

“Come here,” Janus murmurs, holding his hand out, “and I won’t let Patton see me.”

Logan winces again. “Did you hear both of us?”

“Just you,” Janus smirks. “Gotcha.”

“Well played,” Logan mutters, even as he walks across the room. “Now what do you want?”

He raises his eyebrows. “It’s certainly not that I’m concerned that you’re lying about being okay.”

“Janus,” he sighs, “how many times a day do you say the words ‘I’m fine?’ It’s not something to worry about.”

He narrows his eyes. “One of us is called ‘Deceit,’ my dear Logan, and one of us is not.”

“But—“

“Logan,” Janus calls softly, “don’t lie.”

For a moment, he thinks it might work. Then Logan presses his lips together and folds his hands.

“Not saying anything counts as a lie of omission here,” Janus sighs, “work with me.”

Logan says nothing. His gaze drops to a spot on the floor.

“…don’t make me do this,” Janus whispers.

Still nothing.

Oh, Logan, why so stubborn?

“You just came from baking with Patton,” Janus says softly, “there’s still flour on your tie.”

Logan’s face twitches once.

“You promised that you would stay the whole night this time,” he continues, tilting his head slightly, “but you didn’t. You only leave when you’ve given a proper explanation, because you think it’s rude otherwise.”

He starts walking in a slow circle.

“But you didn’t—Patton followed you up here.” He casts a glance at the door. “Which means that you just…left.”

He stops, right behind him, watching the line of his back tense.

“Now, what would send our dear, darling nerd running for cover?”

He doesn’t miss the way Logan tries not to flinch.

“Was it something wrong with the baking? No, no, you’ve left your sleeves rolled a little—“ he reaches out to tap the fabric— “so you left in a hurry.”

“Enough,” comes the very quiet whisper.

“Your collar is still crooked,” Janus continues as he walks, “so you must’ve frozen in the middle of adjusting your tie.”

“Stop.” Still a whisper.

“And you’ve still got ink stains on your hands—“ he points— “which means you’ve not been paying attention for a while. Your focus is elsewhere.”

“Stop it.” Not quite a whisper.

“You were good enough to fool Patton,” Janus says, finishing the circle, “but sloppy. Too sloppy. The quality of your—“

“Stop!”

Logan moves in the blink of an eye, reaching out to shove himself away from Janus but he’s too slow. Janus has him by the forearms before he can react. He trembles in Janus’s hold as two more hands come up to fix the glasses on his nose.

“And,” Janus murmurs, his voice as soft as he can make it as he tilts Logan’s chin up to make sure the glasses are in place, “you’ve let me rile you up like this.”

He takes Logan’s face firmly in his hands.

“What’s the matter, sweetie?”

Logan’s mouth trembles. “It’s nothing.”

“Sweetie…”

“It is,” Logan protests stubbornly, “and that’s the problem.”

Janus frowns, gentling his grip on Logan’s arms and looping them around his neck. “What’s the problem, what’s made you so upset?”

“It’s nothing,” Logan says again, closing his eyes, “and I can’t—they—the problem is not something, it is the absence of something that is causing the issue.”

Janus makes a noise of understanding, letting Logan pull back enough to clean his glasses and straighten his tie. “And what is it that you wanted there to be?”

Logan huffs, still not making eye contact. “Something. Anything. I…it…my work.”

“What about your work?” Janus tips his head up. “Logan, you can talk to me. You don’t have to put all of this on.”

“I know,” he mumbles, “but that’s what I have to do for everyone else.”

“That’s not…” Janus trails off. “Who told you that?”

“What?”

“Who told you that,” he repeats, thing a step closer, “who told you that you have to sit there and take it? To put up the front of nothing hurting you?”

Logan just looks at him. Janus bites back a snarl and tugs Logan in for a proper hug.

“You’re not just Logic, sweetie,” he whispers, rubbing his back, “you’re Logan. And you’re allowed to have feelings.”

Logan’s head bows into Janus’s shoulder and for a moment, he thinks Logan’s going to choke out a sob or at least relax.

Instead, Logan tenses. “No, I can’t.”

And pulls away.

“I have to work,” he insists, already putting the facade back together, piece by piece, “and as such, I must focus. You are correct in pointing out that I have allowed my focus to drift, thus I must get it back. Thank you for correcting my error.”

He motions to the desk.

“Now, if you will excuse me, I’d better get back to work.”

He frowns when Janus is silent.

“Janus? Are you alright?”

Yes. Absolutely. Undeniably. He’s fine.

Because every single word that just came out of Logan’s mouth is fine. It makes complete sense. It implies a perfectly healthy relationship between Logan and his work. It ensures that Logan takes care of himself and that he knows he is supported.

“Logan,” Janus says softly, “I’m going to ask you a question.”

Logan blinks. “Alright.”

“Please don’t lie to me.”

“I believe we have established that we are unable to lie successfully to you.”

That’s never stopped you from trying before.

Janus takes a deep breath. “Do you believe that your value and importance to us is based on the work that you are able to produce?”

Logan frowns. “Isn’t it?”

Janus’s heart breaks.

“Do you think,” he says instead, reaching out to take one of Logan’s hands, “Patton would’ve followed you up here if he were just concerned about your work?”

Logan frowns. “No, but that’s different.”

“Do you think Virgil would make a point of asking you whether or not you’re comfortable at scheduled times throughout movie nights if he were primarily focused on the work you produce?”

“No, but—“

“Do you think Remus,” Janus continues, raising his voice a little, “would sink into your room as often as he does because he wants to make sure you take breaks if he were only thinking about what work you were doing instead of taking a break?”

“N-no.”

“Do you think Roman purposefully takes you on walks in the Imagination, to drag you away from your work, do you think he would do that if he only wanted to spend time with you because of what work you do?”

Logan shakes his head wordlessly, looking away. Janus lets out a soft noise before he reaches out. This time he doesn’t even have to touch Logan’s chin before he looks back.

“Do you think that I would be here with you right now,” he murmurs, “if I didn’t care about you?”

There’s the sob he’s been expecting, choked out behind a hand quickly clapped to his mouth as Janus pulls him back in for a hug. He takes off Logan’s glasses and sets them on the table, crooning softly as he wraps the poor thing up in his arms and takes them to the bed.

“We care about you, sweetie,” he whispers, running his fingers through Logan’s hair, “not your work, you. We care about your work because it’s yours. Don’t forget that.”

Logan tries to pull back and say something only for his tie to get caught between them. Janus shushes him gently and snaps his fingers, changing them both into something softer. He tucks a hand around the back of Logan’s neck and coaxes him to breathe, come on sweetie, it’s alright.

“I don’t know if I can do that,” Logan manages after a moment, wiping his face, “if I can—can believe that. J-just like that.”

“That’s okay, sweetie,” Janus murmurs, “but you try for me, okay?”

Logan still looks unconvinced. Janus raises an eyebrow.

“Would it be easier to hear from everyone else?”

“They wouldn’t say it.”

“…oh, sweetie, let me call them in here and prove you wrong.”

Logan just huffs. “You can try, I guess.”

Janus raises his voice and calls out: “Logan’s upset!”

They barely have time to blink before Remus has sunk right on top of them.

“Hey, Lolo,” he murmurs, voice soft enough to make Logan whimper and Janus chuckle, “you okay? When’s the last time you had a break?”

Virgil appears before Logan can answer, tucking himself behind Remus and tugging slightly at his collar. “Get off, Remus, we don’t know if he’s okay with physical contact right now.”

Remus grumbles but listens, shuffling back to give Logan breathing room. Virgil’s face softens when he sees Logan’s face.

“Hey, L, what’s up? You okay? Bad patch?”

Before Logan can answer, there’s a knock on the door.

“Hello? Can we come in, kiddo?”

“It’s open,” Janus calls, only for Patton and Roman to bustle in, Patton cooing and rushing to take Logan into his arms at the evidence of tears.

“Oh, sweetheart, what’s the matter? I’m right here, it’s okay now, you’ll be alright.”

He hears Virgil mutter something about asking first before his attention turns to Roman. Roman raises an eyebrow at Janus, making his way over and bending down to ask, concerned: “what’s wrong? Did he tell you? Were you here when it started?”

Janus glances back at Logan, only for Logan’s gaze to land on Roman and his eyes widen.

“Hey, hey, Specs,” Roman hushes, raising his hands and doing his best to look non-threatening, “what’s that look for? Are you alright?”

“I’m—I’m sorry,” Logan stammers, “I—I’m not done yet, I can’t—we—I—“

“Oh, Logan, I don’t care about the work—“ yes, Roman— “I’m worried about you. Tell us what’s wrong, let us help.”

Logan hasn’t processed anything past ‘I don’t care about the work,’ it seems, judging by the way his breathing almost stops.

“Y-you…you what?”

As Roman’s head tilts in confusion, Janus speaks up.

“Our dear darling nerd is under the impression that we base his value on the work that he is able to produce,” he says softly, “and not that we care about him.”

Logan’s eyes well up with tears as cries of shock and immediate reassurances fill the room. Patton and Remus, it seems, can’t be held back anymore and all but launch themselves at the poor thing, cuddling him between them like some great teddy bear. Virgil carefully takes Logan’s glasses and passes them to Roman before snuggling in beside Logan’s head. Roman carefully tidies Logan’s desk—and oh, the prince knows exactly how Logan likes his desk organized, does he, how interesting—before nudging Janus’s arm so they both sit on the bed proper.

“Oh,” Logan mumbles, lost underneath the Patton-Remus-Virgil at the other end of the bed, “oh.”

“Yes, sweetie, oh.” Janus chuckles as Logan’s arms come up to shyly hug the others.

“There really are so many self-worth issues around here,” Roman mutters, “aren’t there?”

Janus hums, obliging as Logan reaches out for both of them. “We can help with those, won’t we?”

“Of course.”

Only later, when they’re all about to doze off, still in a pile, does Janus realize that he may not have been able to glare them away, but the lie is completely gone from Logan’s mouth.

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#dragonbabbles #sanders sides #fic #lamp #dlamp #dlampr #logan sanders #logan angst #janus sanders #deceit sanders #sympathetic deceit #remus sanders #sympathetic remus #patton sanders #virgil sanders

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spicycreativity · 3 years

Text

Flufftober Day 1 - Winning a Tedddy Bear for the Other

This is the only October prompt fic I was able to write, so uh. Hopefully you enjoy it!

2.5k words, pairings are pre-Logince, Dukexiety, and pre-Moceit

Nobody actually wins a teddy bear for anyone, despite their best efforts

Truly have no idea if this is solely an American hick town thing or not, but where I'm from, all the summer drama took place at the county fair; the hook-ups and break-ups and all the stuff that people would gossip about at the beginning of the school year. Except! The crew have just graduated and this is kind of their last hurrah before college and work and what have you.

Roman closed his eyes and tried to focus. He turned the basketball over in his hands, privately grossed out by the weird, sticky texture beneath his fingertips. He let the ambient noise of the county fair fade into the background. Focus. He just had to focus.

Then Virgil's voice shattered his concentration: "You know this game is rigged, right?"

Roman opened his eyes and, catching an annoyed glance from the carnival worker, sighed and hurled the ball at the hoop. It soared a neat arc and fell neatly through the center of the hoop. Ha. "I'll have you know I played basketball in middle school." He puffed out his chest a little and raised his arms so Virgil could admire his killer delts.

"And how old are you now?" Virgil leaned into Remus, who was lurking over his shoulder like some kind of lanky cathedral goblin. How Remus had landed a boyfriend before he did, Roman would never know.

The worker handed Roman another ball, which Roman accepted with a half-hearted "Thanks."

"It's true, though," Remus said, placing his chin on Virgil's shoulder. "The hoops are ovals."

"Everybody knows that," Roman huffed, and threw the ball.

"Yeet!" said Remus. Idiot.

The ball bounced off the rim. "You distracted me!" Roman huffed. The carnival worker held out another ball, but Roman dismissed him with a wave of his hand. "Oh, forget it!" Two baskets would only get him a stupid Minions keychain, and he definitely didn't want something that cursed in his possession. He turned and walked away, half-hoping Remus and Virgil wouldn't follow him.

"Dude, you paid for three tries," Virgil said.

Roman stopped and turned around and nearly got trampled by a herd of excited pre-teens. "You don't get it!" He gestured at Virgil and Remus' intertwined fingers, even now unable to fight back the wave of jealousy and longing that rose up inside him. "You guys already have your fairy--" He paused, corrected himself. "Your weird, creepy, Tim Burton fairytale dream. I have one shot to impress Logan tonight and I need to make the most of it!"

"Hold on, hold on, hold on!" Remus grabbed Roman by the wrist (ewww, Roman, just try not to think about where his hands have been) and dragged him over to a bench. "Your grand plan is to win Logan some lame carnival prize before he even gets here?"

"Oh, buddy." The mocking pity on Virgil's face was enough to make Roman blush. Jerk. All he'd had to do was sit around and wait for Remus to make the first move. "What makes you think that's even going to work?"

Roman stood up again, motioning for Virgil and Remus to stay seated. He'd had enough. "Because it's a grand, romantic gesture and I am a grand, romantic prince. Now leave me alone! You're wrecking my concentration and I'm supposed to meet Logan in an hour!" And he stalked off, soon getting lost in the crowd.

Virgil looked at Remus, who was wearing a look of undisguised masochistic glee. Still, Virgil ventured, more to soothe his own conscience than anything, "Should we try to help him?"

"Look!" Remus shot to his feet, pointing off into the distance. "Deep fried pickles!" He took off, nearly jerking Virgil's shoulder out of socket.

Virgil dodged an elderly woman and nearly tripped over his boots. "Roman?"

"No, I'm Remus."

"No, I mean, should we try-- Oh, forget it." Virgil wrapped his free hand around the back of Remus' and let Remus yank him through the crowd. There was a long line for the cart selling deep fried monstrosities because this was the county fair and people lost their humanity upon stepping through the gates. Not Virgil. He would sooner lick the door of the horse barn than consume anything from this horrorshow of a food cart. That was one thing Virgil and Roman could agree on: fair food was disgusting. Ah, poor Roman. "You do have to feel a little sorry for him, though," Virgil said, admiring the shiny piercings decorating the shell of Remus' ear.

"Who?" said Remus, standing on tiptoe and examining the crowd.

"Ro--"

"Oh, Roman?" Remus landed hard on his heels and nudged Virgil with his hip. "No I don't. A little heartbreak might take Sir Brags-a-Lot down a peg." Something caught his eye and he jerked his head away with a smile. "Hey. V. I'd like to dip my pickle in your deep fryer."

Virgil made a face, but soldiered on. "But he's had a crush on Logan since, what? As long as I've known him."

"Longer." Remus stuck out his tongue. "He and Logan were lab partners Freshman year. And I had to hear about him every single night." He lowered his voice into a passable imitation of Roman's, gesticulating with abandon. "'Ugh, Remus, this boy in my science class is so annoying; he knows about dumb shit like protons and covalent bonds. Who even cares about that? I don't. So I'm gonna keep talking about it for the entire bus ride home.' Nightmare."

"Exactly!" said Virgil, though he had kind of forgotten what he was getting at. What had he been getting at? He shuffled forward as the line moved and turned his fractured attention to the menu.

"Hey," said Remus, now drumming on Virgil's shoulder with his fingertips. "When was the last time you saw Pat and the Hat?"

"Who?"

"Come on, that was clever."

Virgil tapped his lower lip. "You mean Patton and Janus?" Remus just blinked at him. "I dunno, didn't they say they were buying tickets?"

"Yeah, like, 30 minutes ago.

The line moved forward again. Remus ordered his horrifying hell-pickle. Virgil ordered a lemonade, knowing full well that Remus would insist on paying anyway.

"Maybe," said Virgil, side-stepping away from the order window and deliberately ignoring the way Remus was running his tongue all up and down his deep-fried pickle, "they went to the petting zoo."

"Well, let's go get 'em," Remus said. "They don't get to ditch us just because Patton wanted to see the bunny rabbits."

The setting sun painted the clouds a brilliant orange. Patton sighed and stared out at the expanse of the fairgrounds beneath him. One by one, rides were starting to turn their lights on. It was exactly the most romantic time of evening, exactly how he'd wanted things to go when he suggested they take a quick ride on the Ferris wheel before tracking down the others.

Well.

Almost exactly.

"I should sue," Janus said. Again. He looked over the edge of their basket where it dangled almost exactly at the top of the Ferris wheel. "How long would you say we've been stuck up here?"

"Um," said Patton, trying to wiggle his phone out of his pocket.

"What if I was diabetic, hm? What if one of us needed to take life-saving medication and couldn't because we were stuck at the top of this death trap?"

"But Janus." Patton waited for Janus to meet his eyes, then smiled. "We don't."

The magic didn't last. "It's the principle of the thing!" Janus said explosively, looking away in obvious agitation.

Patton rallied and tried again. "You don't think it's kinda romantic? I mean, look out there." He gestured at the lit-up fairgrounds and the golden haloes of clouds.

Janus huffed and didn't look. "I don't see what's so romantic about a potential reckless endangerment lawsuit." And he was off again, ranting about confusing legal concepts and other things Patton wouldn't care about, except that they were important to Janus.

Oh, well. He sighed and watched the blinking lights of El Niño. If they got down soon, maybe he could win Janus a teddy bear or something and make his confession then.

"What color?"

Roman ran a hand through his hair. Of all the games to have a knack for, he hadn't expected darts. "Pink, I guess-- No, wait, the blue one."

The attendant nodded and handed Roman a flimsy acoustic guitar. "Congrats, man."

"Thanks." Roman turned to go. He had to meet Logan at the gates soon. At least he wasn't doing it empty-handed, not that a barely-playable guitar was a particularly romantic gift. Realy, who was he kidding? Logan didn't want the guitar and Logan didn't want him.

The fairground lights lit everything up a sickly green. Roman scanned the crowd at the midway, trying to determine the best way through, when his gaze fell on a familiar pair of glasses.

He was still trying to decide how to react when Logan reached him, his arms full of brightly-colored stuffed lemurs. "Hello, Roman."

"How long have you been here?" Roman demanded. The idea that Logan had been sneaking around, avoiding him, sat heavy in his stomach.

But to Roman's surprise, Logan blushed. "Not long," he said, shifting his weight. "I wanted-- Well, it seems foolish now."

Roman forgot his anger in an instant. "What? C'mon, Lo, I don't think you're even capable of being foolish."

"I had thought," Logan dropped his gaze to the stuffed lemurs in his arms, "I had thought that if I came early, I might be able to win something big and--" He cleared his throat. "And give it to you."

"Why?" Roman demanded. Why would Logan copy his plan?

"Well, Roman," Logan said in such a clipped, professional voice that he might have been delivering the weather report, "traditionally, winning a large prize for your sweetheart at the county fair is a romantic gesture."

"But I'm not your sw-- Oh." Roman's jaw dropped. The guitar's strings dug into his fingers. Then he started to laugh. Logan's expression hardened, but he stayed put, staring intently at Roman. "I'm sorry!" Roman choked out, brandishing the guitar at Logan as some sort of peace offering, though Logan didn't have a free hand to take it. "I was--" Tears streamed hot and ticklish down Roman's cheeks, his entire body still spasming with stifled laughs. "I was trying to do the same thing! That's how I got this stupid guitar."

"Oh," said Logan. "Oh, dear."

"Come on, let's sort this out." Roman stood on his tiptoes, spotted an empty bench, and led Logan to it.

"This is terribly awkward," Logan said, adjusting the lemurs in his arms. "Do you even want these?"

"Not really," Roman said. He held up the guitar. "Do you want this?"

"I don't."

They smiled at each other. "You know," said Roman, hurriedly counting Logan's stuffed lemurs. "You can trade six of those in for a kiss."

"Piercings!" Remus tugged on Virgil's sleeve and gestured at the booth.

"I thought we were looking for Patton and Janus," Virgil said, already trying to think of a way to keep Remus from getting an ill-advised piercing.

"Forget them! I wanna get my tongue done."

"Here?" Virgil asked as Remus tugged him closer and closer to the piercing booth. "We're, like, six feet away from a horse barn. You're gonna get an infection."

"Damn, V, it's not like I'm gonna French kiss the horses."

Virgil bit his lip and made a second attempt. "Don't you have enough holes punched in yourself?"

"Nope!" They reached the booth and Remus bounced on his toes while he studied the laminated photographs pinned to one of the tent walls.

"Fine, but don't expect any kisses until that piercing is fully healed," Virgil said, struck by an eleventh-hour moment of genius.

"Hold up." Remus turned around and stared at Virgil. "What?"

"You heard me." Advantage secured, Virgil relaxed a little and even managed a sneer. "No kisses until I'm 100% sure you're not gonna get blood or anything else in my mouth."

"Baaaabe." Remus wrapped his arms around Virgil's shoulders and let Virgil take some of his weight. "You're killing me! What about my self-expression?"

"You can get your tongue pierced," Virgil said, "just not at some shady horse barn-adjacent piercing booth run by a bunch of traveling randos."

"I'm an American," Remus mumbled into Virg's collarbone. "It's my God-given right to die of a horse infection because I got my tongue pierced at a-- Whatever you said."

"C'mon." Virgil stood Remus upright and took him by the hand. "I'll pay for you to get your tongue pierced at that nice place downtown. Or I'll get Janus to pay for it. Next birthday. I promise."

"Thanks, I guess," Remus muttered. He was obviously trying to pout, but his face kept cracking into a smile.

"And as for your self-expression…" Face-painting booths were a dime a dozen at the fair; you practically couldn't turn a corner without running into some kid with their face painted to look like Spider-Man. Virgil pointed to the closest one and continued to lead Remus toward it. "I'm thinking spider eyes for me, kraken for you?" Remus took a breath, but Virgil knew better. "There's no way anyone is going to paint a photorealistic dick on your face."

"Alriiiiight," Remus said. "Kraken it is."

The sun was now nearly gone over the horizon, only visible as a faint golden line. Janus had finally worn himself out and gone silent, though even in the darkness, Patton could see the annoyance smoldering in his eyes.

Oh, he was so cute. Even when he was annoyed. Which, granted, seemed to be most of them time, although some of it had to be an act. He smiled sometimes, when he thought Patton wasn't looking.

It was those secret smiles that had given Patton the courage to make this plan. He jiggled his leg and swallowed as nerves sent flutters of nausea through his belly. "Um, Janus?"

"Hm?"

"I mean," Patton started, "since we're stuck up here and everything."

"Don't remind me."

"I mean, you know, It's not all bad. If I have to be stuck at the top of a Ferris wheel, I'm glad it's with you. I… I'm glad it's us."

For a moment, Janus was silent. Then he said, in a tone of suspicion: "You're trying to cheer me up."

Patton sighed. As smart as Janus was, he just didn't seem to be putting the pieces together. Although, that was as much Patton's fault as it was Janus'. Well, it was mostly Patton's fault. He just had to be brave. "Look, Janus, I had this whole plan where we were gonna ride the Ferris wheel together and it was gonna pause at the top and while we were looking out over the fairground, I--" His breath hitched.

"...Was going to push me over the edge?" Janus asked.

"I was gonna do this." Rainbow lights from the Ferris wheel spokes danced across Janus' face. Patton leaned over and took his hands. "Janus, I really like you. And I want--"

"Yes," said Janus. "Whatever you're about to say, yes."

So Patton kissed him.

#queuing this for later today as well #i truly have no idea when you people are online #spicypost #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #moceit #logince #dukexiety #spicywrites

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warcats-cat · 2 years

Note

“Home” by Edith Whiskers

Patton

:] <3

Sorry if I ruined your song, @dillydallydove, but Hurt/Comfort will always be my main jam (Honestly just look at my writing tag it's all angst 😂) Thanks for the prompt tho!!!! ☺️💜💜

Also tagging @thecrowslullaby because they asked nicely 💜

Cross-Posted to Ao3 here.

Here is the song.

The Vibes I got on first listen:

Driving

Post breakup, but not really a breakup

Or someone who has been away a long time

Cliche dropping the mixing bowl on hearing news

Transitional, from childhood friends to a little more

Ambiguous Relationship?

I made it Moxiety. Because I love Moxiety. Enjoy 💜💜💜

They’d had fights before, but nothing like this. Not screaming until their throats were raw. Not frantically packing and driving off. Not radio silence for a week solid.

Patton ran his hand over the friendship bracelets on his wrist, feeling the worn strings and beads. The tv was on, murmuring and blinking quietly in the sunset light leaking through the window of his first floor apartment. There was a cup of hot chocolate on the little table they called a coffee table, long gone cold. Patton wasn’t sure if he had made it within the last 24 hours or not. It was just sitting there.

Like he was.

Maybe it was himself; Virgil needed someone calm, and stable. The other man was shy, fidgety. He struggled with anxiety and depression, and Patton couldn’t heal him with hugs alone. But Virgil was worth it.

Virgil was like fresh rain to Patton. He pushed Patton’s limits but also held him when he cried. Patton had his own issues with self-worth, constantly worried that he wasn’t as valuable as he could be in a relationship, platonic or otherwise. Virgil made Patton feel protected, almost worshiped at times. Patton tried to help Virgil feel grounded, safe from the threats of the outside world. Patton wanted nothing more than for Virgil to know how beautiful his soul was.

But he had pushed it too far.

The week previous had been tense; holidays looming over their heads, the question of whether they would host a little christmas get together with their friends. The apartment may not have been glamorous, but it was theirs, together. Patton tried so hard not to go overboard, to stay within Virgil’s boundaries, and in return Virgil was willing to meet in the middle and compromise.

Patton really didn’t know where the argument had come from; something about Patton being too clingy when Virgil needed space, or Virgil being distant and unwilling to open up when he was upset.

They both said things they would regret in an instant.

The regret didn’t matter in the moment.

Virgil was suddenly throwing any clothes and personal possessions he could reach into a duffel bag, overstuffing the poor thing and stomping out the door.

The force of his slamming the door made the walls shudder, and left the door cracked open instead of catching. It had probably sat open for a while after that, while Patton stared into space around him. He wished he could reset; see where the fight had stemmed from and stop it before it started. He wished he could take back what he said. He wished Virgil was still here.

Their relationship wasn’t new, but living together was. The closeness was. Maybe Virgil wasn’t happy with how little time he spent alone now. Maybe this would be it. It wasn’t their first argument but it certainly had been their loudest.

What if it was their last?

At some point, Logan had come over, and he must have shut the door. Patton could remember the other man talking, but none of the words. Just his calming, even tone. Whatever Logan had said was probably important, but it had washed over Patton like static.

And so Patton sat in the dark, staring into nothing. Mind as blank as a fresh sheet of paper.

A sharp ring broke the silence.

Patton almost didn’t answer it, but the doorbell was being so loud, it almost hurt after so long spent in the stillness. It was probably Logan again, or Roman, coming to check on them. He wondered if they had gotten ahold of Virgil yet. He wondered if they would leave if he just didn’t move.

The bell didn’t let up, a constant, almost frantic heartbeat of noise. Burning his ears. He shook his head as if that would wake him from his own stupor, and finally stood to answer it. His legs and back protested the movement after who-knows-how-long. He waddled over to the door, unlocked the latch, and swiftly opened it.

Before he could say anything, something tackled him full speed.

Patton toppled over in an instant, unready and unable to withstand the force. As he hit the carpet, he realized the thing was taller than him, purple and black and desperately hugging onto him.

Virgil.

Virgil was sobbing into his chest, grabbing Patton so tight he felt like a child’s teddy bear during a thunderstorm. Patton wasn’t fully sure what to do with his hands, so stunned to see his partner after so long without. Virgil was muttering something over and over as well, but Patton wasn’t certain he could understand.

Finally, the spell broke, and Patton grabbed Virgil equally as tight, beginning to cry himself. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, they both chanted, holding and rocking and shushing each other. The floor wasn’t comfortable, and Patton felt a little squished under Virgil’s taller frame, but he wouldn’t move for the world.

Virgil was finally home.

They could figure this out.

They would be ok.

#warcats writes #warcats answers #sanders sides #moxiety #sanders sides fic #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts patton #ts virgil #angst #hurt comfort #angst with a happy ending #hopeful ending #Writing Challenges #dove friend

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trashyswitch · 3 years

Text

The Real Reasoning Behind All of This

Pocket is getting sick and tired of the pressure that comes with writing fanfics. So, she starts to imagine the characters she's written about, and imagines what advice they would give her and what comforting strategies they would use. And as she predicted, lots of tickles!

Pocket was growling and throwing her phone around the room. So many expectations. So many ideas given to her. She has no excuse to not write now. But she just didn’t. Want to.

She hated when she felt like this. It felt like she was letting everyone down by not pushing herself to fucking write. She knew Shannon was fine with the no writing, but were others okay with it?! Probably not.

She walked up to the fridge and was about to reach for a smirnoff.

[Alcohol doesn’t solve problems]

[Alcohol will make your life miserable]

[It’s a fake high, Pocket.]

[SUGAR]

Pocket angrily closed the fridge and grabbed some chocolate covered almonds instead. She didn’t wanna do the work...It was so much work...She hated waiting for the moments she got into hyper focus. That was the only way she would get her fanfics done at a reasonable time. She relied on those hyper focus episodes. Perhaps if she skipped out on her ADHD med, she would have more energy to do the work. But nope...The adhd med is supposed to help her focus. But the ADHD med drained all her energy. Every time she missed her pill, she would wind up with extra energy. She would be filled with adrenaline. It felt like a sugar high...Or a buzz.

Pocket had recently figured out that a buzz from alcohol was very similar to ADHD adrenaline rushes. It was a fun little fact that she found to be very interesting and yet...disappointing. Finding out the truth meant she didn’t need alcohol to experience happiness. But skipping the ADHD meds couldn’t be the answer to all her problems. There were benefits to her pill. There were days that she didn’t want to be a ball of energy. There were days that she wanted to lounge. And that pill allowed her to do that without issue.

So is being drunk like having ADHD? Maybe for her. But is ADHD like being drunk all the time without the hangover?

Who. Knows.

Pocket looked down at her dog and smiled. She was laying against her leg with her back upwards towards the ceiling. She looked like a loaf of burnt toast...with a bandana tied around her neck. She was a sleepy girl...A fun girl...A cute widdle bean. And definitely a somft girl.

Pocket began to stare off into space as she stared at the white screen on her laptop. Nothing to write...nothing.

Why was she like this? Why is she here? Why can’t she write right now?

Snoring doggo. She snores a lot.

“Hey Kiddo…” Someone said beside her.

She turned to the left, and smiled. “Hi Patton.”

“Why so down?” He asked.

“I can’t write worth my life.” She complained.

“Well, no matter what you think about your writing, I always support you and will help you when things go wrong.” Patton told her. “So tell me: What’s going wrong?” He asked.

Pocket looked down. “I have no motivation left…”

Patton nodded. “Well, you did go through a phase of writing nonstop for tickletober…” Patton reminded her.

Pocket nodded. “Yup...I just want a little more motivation left over and interest. That’s all I ask.” Pocket told him.

Patton nodded. “And motivation, you’ll get again eventually. Now is just not the time.” Patton reminded him.

“Maybe it’s time I changed what I did again…” Pocket thought.

“Changing your way of doing things, is only going to upset the 400 or so followers that you have.” Someone else said.

Pocket looked over to her right. It was William Afton.

“I know…” Pocket muttered.

“Maybe the problem is, you’re too much of a ler to play the lee.” William offered.

“Well...I’m certainly too ler to be a switch…” Pocket mentioned.

“Also, when are you gonna change your status to ‘ler’ instead of ‘switch’?” William asked.

“When are you gonna stop being manipulative?” Pocket asked the murderer in the room.

“T...Touche.” William replied as he faded away.

Soon, another person appeared. ‘Take some time for yourself. It’s what Shannon wants.’ THe person signed.

Pocket looked over and smiled brightly. It was Jamie!

“Hi Jamie!” She greeted him.

‘Hello!’ Jamie replied.

“Getting to be the time to watch your halloween video again.” Pocket mentioned.

‘Happy halloween!’ Jamie signed happily.

Pocket repeated the signs for ‘happy halloween’. She had taken a sign language course before, and learned Sign Language in her own spare time.

“I know exactly what Pocket needs! But only if you want it.” Patton offered.

Pocket smiled brightly. She knew exactly what he was talking about.

“Yes.” Pocket smiled.

‘Wow! You quick!’ Jamie signed.

“I’ll say!” Patton reacted.

William appeared again .“Let’s get to it then. I’m not patient when it comes to tickling.” William said.

“Alright!” Patton ran to her hips and started digging. “Just tell me-”

“BAAAHAHAHAHAHA!” Pocket yelled, laughing hysterically already.

“WOW! I must’ve hit the jackpot!” Patton reacted.

“I’ll say...She’s already a mess of laughter.” William reacted.

“MYHYHYHY HIHIHIPS AHAHARE THE WOHOHORST!” She laughed.

“You kidding me? You’ve got fuckin’ Shakira hips goin’ here.” William reacted.

Jamie hummed silently as he thought long and hard on where else to tickle…

Then he remembered that bellies exist!

Jamie smiled and started skittering his quick fingers on her belly.

“EEEEHehehehehehe! NOHOHohohoho!” She was pushing the arms away and kicking wildly.

“Awww, de poor widdle baby can’t handle de tickles!” Patton teased.

William looked up at Patton. “Is that seriously how you talk to people?” William asked.

“No!” Patton responded, rather offended. Then his face switched to a smirk. “Only when I’m teasing.”

William looked...rather terrified of the face change.

“GUHUHUHUYS! PLEHEHEHEHEHEASE!” Pocket begged.

“Oh yeah…” William muttered.

Patton placed a hand on William’s shoulder. “William, William, William…” He said to him politely. “She loves this.”

Jamie raised an eyebrow. ‘Pocket kicking and pleading.’ Jamie mentioned.

Patton smiled and stopped tickling Pocket. William looked down and stopped tickling as well.

Pocket’s laughter turned to giggles and started lessening to huffs.

But then…

“Why…...why did you stop?” She asked.

William blinked and widened his eyes. “Because breathing is important.”

Patton giggled. “Told ya! I know a lee when I see one~” Patton teased.

William blushed at that and looked away.

Jamie looked at William’s blush out of the corner of his eye, and smirked. He rubbed his hands together and tickled William’s sides.

“WHOAHAHAHAHA! WHOHOHOHO-” William scooted himself away from the random tickle monster that was tickling him, and turned to see Jamie in the same spot he was in. “Oh...It was you.”

Jamie wiggled his fingers with a smirk from both the lips and the mustache.

“Uh oh…” William got himself up onto his feet and started running. Jamie wasn’t far behind him as he chased Will around the room.

Pocket watched this whole thing and giggled. It was so funny seeing the most innocent man chasing the murderer for tickles around her room.

“Now: Let’s get this lee mood dealt with.” Patton decided.

Patton started tickling Pocket again and specifically focused on the sides and belly this time. Pocket laughed and giggled as she kicked her feet and flailed her arms around all over again.

“OHohohohoho nohohohoho! Pahahahahahat!” Pocket laughed.

“Yessss?” Patton replied.

“Ihihihit tihihihicklehehes!” Pocket laughed.

OHOHO SHIHIHIT- HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!” Someone else shouted.

Patton stopped tickling and turned around. As it would turn out, Jamie had already caught William and was now tickling the man.

“IHIHIHI- WHAHAHAHAT’S YOHOHOUR NAHAHAHAME AHAHAHAGAHAHAIN?! JAHAHAHACK??” William asked.

Jamie widened his eyes, stopped tickling him and completely lost himself in laughter. This man couldn’t even bother to remember his name right?! Wow! It’s a wonder he kept a business afloat for as long as he did!

Pocket smiled and enjoyed watching Jamie laugh his head off. It was nice to be able to imagine these characters.

“Alright. One more tickle attack, then I’m all done!” Patton decided.

Pocket nodded and opened her arms to him. Patton happily took it and tried tickling her ribs next. He started at the bottom ribs.

“EEEHEHEHE!” Pocket laughed before collapsing to the floor. It would seem that Pocket was SUPER ticklish on her lower ribs!

Patton tried moving upwards.

“PAHAHAhahahahat! Hahahahahehehe!” She laughed.

“Ooooh! Not so ticklish on your middle ribs, huh?” Patton said out loud.

“Nohohoho...Just thehehe bohohottom rihihibs.” Pocket replied.

“Good to know!” Patton started digging into her bottom ribs and focusing on the spot between the ribs too.

“BAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! NAHAHAHAHAHA!” Pocket laughed.

Patton slowed his fingers down and stopped pushing as hard. “Your laughter...is so much different when you’re tickled! Are you faking your laugh often?” Patton asked.

“Nohoho...Ihihi juhuhust hahahave dihihifferent tihihickle lahahaughter.” Pocket told him.

“Well, good to know! I’m happy to know you’re not forcing yourself to laugh.” Patton replied.

Patton took a moment or two to look at the progress between William and Jamie. As one would probably expect, William was now getting his revenge on Jamie! And while the tickling wasn’t producing much of a laughter sound, Jamie was certainly making wheezes and visual reactions.

‘Stop stop stop stop stop!’ Jamie kept signing.

“Why would I stop? You’re clearly loving this!” William reacted.

Patton laughed at that. “Yohou’re not wrong about that.” Patton confirmed for him.

“See?” William smiled and continued to tickle Jamie for a little longer before stopping to let him breathe.

“Not so bad for a lee, huh Jamie?” William teased.

Jamie flipped him off as a response.

Aaaand that earned Jamie even more tickles.

Pocket was helped up by Patton and was given a big bear hug. “Thank you Patton.” She told him.

“No problem, Kiddo!” Patton replied.

“And thank you William and Jamie!” Pocket said next.

‘You’re welcome! Love you!’ Jamie signed.

“Glad to help kid. And for the love of god, take a break.” William ordered. “You deserve it.”

Pocket watched as the characters faded out of existence. Pocket smiled to herself, feeling a lot better. She wasn’t really motivated from the experience, but she did feel a little more inspired again. She felt like she had a better grasp of why she did these fanfics in the first place: To just have fun. And sometimes, the fun will feel like a chore...but that’s okay. It’ll get better.

Now to get these new, fresh ideas into motion before she forgets!

But quickly, a little sentence popped into her head:

[“For the love of god, take a break.”]

Yeah...Maybe he’s right. She didn’t really feel motivated to get anything more going yet. She just felt...super inspired with no energy to make it.

The brain was too tired to do what the heart wanted.

So, Pocket grabbed her laptop, turned on some Lo-fi music and decided to take a nap.

[“You deserve it.”]

This might be my last fanfic before Tickletober rolls around. So, I hope you enjoyed it!

#sanders sides #five nights at freddy's #jse egos #fan animation #original female character #fluff #ticklefic #ler!jamie #ler!patton #lee!pocket #lee!william #very personal fanfic

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kanene-yaaay · 3 years

Text

You’re going to tickle me first, right?

Kanene’s note: One day I will carefully plan beforehand a title. But that day is noooot today! sdfghjfrgtyujikdfgh.

I consider this the last story from that idea of lers + lees in more different scenarios. I already did all the sides and I am very proud of the results! Thankys for all the support <3333

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* This characters don’t belongs to me! They all belong to Sanders Sides!

* This is a SFW tickle fanfic, so, if you don’t appreciate this kind of content, please, look for another blog. There are a plenty of fabulous arts in this site!! ^w^)b

* This is Ticklish!Logan with Ler!Patton and Remus. Their relationship can be viewed as romantic or platonic. Around 2.300 words.

* Some fabulous works that inspired me with the idea and the teases (they’re from bnha)

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any and every advice is very very welcome! \(-w-)/

* Take some time to remember about the litol cool things that you saw today! Fanfic, series, movies, a bird or a beautiful flower... anything that maded u happy! Drink water, sleep and eat! Today is another day and I’m proud that we’re both still here.

[~*~]

"Looking good, hot stuff." Arms hugged him from behind and Logan scoffed, as usual when confronted by feelings, behind his cup of coffee, drinking the remains of the liquid in a few gulps as he relaxed on the warm chest behind him. The morning was quiet and Patton’s humming on the kitchen was one of the few sounds that cut the air. Logan let his attention swim back to his book when the other began to nuzzle his neck, a small 'tsk' escaping between a tiny smile when his mustache hit a sweet spot on his shoulder.

They both knew what that meant, after all, Remus wasn’t fond on keeping a subtle demeanor and they already had played this exact game thousands of times before.

"Remus..."

"Tickle me, Logan!" The pout was crystal clear on his voice, discarding the need of the other adult to turn back to notice it. "It’s been almost a week since last time! And. I. Need. My. Daily. Doses of. Tickles."

Logan growled, ignoring the amused crackle behind him and instead focusing on hiding his now complete red face on one of his hands, the other tightly gripping his book and depositing it on the tabletop in front of him. "How can you say this so nonchalantly?" It was his almost inaudible muffled whisper.

"Because watching you become a blushy-blushed mess is sooo fun. ~"

Another nuzzle, Logan scrunched his neck, containing his reactions.

"Now, now, Re. Teasing Logan about how he is the most adorably-adorable bumblebee when he gets all blush-y and soft-y about tickling isn't very nice." Patton chirped from his spot, almost finished from doing the dishes, since the most serious of their group had been responsible for their breakfast and Remus would be making their dinner today. He could even pass as being very serious if it wasn’t for the smirk on his features betraying his words. "You know he can't stand hearing the word tickle. Or tickling. Or tickly."

"Or ticklish, or tiggle, or even tickle, tickle, tickle-"

In a smooth, quick movement, Logan turned his body, now being the one encircling the taller waist with his arms, fingers clawing on his sides, but not moving. Yet.

"That is enough of you, squeaky toy."

And Remus knew that just their previous playful banter had been more than enough to prompt Logan to get some revenge.

However…

Seeing him like this was just too much fun.

His eyes glinted, a grin expanding on his face. "He is sooo flustered. Pat! Look at him! Isn't he adorable?"

"I know, right!" Patton squealed in delight at the tiny, infinitesimal smile showing on the most serious one, ignoring Logan's grunt as he tried to hide his face in Remus' shoulder, grumbling something about teases and stupid, confident friends "But we can't be mean with him, sweetpea. Even if he is so precious and full of such beautiful reactions that makes us want to tease him over and over and over again." He whispered the last part, as if he was sharing a secret and the person they were talking about wasn't dying in the middle of their room.

"Even his ears are red, now!!" Remus also lowered his voice, blowing a light steam of air on them as he talked. "You're the one being mean to me.” Logan more felt than saw Remus pointing a finger accusingly to the other, “telling me I can't tease him even knowing he will be all helpless and shy and cute.”

"I would like to state that I hate you."

"Shhh, Lo-lo! We're whispering! Which means you can't hear us."

Snickers floated freely in the air. Logan’s warning jab at Remus’ side only made part of them evolve to amused crackles.

"I am literally between you two, unless you talk in a language I do not master nor understand I can very much process the exact meaning of what you're pronouncing."

They giggled harder. Logan's scoff deepened, he tried to untangle himself from the hold and walk away to the security of his room and his valorous notebooks where he could carefully think and plan a very special, tickly revenge for both, but a soft kiss on his flaming cheeks placated his impulse, - although not his mostly dramatic scoff and roll of eyes.

"Patton!!!!” The one wearing a green pajama whined as if the world was ending and he was not the one to blame because of that, drops of fake-sadness dripping on his tune. “He is even pouting!”

"FALSEHOOD!"

“That is not fair!! Not. Fair."

"Okay, okay, my dear.” Patton gave in, calm words. Logan looked smugly at Remus, who was now in the hold of the pout.

“You can tease him more, but just a little."

Logan squeaked when Remus triumphally shoved his face on his neck, working his way across the spot, mustache tickling and itching, until he was able to deliver a couple of nibbles right under his chin, drinking up the muffled yelps and snickers that that caused.

Patton's gentle voice hit his ears just as he threw his head back in an attempt to escape the attack. "Just say 'glasses’ and we stop, okay?"

Remus didn't say anything, although he stopped his attack, a hand finding his and squeezing reassuringly. The shorter smiled, a warmth flooding on his chest and pouring out of it in the way softness found the corner of his eyes, immediately hiding any hint of it on Remus' shoulder and nodding. Quiet, mumbled words.

"Green."

“Aw, what is the matter? Not so serious now, are we?” Remus purred, each word vibrating on his skin. “What a shame, what a shame, what a sad end for our rational, professional nerd boy. Just a few tickles here,” he quickly pinched the other’s thigh, making the arms tight around his waist, consequently pulling him closer, “some attention there,” nails found and traced whatevers on the length of his lower back, “a couple of teases and tickles aaand then you’re already all defeated. Aww, my poor, poor, sensitive ler. ~”

His confident tone was broken by a squeal when the fingers resting on his sides squeezed that spot, wiggling for a few seconds before stopping, enough for the taller to try to squirm away, only to find himself well stuck on the arms securing him in the same place. His gaze found danger on Logan’s glare.

“Oh,” shivers ran his spine, “is that so?” Another squeak flew from him when the fingers curled, nails grazing the ticklish skin. “Please, care to elaborate?”

Remus' excitement was written over his entire face. He began to bounce, however his giddy energy was controlled enough for him to be able to lower his head, a shit eating grin plastered on his lips, hands locking behind the other’s neck, exposing even more the spots on his torso.

"Do your worst, my ler. ~"

“Gasp! Lo-lo!” Logan blinked and, oh, when he opened his eyes Patton was on his vision field, with an adorable pout and arms crossed. “I can’t believe you’re going to tickle him first. I thought I was your favorite Gigglebug!”

Another grunt escaped from his lips. That was it. Logan was done.

“Patton…” He warned, mind already running to how to turn the tables before he got caught on their teases again.

“You’re definitely our favorite gigglebug, Pattycake.” Remus nodded, extending one of his arms behind him and pulling Patton swiftly when they locked their hands, succeeding in making them both sandwich the taller in a hug. He danced his fingers on the other’s neck, making his pout disappear in a soft huff. “Buuut, I have the best snorts and squeals here. So, sorry not sorry, it seems like I will be getting all the tickles today.”

“No, no!” Patton quickly jumped in on the playful demeanor, smiling and clinging on Logan from behind, bubbly giggles already escaping from his mouth. “My ler!!” He nuzzled between his shoulder blades, the sudden move leading the coffee-addicted one to arch his back, a silent gasp escaping from his lips.

“You are both being ridicuLOUS-” His voice hitched as Patton focused on a rather… sensitive spot on his back, too much next to his ribs and not away enough from his spine. “P-p-patton. Sssstop!”

Unfortunately, the fact of him holding the wrists of the hands resting peacefully under his armpits, trying to pry Patton away also meant he wasn’t paying nearly enough attention to the dangerous gleam surging on Remus’ eyes, nor the way his hands clawed in the air for a few seconds before descending on Logan’s hips, fishing a surprised shriek.

“REMUS!”

The aforementioned only smirked, thumbs digging on the ticklish flesh with ease, batting his eyelashes when Logan's awareness turned back at him, legs trying to kick himself away as his body squirmed in despair with the unexpected ruthless attack. “You’re going to tickle me first, right, nerd?”

“No!!” The adult didn’t even get a chance to answer before kisses were being deposited on the sides of his neck, an index finger tickling that exact spot where it connected with his back, switching between encircling the spot to lightly scribble, scribble, scribble right on the middle on it, being careful to not let a single inch unattended. “I am the first! You’re such an amazing, lovely and good Ler, Logan! I won’t even cover my face this time! All the giggles and laughter and smiles just for you, cutiepants.”

“Well, with me,” he highlighted the word by energetically scratching his others, previous free, fingers on his sides, delighted with the way the shorter’s laughter improved with it, “we can play all the tickle, tickly games he wants to! Hands up, Countdown, Don’t Smile, How Much Minutes Can You Endure… You name it, hot mess.”

And a mess he was, indeed. Especially when Patton decided to pull his shirt up, slowly spidering his hands under the fabric, a tingly sensation following his path, and giggling as he prodded his way up to skitter his long, absurdly, horribly, amazingly long nails on the back of his ribs, sending shivers and tingles non stop on his torso. Both attackers cooing in synchrony as guffaws and squeaks started to paint his frantic laughter.

“Lo-lo, don’t listen to him! I can help you to sing those nice, cute nursery rhymes that you like so much, remember? I love when we sing them together because you’re so great, smart and mean about it! Always doing things like crawling your fingers up, up, up, our ribs…” he punctuated his sentences by doing exactly what he described, “and then running them aaaaaall their way back to the sides!”

“Wait!! Damn! Wait, please, wahahahait!”

“Or when he discovers a new, horrible, unbearable spot,” Remus ignored the series of ‘nonono’s from the ‘victim’ as he focused two fingers on the patch of skin above his bellybutton, poking and pinching there, his free hand holding down the wrist that shoot in order to stop him “and he focuses all his attention on it, being sure to thoroughly tickle it and to remember us that we can wiggle and giggle all we want because we do absolutely nothing to stop it.”

“And also, how much we love all of this! All the attention,” Patton kissed behind his left ear, traveling to the other with small raspberries when Logan clued it on his shoulder, shaking his head, “all the care,” kiss “all the teases,” a big raspberry “all the tickles,” a series of tender, soft pecks along his cheeks and ears “and how much happy that makes us feel!!”

“And the best part? We will go on and on tickling you for hours and hours until we are all satisfied.”

“I can’t! I cahahan’t!”

“Yup!! We will just stay riiight here, giving you all the kitty kitty coo’s and coothie coothie coo’s you could ever want until we ask us to stop, okay? So, you just relax and enjoy it, Logie-bear.”

“Plehehease!”

“Tickle, tickle, tickle, nerd. What with that smile? Can’t take what you like to dish out? Tsk, such a pity, really. You know what is even greater, though? You can beg, you can say you’re sorry, you can promise to do anything we want but that won’t work. Do you know why?” Logan shook his head, a smile plastered on his face. “Because there is no reason for me to be doing this other than see you get tickled to pieces.”

“Oh no, my dear, it seems like the tickle monsters got you! Isn’t that amazing? Having two lovely monsters who knows all your melt, fluff spots giving you exactly what you love? Knowing precisely what to do or what to say to make you a cute, adorable puddle of laughter and giggles that you so much love and crave to be? Huh? You absolutely love this, don’t you, my blushy bear?”

“Enough! Enough!” Logan’s legs gave up, and in between his wheezing laughter, his yelps, squeaks and pleas a breathless ‘glasses’ made itself known, leading the tickling to a stop and to the three of them to lay carefully on the kitchen’s floor. Happy chuckles filling the silence.

Silence.

“So, did you choose which one of us you will tickle first?”

“Actually, Pat-Pat, I think we make a great team.”

Patton flung himself to the other, hugging him with a squeal. Remus couldn’t help but to reciprocate the touch, cooing over his excitement. “We do!!”

“I agree.” Maybe it was how much closer and lower Logan’s voice was, or because of the thousands of memories that tune brought that made both froze so instantly, goosebumps traveling across their bodies with shots of adrenaline. “And I am sure you will make a much more endearing one, with matching helpless laughter and excited smiles, when I catch you. ‘When’ and not ‘if’, because I will find and catch you two, my ticklish lees. And when we are all reunited I am certain you will love all the ideas and experiments I have for you.” They slowly turned back, joyful expressions as their gaze found the malefic, playful glint shining along with the slightly blush on the Logan’s face.

“You have five seconds.”

Patton grabbed Remus’ hand, pulling them up.

“Run.”

#:D #Honestly I saw the idea of tickling the ler until they tickle you back and this is just so mind blow I had to write something #asdfghjdfghjfghj #Logan being a shy ler is my everything #Remus and Patton woke up and choose violence/j #Ler!Patton #Ler!Remus #Lee!Logan #welll.. kind of #Ticklish!Logan #Sanders Sides tickles #Sanders Sides tickling #Kanene's fanfic #Kanene's fic #one day I will post this idea without feeling silly but that day is not today sdfghjdfrghyuj. I am proud of this tho <3 #mouth tickles #raspberries e tickly kisses #rough and light tickles

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ifeellikeameowster · 3 years

Text

Raise Hell - Creativitwins and Darkside!Roman Fic

Fic Summary: After a brooding session in his room after the events of SVS2, Roman decides Fuck It! and visits his brother Remus' room. As the two brothers reconnect, Roman ends up making a startling decision.

Warnings: Roman Angst, Self Loathing, Self Deprecating, Darkside!Roman, Gore, Violence, Weapons, Sexual Innuendos (Basically Remus just being Remus)

Pairings: None!

Wordcount: 7k+ (almost 8k)

Author's Note:

I started writing this fic immediately after SVS2 so it's canon complacent until after that, where it branches off into this AU! This was before both Flirting With Social Anxiety and Working Through Intrusive Thoughts came out, so please just consider this an alternate "What If?" scenario! (Also this just goes to show you how much I procrastinate when it comes to writing whoops lol.)

Roman sat curled up on his bed. Sitting in the same position that he had been for the past two days or so. He couldn't exactly recall how long he had been there holed up in his room, actually.

The only thing he could recall was the disappointed looks on their faces, their harsh words whether intentional or not, and the feeling of his whole world seemingly crumbling down around him. It was all too much too soon, and after his outburst he had sunken into a numb state of suspension. Waiting to feel anything other than anger, grief, and disappointment. All three of which were mainly pointed dangerously at his own self like a bunch of daggers repeatedly striking where they knew it would hurt most.

Patton had stopped by shortly after he had first sunk out, yes. But Roman could hardly hear what the fatherly side was saying to him over the ringing in his ears and his own rapid heartbeat constantly reminding him it had been recently struck through. Something about everything being okay, he thinks? Yet how could Patton have said that when absolutely nothing was okay right now? In fact, he doubted anything could be okay ever again. Not after…well, after he had apparently messed up again.

It was starting to become a habit now, all of these stupid mistakes. And how could such a perfect prince as him make such mistakes? He was supposed to be a paragon of perfection! An idol for all aspiring heroes alike! The pinnacle of heroism and all that is good in the world! Instead he was just...just wrong. Always wrong. Always wrong no matter who's side he took or who he believed in or what he said or didn't say. Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong.

But if he wasn't a perfect prince...if he wasn't a hero...if he wasn't right...then what exactly was he? What was left? Well, nothing, really. He had put all of his eggs in one basket and now the littlest breeze had apparently sent it toppling over.

Wait a minute...If he had nothing left, then that meant he had nothing left to lose, right? Which meant all of his old restrictions on himself, all of his walking the fine line and all of him staying on the right side of the fence- All of it was meaningless. It was doing nothing, just like him.

He slowly unfurled his body from it's curled up position and turned his gaze towards the closet on the far side of his room. The door was dingier compared to the rest of the elegant and ornately designed bedroom. Scratch marks marred its greyed, wooden surface and a sign was tapped loosely and half-hazardly to the middle. "Danger: Nightmare Zone. Keep out!" It read in bright red lettering.

"Keep out, huh...I must have been really mad when I wrote that." Roman glanced down to his hands, which he had clenched. "But now I'm just empty...so what's the use in obeying a stupid sign that I put up there myself?" He unfisted his hands and looked back to the imposing closet door. "What could be more dangerous in there than staying here and stewing in my own thoughts?"

He slowly stood up, his legs tingling from being in one position for far too long. He made his way over to the closet door. Slowly. Cautiously. Glancing over his shoulder as if someone was going to walk in on him at any moment. As his hand grasped the handle, he felt himself gulp. Did he really want to do this?

"…"

Well, what else was there to do?

He pushed the door open and stepped into the closet full of old clothes. All of his new princely adornments were actually being stored in a mahogany wardrobe beside his nightstand. These clothes were...they belonged to...Well, someone who didn't exist. At least not anymore. He pushed his way through dusty and moth-bitten clothes as if he was pushing through the undergrowth of a dense jungle. As he neared his destination, the place grew darker and smelled more and more of mold.

He finally arrived at another door. This one was more well kept than the last, with golden trimmings and an intricate door handle. He took a deep breath to steal his nerves before pushing it open.

He stepped out into another bedroom. This one had moss in the corners, cobwebs on the ceiling, and ivy climbing it's walls. Even still, it was much tidier than he had been expecting. It gave off more of a wild feeling rather than a dirty one. Just as he was about to take another step to inspect further, there was a mace in his face.

He hadn't even flinched back, he was so tired and dazed. Roman sucked in a nervous breath and looked to the wielder of the weapon.

Remus was standing frozen in place, his face flickering between emotions. Eyes twitching. It appeared like he had intended to knock him out again...just like last time in the living room...but something must have made him pause.

"You've been crying." He hissed, less of a question and more of an accusation.

Roman blinked, confused, before reaching up to poke the skin underneath his eyes. Sure enough, it was puffy. He bet if he looked in a mirror they'd be red-rimmed as well. But he didn't even want to see his own face right now. He huffed out in irritation. "So what if I have?"

Remus' face flickered once more before settling into a firm stare as he slowly lowered his morning star mace away from Roman's head. He was being oddly still and slow in his motions, and the difference between this and his usual rambunctiousness was making Roman's skin crawl with nerves. "Why?"

"Why?" Roman repeated after him, bristling, "Why do you even care why?"

Remus blinked, seeming to come out of his previous mood. "You tell me Prince Smarmy! You came into my turf." He rested his mace behind his shoulders and started rocking back and forth on the heels of his boots.

"I…" Roman's gaze fell to the ground. "I don't know. It's just the last place I could go, I guess?" He shrugged before waving a dramatic arm, "But if you don't want me here either, then just say it to my face!"

Remus tilted his head curiously before leaning forward "Oh, I can do way better than that, brohide." And with that, he snapped his fingers and the room flipped upside down.

Roman gasped as they fell through the air. The room seemed to twist and morph around them. Until finally, he had landed roughly on his own fluffy white floor rug. Remus, however, had fallen through the fancy canopy of his bed. Tearing a large hole through it and landing in a heap on the covers.

"Hey, my bed!" He shouted, offended beyond belief.

"Oh tough titty." Remus chastised as he picked up a golden laced, red silk pillow. He started plucking at it's loose threads. "I bet you have a ton of those ugly tent things."

"They're called canopies, you uncultured swine!"

Roman got up in a huff and dusted off and straightened his rumpled clothes. He sent a glare over to Remus as he did so. "Why'd you do that?"

"Do what?~" He sing-songed annoyingly back.

"Teleport us in such an unruly manner!"

"Hmmm…" He flopped over on to his back and started doing snow angel motions. "Why'd you go in my room?~Huh? Huh?"

"Wha- I- I asked you first!"

"I asked you second!!" He rolled over on the bed to grin up at Roman, still clutching the poor, abused pillow.

"Ugh, fine!" Roman threw his hands up in the air and moved to grab his vanity chair. He pulled it over to sit in front of the bed. "I just didn't want to be in my own room right now, okay??"

Remus frowned with pursed lips and sat up, scooching forward on the bed. "But it's your room, numbnuts."

"Well maybe I don't want to be near me right now…Um, wait. That doesn't make any sense, does it?"

"Probably not! But-" He cupped a hand over his mouth and loudly whispered conspiratorially, "I can rip your head off your body and throw it to the side for you so you're not close to it anymore?"

"No that's...That's not what I meant and you know it!"

"Fucking party pooper!" Remus threw his hands up then abandoned the pillow he had been holding to riffle curiously through the rest. "Do you not keep a dagger under your pillow??"

"What? No, of course not! Who would do that?"

"Me, duh! For security reasons, bitch boy."

"Well I'm obviously more sensible than that. I keep swords under the bed like a sane person."

"Wait, really?!" Remus threw himself over the side of the bed to look underneath it. "Holy shit, nice!" He rustled through them for a moment before grabbing a sleek black flamberge by it's blade and pulling it up. "I'm keeping this!"

"I would protest that but you've already gotten your filthy blood all over it and that sword is a particular bitch to clean."

"Sibling souvenir!" Proclaimed Remus as he stabbed it into his stomach for safe keeping.

"What on earth are you doing? Why would you stab yourself??"

"To make sure it doesn't go anywhere! Oh, and to test it's stabby powers."

"You know in hindsight, I shouldn't have even asked."

"Speaking of askings of questions-ing, why did you visit my room of all places? Needed to get rid of some trash? Because I'm taking if you're offering. I could always use more decorations!"

"Remus, you rat bastard, I saw that your room was cleaner than you let people believe it to be. If you did take any of my trash you'd probably organize it into the proper bins and everything."

Remus gasped and put an offended hand over his chest. "How dare you! My room is perfectly and gloriously trashy and stinky, just like me."

"Mhmm, sure it is."

A shuriken flew past the side of his head and embedded itself right in the face of one of his many Disney posters.

"Just answer my question!!"

"Okay, okay jeez!" Roman raised his hands placatingly before dropping them to grip at his knees nervously. "I, well, I didn't want to be alone anymore…"

"And? You couldn't just visit the other lamo light bitches in the living-dead room?"

"They, um." He sighed before looking over at his posters. Prince Charming smiled brightly back at him, even with a weapon digging into his forehead. "They don't want to be around me. They don't want me. Not anymore. If they ever did. They have him, after all. Both of them."

"Him. Them. Stop playing the pronoun game already and get fucking on with it!"

"He has Janus now! Thomas chose Janus! Patton chose Janus! They chose Janus! They both chose Janus...over me…" Roman blurted out. The words were spilling out now, unstoppable. He sniffled as he felt the tears threatening to fall once more as well. He didn't even realize he had any left to cry. "I chose Thomas. Thomas chose Patton. Patton chose Janus. No one ever chooses me! No one ever takes my side!"

"Apparently, I'm always the one in the wrong..." He ran his shaky hands over his cheeks, desperately trying to push any tears that appeared away. To keep them from falling anymore. Hadn't he cried enough? "I was wrong about Virgil. I was wrong with how I talked to Logan. I was wrong about the breakup. I was wrong about the wedding. Now I was wrong about Deceit- no, Janus- ugh...Everything I do is wrong!"

He lowered his hands again to dig his fingers back into his knees. Roman drew in another shaky breath, trying to calm himself after the outburst. He glanced nervously up at Remus to gauge his reaction to his brother's crazed rambles.

Remus had leaned forward to hear him better over his sobs and shaky voice, almost tipping over the edge of the bed. He had his nails digging into Roman's comforter, and Roman was afraid he was about to rip holes into it. He already had a canopy to replace after all, he didn't want to have to replace that as well! They stared at each other in tense silence for a few moments more, one at a loss on what to say next and the other trying to process the onslaught of new information. Finally, Remus let go of the comforter, slid off the bed, and sat on the floor in front of him with his legs splayed out.

"So what you're saying is...wait, Jan Jan the Banana Man actually told you his name?"

"Well, he more so told Thomas and Patton it and...I just happened to be there too?"

"Huh. Never thought he'd tell anyone else. Well, not after Virgil…was Virgil there?"

"No. Unfortunately Virgil wasn't there to back me up. If he would have even taken my side at all...And Logan was...there in textbox spirit?"

"What'd nerd-a-lerd say?"

"He…well, I wasn't really paying much attention to- I was panicking okay! But I heard enough." He looked to the side, feeling shame well up in himself again. "Enough to know that he was taking his side, just like everyone else."

He heard a mumbled "Damn pronoun name again-" before Remus clapped his hands together with a loud boom that echoed through the large room. "Okay! And I can't believe I'm saying this but- tell me the whole story. Top dick to bottom butt."

"Ew." Roman wrinkled his nose up in disgust.

"Just tell me already!!" Annnddd another shuriken whizzed past his head. This time it embedded itself in his dresser. He hoped it hadn't cracked the wood too much...

Thus Roman spun the entire tale, starting at Janus' first appearance and ending with the absolute fiasco between the callback and the wedding that had occurred a couple of days ago...or had it been several? Time had muddied itself in his reclusion. He would take several breaks in his storytelling to go off on self-deprecating tangents that sounded an awful lot like dramatic monologues from some tragic play. More often than not these tangents were cut short by Remus, who would hurry them along with crude nicknames and threats to get back to the main story.

Somehow during this storytelling process both of the brothers had ended up splayed out side by side on top of Roman's fluffy white floor rug. As if they were kids gossiping on the floor at a sleepover. Remus had busied his hands by pulling out locks of the fur from the rug while Roman's own hands gesticulated wildly with the ups and downs of his tale. As he neared the end of the story, Roman curled up to lay on his side so he could face Remus and see his reaction.

"...and then I decided to go to your room. Because I had nowhere else to go. I didn't want to stay in my room with my own thoughts any longer...but I didn't want to see any of the other sides, either."

Remus was laying on his stomach, fiddling with the rug and swaying his feet in the air. At hearing the last bit, his feet fell back down to rest on the floor. "...But you wanted to see me?" His voice was the softest Roman had ever heard him speak. It was incredulous and almost...hopeful.

"I-I don't know. I-" Roman diverted his eyes across the room, sweeping over the damage done by them earlier and eventually landing on the dingy and scratched up closet door. He stared at it for a moment in thought before looking back over to Remus. "Do you ever…Ever miss sharing a bedroom?" He murmured.

Remus wrinkled his nose and glared at him, likely upset that he had dodged the question. "Not really. Your taste in stuff is far too Gucci-Gucci-bougie for me."

"No, not that!" Roman dismissed with a wave of his hand, " Not the furniture or anything like that. Just the…the feel of someone else being there too? Knowing that someone else is always there? Someone who's kind of like you but not really? Someone you can talk to when you have no one else?" Roman ran his fingers through his hair in distress. "Does that make any sense???"

Remus was still glaring at him, but now his eyebrows twitched with an unseen emotion. "Being brothers?" He hissed.

"What?"

Remus reached over to grab Roman's shoulders and shake him silly. "What you're describing. Is being brothers. What I wanted to be. What you didn't let us be. What you rejected. Shoved into the darkest corner. Placed under a Do Not Enter sign-"

"I'm sorry, okay! I didn't mean it!"

Remus paused in his shaking, several emotions flashing across his face. "Didn't mean it?"

"I know I-" Roman placed his hands over Remus' on his shoulders but didn't push him away and lowered his head in shame. "I acted rashly and perhaps a tad extreme to our new circumstances at the time. But it was for what I thought was the best. I only ever wanted to serve Thomas. I only ever wanted to please them. I never thought- I-" He looked sincerely back up into his brother's eyes. "I never thought about what that would mean for you. What that would do to you. What that would do to us. And for that, I'm sorry."

Remus loosened his grip but didn't let go entirely, staring intensely and attentively at Roman.

"I never actually wanted to push you away. I was just doing so because I thought- Well, okay admittedly I wasn't thinking much at all really but-" His eyes briefly flickered back to the closet door "I didn't want to become a dark side too! I didn't want to not be able to see Thomas. Or to be rejected by the others. I-" He laughed then. A dry, helpless laugh. He shifted to put his head in his hands. "But I guess that happened anyway, didn't it? What sick irony, huh? Maybe it's what I deserve… Maybe it's karmic retribution…"

"..."

"I shoved you away... And now they're shoving me away! I lost a brother so I could keep everyone and everything else in my life but now- now I've lost that, too- Now I have nothing. Now I am no-"

Remus tightened his grip on Roman's shoulders again and pulled him towards himself. He ended up knocking their heads together in the process-

"Ow! What the hell are you-"

-of wrapping his arms around Roman and hugging him to himself.

"You-You're hugging me?"

"You didn't lose a brother…" Remus pouted, as if he was a petulant toddler, "I've always been right fucking here if you'd open your stupid eyes for once."

Roman let out a shuddering breath, feeling an entirely new type of tear prickling at the corners of his eyes. He buried his head in Remus' shoulder and gripped onto the back of hid brother's clothes as if he was his last lifeline. He probably was.

Sure the hug was the most uncomfortable one he'd ever had, what with the hilt of the sword in Remus' stomach poking him in his own and his forehead still ringing with the pain from where Remus banged them together, but somehow it was still nice. It still felt like...home.

"...But I thought you hated me?"

"What gave you that idea?"

"You're always calling me names and hitting me with stuff!"

He felt Remus shrug. "You do the same thing."

"You do it first!"

"Eh- that's just what siblings do~~"

"With medieval weapons?!"

"Says the guy with a stash of swords under his bed!~" Remus sing-songed teasingly.

"Oh like you have room to talk- You said you keep daggers under your pillow!"

"Shouldn't everyone? You should keep some under yours too, Mr Whiny Prissy Pants!"

"And there's the name calling again."

"Hey now, you know it's the older siblings job to pick on the younger-"

"But I'm the older sibling! I manifested my form first!"

"Eh, semantics-schmantics! Same diff!"

"You're completely unreasonable!"

"And you're too stuck up!"

Roman let out a growl and smacked a hand over Remus' face, pushing him away and breaking up the hug. Remus let out a huff and reached over to slap the back of Roman's head in retaliation. This caused them to descend into a full on slap fight, looking like a slapstick scene straight out of a comedy movie.

They roughhoused like this, like a pair of bickering elementary schoolers, until they eventually tired themselves out and flipped gracelessly back onto the floor. They both stared at the ceiling for a few silent seconds before bursting out into fits of crazed laughter.

"That was the worst hug ever! Hahaha!"

"Hey! I don't have much practice! Heeheehee!"

"Haha! We must look like a couple of insane people lying here!"

"Haha! I knooowww~~ You're room is sooo trashed!~Heehee!"

"Hey! You're the one that trashed it! Hahaha!"

"Well you're the one who invited me here brozilla! Hahahoo!"

"You're the one that brought us here! Hahaheh! I wanted to be in your room! Heh!"

Their laughter eventually died down. But just as Roman was about to drift off into sleep from his position lying on the floor, he heard Remus ask, "Do you still want to go to my room?"

Roman blinked his eyes open. He sat up and looked forlornly around his own bedroom. The thought of staying here seemed lonely, now that he'd finally reunited and reconciled with his brother. And the pictures and posters adorning the walls just reminded him of past memories that only hurt to think about right now. "......Yeah. Yes, actually." He turned to Remus, who had also sat back up, " I know, I know it sounds crazy but-"

"I like crazy!" Remus grinned and raised his fingers in preparation to snap, causing Roman to have a flashback to the previous time he did it.

"Wait! Don't turn the room upside down again! We can just sink through the floor like we normally-"

"Sink through the floor? Okay, if you say so!" His grin widened maniacally and he snapped his fingers.

The floor started to shift and cave in on itself, causing Roman's furniture to all move closer to the center. A hole slowly opened under where the brothers had been sitting that pulled them down into it. Roman screamed as they were both sucked into the abyss.

His scream ended abruptly as he was flung up into Remus' room, the hole now acting as a geyser of sorts. Roman landed in an unruly manner and was knocked out of breath while Remus landed swiftly on his knee before rolling up into a standing position.

"Home, Smelly Home!" He proudly declared with his hands on his hips, either unaware of or uncaring towards his brother's struggle to get up from the floor.

"Shouldn't have opened my big mouth..." Mumbled Roman as he dusted his clothes off and tried to straighten his appearance, only for his work to be completely undone when Remus yanked him into his side and rustled his hair with his elbow. "Hey! Stop that! Do you have any idea how long it takes to do my hair?"

"Eh, it was already messed up anyways." Remus slapped Roman's shoulder, "Now come on slowpoke, I'm gonna give you the grand tour!" Remus then ran off further into his room, causing Roman to have to chase after him in order to keep up.

Remus showed him his bedroom first, which had a mirrored layout to Roman's, but the furniture was darker and more rustic. The decorations looked more like something out of a haunted mansion than a grand palace, like Roman's did. Remus then stopped by his weapons closet, where he finally removed the flamberge sword from his stomach and tossed it haphazardly inside. From what Roman could make out before Remus had shut the door again was that the room looked bigger on the inside than the title 'closet' would suggest. Remus then pointed out a few more small areas of note before eventually leading Roman to the back door.

Every side's room had a front door- where the other sides could enter their room, and a backdoor- where each side could go out of their room and into their own personal section of the mindscape. Most sides referred to it as their 'backyard', of sorts.

Roman followed Remus out of his backdoor and onto a balcony overlooking a dark, twisted forest. The balcony itself was the same design as Roman's own balcony but was made up of black marble instead of white. There were a few cracks here and there, yet it was overall fairly stable. English Ivy crept along the rails and crawled down the side of the castle. There were no stairs in sight, unlike with his own balcony, leading Roman to wonder whether Remus would take the time to climb down the Ivy or simply jump off of the railing in order to enter his backyard.

Remus spread his arms out in a grand gesture before spinning around to sit backwards on the railing, facing Roman. "So, what do ya' think? Badass digs, right?"

Roman, lost in thought and not expecting the question, blurted out the first thing to cross his mind. "We have similar balconies."

Remus raised an amused brow. "No shit, Sher-cock. We're in the same castle. Same castle, same floor plan. Duh."

"Wait, the same castle…?"

Remus shrugged, leaning far enough back on the railing to have Roman worry about him falling over the side of it, "It split when we did. We still share a room and space... it's just-" He waved around a hand dismissively. "Halved, now."

"Ah...so that's the reason we can visit each other without going through our front doors…" Roman walked up to lean forwards on the railing, right beside Remus. "Wonder why I didn't question that sooner?" He rested his chin in his hand with a sigh. "All this time, we were even in the same castle...the same area of the mindscape...and I never- I never even bothered to visit-"

Remus, who had grown bored of the conversation and had started to pick his nose, interrupted Roman's spiral by flicking boogers at him. "Hey now, none of that. You did enough moping back in your own room, you cry baby.*

"Ugh! Ew!" Roman sputtered indignantly and pulled out a doily to wipe his face. "You're disgusting." He huffed.

Remus stuck his tongue out at him and laughed. "If you start saying sad shit again, I'll give you a wet willy." He then leaned towards Roman and started wiggling his fingers menacingly.

"You wouldn't dare!"

"Try me, bitch!"

"Well, if you do that, then I'll- Then I'll shove you off of the balcony!"

Remus faked a scandalized gasp and placed a hand over his chest while the other draped across his forehead. "You'd murder your own dearest brother?!"

"It wouldn't kill you, you overdramatic oaf, sides can't die!"

"You're calling me overdramatic?" Remus abandoned the pose to lean forward with a knowing grin. "Talk about the pot calling the kettle black."

"Oh shut up." Roman pushed Remus away, before turning around to sit beside him atop the railing.

Remus' eyes widened. "My goody two shoes brother is sitting precariously on a railing? Since when? Is it opposite day? "

"What do you mean? I do dangerous stuff all the time!"

"Oh yeah? Like what?"

Roman gestured wildly, "I slay the dragons! I defeat the monsters! I save the people! I...fight the bad guys…" Roman deflated as his hands fell beside him to lock the rail in a death grip. "But I guess I failed at all of that, huh? So much for being a goody two shoes…"

Remus hummed in thought, nails tapping against the black marble. His legs swayed back and forth as they both looked up at the night sky above them in companionable silence. Roman eventually let out a forlorn sigh and relaxed his grip on the railing. Suddenly, Remus let out a loud gasp and clapped his hands together, startling Roman who in turn almost tipped over the edge of the balcony.

"I have the best idea!"

"Oh no, you're planning something. That can never be good."

" No, no! Really, really! Listen, listen!" Remus smacked Roman's arm and shoulder excitedly in-between each word.

"Okay, okay! Just stop!" Roman slapped Remus' hands away. "Tell me then brother, what is it?"

Remus beamed and jumped to stand back on the balcony. "Okay so, you're saying that the other sides are shutting you out, right? And that they made you feel like a stinky doodoo head?"

"Gee, thanks for reminding me. Totally helps me feel better." Roman grimaced with a sarcastic thumbs up as Remus paced back and forth.

"Right! So, they're starting to treat you like a villain. And J-Anus as a good guy?"

"I- I guess? That's like the bare essentials of what happened...I mean, that's what it seems like--Ugh, just what are you getting at?!"

Remus stopped pacing to spin towards Roman and spread his hands out. "So why not just be a villain?"

"......what?"

"Join the dark sides with me!" Remus then awkwardly faked a modeling pose. "We have great fashion! And weapons! Lots of weapons!"

Roman scoffed. "I know, I saw your weapons closet." He slid off the railing to stand in front of his brother. "But what makes you think I'd want to be a villain?"

"Well, they made you feel fucking awful, right?" Remus leaned forward with a menacing grin, "So why not give them a little hell in return?"

"What, as in revenge?! I'm supposed to be a purveyor of justice!"

Remus shrugged and started circling Roman. "Where's the justice in always shutting you out? Of always telling you that everything you do is wrong? Of splitting us apart?" He stopped to put his hands on Roman's shoulders again. "Aren't you tired of trying to be a good guy all the time? Don't you just want to let loose and raise a little hell?"

Roman bit his lip and wrung his hands together. He looked down at his feet as his brother's words rang through his head. Where was the justice in that? He had always tried to do the right thing before. To be the good guy. To be the hero. But no one ever appreciated his efforts. Instead they always, always focused only on his mistakes.

The other sides' voices chimed off in his head.

"Roman, you can't do that." "Shut up Roman." "That was wrong, Roman." "Stop being so dramatic, Roman."

He pushed those invading voices furiously away and tried to reorganize his thoughts.

Him, joining the dark sides? Could it even be done? A light side had never switched over to the dark side before... Well, unless you counted the original Creativity and their split. Where a part of that Creativity had...had been pushed to the dark sides and…

Roman's eyes widened in realization as he looked back up at his brother. "You too." He breathed out.

Remus squinted his eyes and scrunched his nose at him. "Hah?"

"Always being shut out. Always being told everything you do is wrong. Being forced to split apart." Roman grabbed the hands that were on his shoulders to move them down and squeeze them reassuringly. "You experienced all of that too. Even more than I did…Don't you want to raise hell too?"

Roman grinned in a very in unprincely manner and released Remus' hands. He swept his arms aside in a grand motion. "Let's raise hell together, brother. What do you say?"

Remus stared at him blankly for a moment before breaking out into a shit eating grin of his own. "Hell yeah! Hell mother fucking yeah!" He jumped up and down excitedly and clapped his hands. "Oh! We're gonna have so much fun! Those butt holes have no idea what's coming."

Roman chuckled fondly at his brother's enthusiasm. He felt lighter than he had in years. Free of responsibility. Free of expectations. Free of limitations. Free to do whatever he wanted. Speaking of which…

"You mentioned fashion earlier, didn't you?" Roman pulled at the hem of his shirt in thought before smirking up at Remus. "I believe for me to officially join the dark sides, a makeover may be in order."

Remus nodded and grabbed his brother's hand to drag him back inside, chanting, "Makeover time! Makeover time!" The entire way while pumping his fist victoriously into the air.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The next morning, in Thomas' living room.

"-and a part of taking care of yourself is to not self-deprecate." Janus was explaining, standing next to Logan.

"Yeah, you've gotta compliment yourself sometimes, Thomas!" Patton added happily.

Thomas scratched the back of his head nervously. "I don't know guys... isn't that a little…"

"Conceited?" Virgil cut in, glaring over at Janus' before looking back to Thomas. "What if we end up doing that out loud in front of others? What if people think we're stuck up?"

"Well, it's better than always thinking so negatively of himself." Janus spat out.

"Janus has a point, Virgil. It's been proven that constant self-deprecating behavior can have a wide range of negative effects on one's psyche and mental health." Logan chinned in while adjusting his glasses. "Which could also lead to eventual negative effects on one's physical health, including-"

"Well, I mean yeah!-" Virgil rushed to interrupt, "He shouldn't think too badly of himself...but he shouldn't think too highly of himself, either!" He uncrossed his arms and gestured towards the empty space where Roman usually stood. "I mean, what if Thomas ends up as stuck up as Princy here, huh? What would you do then-"

"Wait-" Thomas interrupted him, "Where is Roman? Has anyone seen him lately?"

The sides fell silent as they all looked curiously towards the empty spot.

"I haven't seen him since Janus joined us... Patton, didn't you check up on him or something?"

"Well, yeah! Of course I did kiddo!" Patton nodded then pouted, "He didn't seem to want to talk to me though…"

"Has anyone actually talked to Roman in a while? Where is he?"

The sides gave Thomas varying degrees of shrugs and noncommittal answers in response.

Thomas sighed, "Really, guys?" He then looked towards the corner again and called out, "Roman! Are you there? Are you listening? If so, come on up! You should join us!"

They waited in awkward silence for a while for Roman to appear, or to at least respond to Thomas' call...until they heard a deep chuckle emanating from behind the tv.

"Join you? Nope! Not possible~"

Hands crept out from behind the tv, grabbing onto the wall, causing everyone in the room to immediately be alert. They remembered the last time they saw hands there...this couldn't be good! Something was wrong! Sure enough, Remus slowly emerged, climbing up the wall as if he was a lizard. He then twisted his head around, causing Patton to almost faint from fear. Thomas, meanwhile, backed away as far as he could without falling over the couch.

"I'm afraid he's already joined someone else!~"

Remus jumped off of the wall to land in Roman's designated spot. His head and body shifted back to their original positions and he grinned at the others with his arms spread out. Now, the others could see that along with his usual attire, he also donned a crooked and cracked silver crown atop his head. His purplish eyeshadow was gone, instead replaced with a messily applied sparkly silver eyeshadow. Some of the glitter from it fell down the sides of his face to freckle his cheeks as well. The wide grin of his lips was painted in a deep green lipstick.

"Me!"

"Remus…?" Janus breathed out, confused.

"I didn't call for you! I called for Roman!" Thomas shouted once he had regained his composure from witnessing such a horrifying sight.

Virgil bristled and stood up from where he had been leaning against the stairs. "Where is he? What did you do with him?" He bared his teeth at Remus as if he was an agitated guard dog.

Remus put his hands on his hips and threw his head back with a laugh. "What did I do to him?" He leaned forward with a smirk. "What did you do to him? Huh?"

"Wha-what do you mean? W-we didn't do anything..." Stammered out Patton.

"Also, did he change his makeup?" Muttered Thomas, "It actually looks kinda good…"

"Focus on the main issue here, dudes!" Virgil snapped his fingers at them both before turning back to Remus. "Okay, whatever. It doesn't matter wherever you put him, just give him back!"

Remus chuckled and stepped to the side, "You hear that, dear brother? Sounds like they're ready for you to come out!~"

At that, the tv seemed to flicker to life. A colorful error screen appeared and started to crackle and fizz. As the glow from the tv lit up the room, the rest of the room started to glitch along with it.

The sides glanced around nervously, fear creeping into their bones once more.

"What's going on? What's happening to the room?!" Thomas panicked.

Logan placed a hand on his chin. "These types of spatial effects seeming to happen in Thomas' physical living room instead of just inside the mindscape...could it be?"

"No…" Gasped Janus, "No, it can't be!"

"Oh but it can!~" Announced another voice from inside the tv.

Hands reached out from inside the error screen to grasp the sides of the tv. A form slowly climbed out of the tv and stepped into the living room.

"......Roman? What on earth are you wearing?!" Virgil waved a hand incredulously at his new get up.

Roman, now fully standing beside Remus in his usual spot, smirked at Virgil and flicked his cape. "It's called fashion, Midnight Query."

Roman's usual outfit was now black in all of the areas it used to be white. On top of that, he wore a red velvet cape with a white and black spotted fur trim. On his shoulder laid a skull where the cape connected and clasped shut. His upper eyelid was decorated in sparkly gold eyeshadow and thick black eyeliner which spread out into a cat-eye look. His smirk donned blood red lipstick and a crown identical to Remus' was atop his head, except his crown was golden and not crooked or cracked at all. He looked like he had stepped right out of a fairytale…but as an evil king instead of a noble prince.

"Perhaps you should try it sometime, Dark and Dreary. It might make you look less…" Roman made a point of looking Virgil up and down before waving his hand at him with a scowl, "Drab."

"Roman! Where have you been? I missed you. Your makeup looks great!" Patton rambled ecstatically.

"Missed me?" He sneered, "Ha! I bet you all didn't even realize that I was gone." Roman then looked down to check his meticulously manicured nails with a bored expression.

"Of course we did! That's why I called you!" Insisted Thomas.

Roman tsked and shook his head. "Oh Thomas, Thomas. Always the peacemaker." He moved the hand he had been checking to flip his cape over his shoulder. "But I'm not here to make peace. We're here to raise hell. Isn't that right, brother?"

In response, Remus summoned a pitch black flamberge sword and stabbed the blade into the ground. "Hell yeah we are!"

The area of the floor that he smashed cracked open to reveal an eerie green and yellow glow. Small shadow hands emerged as little demons started crawling through the cracks.

Roman summoned a longsword with a ruby embedded in its hilt and slashed at the wall. Red and orange flames burst forth from the rip as even more shadow demons started to join them.

The glitching of the room from the tv screen grew at an alarming rate, some of the glitches covering entire pieces of furniture.

"What on earth is happening!?" Thomas screamed, gesturing wildly at, well, everything.

"Roman, you need to stop this now!" Virgil growled, slipping into his Tempest Tongue.

"Yeah kiddo," chuckled Patton nervously as he tried to wrestle his hoodie away from a demon that was currently trying to steal it. "Isn't this a tad bit extreme?"

Roman laughed darkly, raising his sword into a shrug. "And why should I?"

Remus rested his elbow on Roman's shoulder, "We haven't even begun to have our fun yet!"

Janus narrowed his eyes at Remus, "Remus, this is not what I meant when I said-"

"Blah blah blah!" Remus mimed a mouth with his hand. "That's all you are, anacon-don't. All talk, no action!"

"What's going on?! Why isn't anyone answering me?!"

"Well, Thomas, it appears that Roman and Remus have initiated-" Logan started only to get interrupted by Virgil.

"They started Daymare Mode!" Virgil shouted as he angrily threw a demon that had been crawling on him into the wall, knocking it out instantly.

"Daymare Mode? What's Daymare Mode?!"

"It's a combination of Daydream Mode and Nightmare Mode." Janus explained while shaking a demon off of his hat with a sneer, "It's a state Creativity can only achieve when it's whole…"

"So, what? They can affect the real world now that they're working together?!"

"Don't be ridiculous, Thomas." Chastised Logan, "You're technically just hallucinating-"

"I'm hallucinating?!"

"Yes, that is what I just said."

A demon tugged at Logan's pant leg only to be sent running away in fear by a well-placed harsh glare.

Patton, finally having gotten his hoodie free, tied it back around his shoulders and clapped his hands. "Okay, you two! That's enough. I'm not sure what's gotten into you today, but-"

"Oh no, no, no." Roman waved a finger at him, "I'm afraid we're not going to be listening to you anymore, padre."

"We've got our own plans, Daddy DingDong!"

"Oh yeah?" Hissed Janus, "And what exactly are those?"

"You can't do them, whatever they are!" Virgil yelled out as he stomped on another demon's tail, sending it hopping away in pain. "We won't let you. I won't let you!"

Remus and Roman exchanged amused glances before turning back to the others.

"You don't have to let us do anything," Roman hummed, "We're the kings. We shall do whatever we want." He waved a dismissive hand.

"Hear ye, Hear ye! The Twin Kings of Creativity!" Hollered Remus, as both twins raised their swords triumphantly in the air, "We take no shit and kick some ass!"

"To us!" Roman high fived Remus' hand, then turned to grin menacingly at the others, "And now, time for you to go to hell."

"To hell?!" Thomas gasped, looking desperately back and forth at the other sides.

Logan's eyes widened, having figured out what they were planning to do. "Roman, if I'm correct- and I always am- then I'd advise against-"

"Too late, Deuce Banner!" Remus shouted triumphantly as he and Roman clashed their weapons together. The sound from the clang resonated in all of their heads, making their vision blurry.

Thomas gripped the sides of his head, trying to get the ringing to stop hurting his ears. His head felt like it was splitting open. And then, there was nothing. Just a fade to black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thomas gasped for air as he woke up. Wait, woke up? Had it all been a dream? Thank god-!

"Well, well, well. It's about damn time." Drawled Roman.

"We thought you were never gonna come to!" Laughed Remus.

Thomas jumped up in surprise from where he'd been laying on the floor, only to immediately regret moving so harshly as he felt his head swim. "Ow ow ow." He gripped his forehead and peered around, "What-"

"Welcome, welcome!" Roman proclaimed as he spread his arms out in a grand gesture. "To the Kingdom of Creativity."

Thomas looked up to see Roman and Remus sitting side by side on twin thrones, one gold with red cushions and one silver with green cushions. Roman sat up straight with impeccable posture and one leg crossed over the other. Remus lay sideways across his throne, kicking his feet and tossing what appeared to be a grenade up and down as if it was a baseball.

"...What? Where am I?"

"We just told you." Scoffed Roman, "You're in the Kingdom of Creativity." At Thomas' confused frown, he continued, "You're in our room, Thomas."

"Your room?" Thomas looked around at the ornate throne room. "It doesn't look like my living room, like the others' did."

"That's cause we're not as boring as the other sides." Sighed Roman, "We have much more pizazz." He gestured at the room around them. "We did some redecorating recently, actually. What do you think, hmm?"

The throne room was mainly black, with silver and gold furniture giving the darkness a stark contrast. Banners of their two symbols hung on opposite sides of the room in correspondence with each side's throne. Overall it gave off a majestic yet eerie feel.

"It's- Um." Thomas finally stood up from his position on the floor and glanced around nervously. "It's certainly something. But um, where are the others…?"

He had long since noticed that it was just him and the twins in this room. The others had seemingly vanished into thin air. Their continued disappearance was making him more and more uneasy as each second ticked by.

Remus huffed and casually threw the grenade over his shoulder and out a window, causing an explosion to be heard outside. "What's wrong Thomathy, our room not up to snuff with the others? You prefer Daddyo's and Scene-Kid's rooms? Huh?"

"What? No!" Thomas raised his hands placatingly, not wanting to anger the two currently volatile sides, "You're room is fine! It's great! It's just they were here and now they're not here and I was just wondering-"

"They're off on their own adventure right now, Thomas." Roman butted in. He leaned forward to place his elbows on his knees and his chin in his hands. "That doesn't matter, though. What matters right now is us. Don't you want to stay here with us, Thomas? We can show you around the castle~!"

"Um- No, that's fine... No thank you." Thomas smiled as his voice shook. "I'm sorry, I can't stay here... I need to find the others."

Roman's pleased smile immediately fell into a scowl, "Fine, then. You want to see the others so badly?" He stood up from his throne and gestured for his brother to do the same. "Then why don't you just join them already!"

The both summoned their new weapons again, causing Thomas to start to panic. "Wait! Don't! Not again!"

"Too late, Thomas. You should have accepted our gracious offer."

"We could've had so much fun together!" Chirped Remus.

"And we will! You're just not ready yet, it seems." Roman sighed with a disappointed frown, "Now, for the time being~"

"Have fun in hell instead!~" The twins chimed in unison as they clashed their swords together for a second time.

The clanging rang in Thomas' already aching head as everything fell into the blackness once more.

#creativitwins #Darkside!roman #darkside roman #dark!roman #my fics #sanders sides #sanders side fic #i had too much fun writing this #though the living room scene was way too many characters to keep up with holy shit #yes i ended it on a cliffhanger no i am not sorry #will i continue this au?? probably not lmao #the rest is up to your i-m-a-g-i-n-a-t-i-o-n!~~~

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