#as if he wasn’t the only one that noticed virgil biting his nails

[too-much-yike]

methinks virgil bites his nails a lot so whenever logan sees him doing this, he just hold out his hand for virgil to grab it and just.. holds his hand and lets him play w logan’s hand instead of picking at his nails.

#analogical #then one time he sees virgil biting his nails while they’re shooting a video and he just grabs virgil’s hand #and the rest of them are like #“??????? why are u guys holding hands????” #and logan just says “so he doesn’t but his nails obviously” #as if he wasn’t the only one that noticed virgil biting his nails

[beauty-and-passion]

FSS3 Episode 2: Never enough

Welcome to the second episode of FSS3! Let's keep going with the character growth, these boys really deserve it.

Updates every Monday, Wednesday and Friday.

What is FFS3 - Introduction - Season 2 finale - previous episode - next episode

AO3 link for this episode

DISCLAIMER: As said in the introductory post, Fanders Sides Season 3 (season 2 finale included) could have triggering themes/scenes. Please keep that in mind before reading.

_______________________________

It’s the day of the audition for the hero’s role.

Thomas is behind the stage, waiting for his turn. Remus and Logan are on his sides, Virgil is behind them, biting his nails.

Remus is bouncing, excited and ready to go. Logan is giving Thomas the last bits of advice: it’s almost his turn, so he and Virgil are both quite nervous.

Remus shrugs: it’s okay, it will be a great performance!

Thomas reminds him that they should play the hero’s monologue, not the serial killer’s. Is Remus really ready for that?

Remus confirms, still with the same confidence: sure, he can perfectly do it. It won’t be so hard!

Before Thomas can express more doubts, someone calls his name, so he rushes on stage. Remus runs after him, Virgil and Logan follow and watch from a distance.

Thomas takes a long breath and starts with the monologue: the hero proclaims his past victories, talks about the enemies he already defeated, shows how strong and powerful he is and narrates about all the times he was in danger and, despite the difficulties, still won.

Remus recites the lines, accompanies every word with a movement, a pose, an expression. And everything he does, Thomas does it the same, by mimicking it to perfection.

Still, something isn’t working. Despite the perfect overlap between Thomas’ and Remus’ actions, voices and expressions, something is still missing.

Logan notices first: it’s not a bad performance, he says to Virgil, but it’s not the best performance. It’s not what Thomas can really do.

On stage, Remus seems to notice as well and his expression changes into a pensieve one: it’s clear he’s thinking of a solution, trying to find out what’s wrong.

And then, his eyes light up and he suddenly stops.

Thomas fumbles a bit, caught by surprise by the sudden lack of creativity. Still, he keeps reciting the monologue.

Logan intervenes and immediately runs on stage. He approaches Remus and asks him what’s wrong, to which Remus replies with just four words: “I am not enough”.

Logan is taken aback by this. He says this is preposterous: he’s doing a very good job, he’s helping Thomas! Sure, he never worked alongside Thomas like he’s doing now, but he’s not bad at all. He’s showing he can be useful. This is the only chance he has and will ever have to prove it. And Logan knows he can do it.

Remus shakes his head, so Logan insists: Remus is enough. He has the power of a Creativity. He’s clever, he’s resourceful. He can do anything he puts his mind into. And if he needs help, Logan will give him all the help he needs…

But Remus stops him: he knows he can do anything he wants, he says. When he said he wasn’t enough, he didn’t mean he’s not good. He meant that he’s not enough by himself.

Before Logan can reply, Remus asks him to take his place. Logan is confused and tries to say something, but Remus stops him again: they both know he’s a lot more than just logic. That’s his chance too. And without giving Logan time to reply, he just leaves.

Remus sinks and rises up again, this time in a field - the same one from the season 2 finale. He walks toward a cabin and, without knocking at the door, opens it.

Inside the cabin, there is just one table, one window and one sideboard with shelves. The table is full of things: fruits assembled to form a still life, a canvas with a charcoal sketch, powder colors, sprays, liquid colors, lacquers, flowers hanging from the ceiling, books piled up, scattered notes on a scrapbook and an opened journal.

Roman is there, standing in front of the table. As soon as he hears the door opening, he turns around. What is Remus doing here? Roman specifically asked for some time alone, why is his brother there? Shouldn’t he be helping Thomas?

Remus approaches his brother, then asks if Roman feels like him.

If Roman was annoyed before, he’s confused now. What does that mean?

Do you feel the same?, Remus insists. Do you feel ideas burning like a fire inside you? Do you feel them consuming your organs and throat, until you can do nothing but release them?

Roman looks at the table full of stuff, the tiny cabin full of things. He nods. He was thinking and reflecting on himself and the more he thought, the more ideas had. To the point, they were suffocating him and he couldn’t keep them hidden anymore.

So he asked for some time alone to… understand them. To experiment. To let them flow and see what he was able to do with them.

But still (and his expression turns into frustration) no matter what he starts doing, he can’t find a way to finish it. He lets the ideas flow, but then there’s always something missing. He ends them and he’s not satisfied. They’re not like he figured them in his mind. And he can’t pinpoint exactly what he’s doing wrong.

Remus looks at him, at his frustration, at the room full of stuff, at the half-finished projects. And then, he says Roman will never be enough for Thomas. His creativity will never be enough to cover all the needs Thomas has. He will always miss something. His ideas will always be unfinished.

He turns to Roman: he looks hurt, almost on the verge of tears. 

But Remus keeps talking and says he will also never be enough. Even if Thomas won’t stifle him anymore, even if he accepts all of his ideas, Remus will never be enough. Even if Remus tries to change into something more family-friendly, he will never be good enough. He will always miss something.

While Remus talks, we see the situation on stage: Thomas is still fumbling a bit, while the monologue keeps going: the hero doesn’t sound too sure, while talking about his victories. His voice fades, while he asks himself if he was enough. Did he do everything he could to save those people? Did he do everything he could, to avoid more victims? Did he really do his best?

Logan looks around, searching for a solution. He cannot leave Thomas alone, so he asks Virgil to come on stage and help, but Virgil vehemently shakes his head and hides behind the stage.

Logan is left alone, while Thomas falls on his knees, still playing the monologue. Maybe, the hero says, he didn’t do everything he could. Maybe he wasn’t enough.

Silence falls and so Logan gets on his knees as well, mimicking Thomas’ pose. Then, he starts reciting the lines. He didn’t do his best, the hero says. He could’ve done better. He could’ve saved more lives. But without him, more lives would’ve been lost. Without him, more children would’ve lost their families. He wasn’t perfect, but he tried his best. He put his life on the line. He did what his heart told him to do.

Thoma tries to follow Logan’s words, but there isn’t a perfect overlap. His words and actions are a bit delayed. And Logan is still a bit stiffy in his poses, words and expressions.

We cut back to Remus. He’s still talking and he tells Roman that, no matter how hard they try, their ideas will always miss something. Roman cannot handle the full creative process by himself and Remus cannot do that either.

However… he says as he picks up the brushes and bends on the canvas. He puts colors on it, while still talking.

He and Roman will always be useless by themselves, he says. Always. Because they are two halves of a full Creativity. A gore-y, creepy, dark part and a stupid, dull, boring part.

(“Hey!”, Roman protests)

Remus leaves the canvas to the side and picks up a few flowers, to throw them on the scrapbook.

They are two halves, he insists while pressing them down. And they will always be incomplete by themselves, because they will miss what the other can do. Roman is good at exploring and refining ideas, but bad at making them. Remus is full of ideas, but not patient enough to develop them.

While he talks, he picks a few leaves, drips them in liquid color, then throws them on the journal.

By themselves, they will never make a masterpiece, he says and walks away, to show Roman the table full of projects. But together…

Roman approaches the table. The canvas is finished and his draft, which was so precise and elegant, is now colored in vibrant tones with a pop texture. The flowers in the scrapbook are not enclosed in the beautiful rectangles Roman made for them, but they sit between the words, as if words and leaves are one huge painting decorated by empty, embroidered frames.

While the journal was just elegant notes in black on white paper. But when Roman removes the leaves, he notices they left prints of colors, dots and splashes that light up the pages in a much funnier, more interesting way.

From that, the camera shows us Logan and Thomas on stage. While he keeps playing the monologue, Logan’s movements slowly become less rigid, his expressions soften, his words are much more fluid. And the delay between his actions and Thomas’ becomes less and less evident. We can finally see Thomas perfectly mimicking his words, actions and expressions. In a perfect overlap, we shift from Logan saying his lines, to Thomas finishing those same lines.

While we keep seeing them, the camera alternates to show us Roman turning to Remus. For 30 years of his life, he says, he saw Remus as something bad, because that was his way of thinking: everything that didn’t follow the concept of “hero = good” was automatically bad. So, Remus was bad too.

But once Roman realized he could be anything he wanted, that he could be a hero and a villain at the same time, he got struck by a realization: if he could be good and bad, then there was no need to divide between these two concepts. And so, there was no need to divide between Sides. There was no “us” vs “them” anymore. No more “good Sides” and “evil Sides”.

You were ashamed of yourself, Remus says.

I was, Roman admits. I still am. I still have a lot to learn. This is why I locked myself here and tried to create something: to prove I learned my lesson and was worthy of another chance. But nothing came out of these experiments, no idea was truly completed… until you came here.

Remus shows him a grin: some things never change, don’t they? He should always intervene, to save his brother’s ass.

Roman laughs. He asks Remus if he wants to try: would you like to do this together?

Remus offers his hand: let’s show what we can do, to that bunch of pussies out there.

Roman accepts his hand and we go back on the stage. Logan is steering Thomas into the final part of the monologue: the hero is aware of his past mistakes, he knows he could’ve done better. But he also knows he changed something. He made a difference. So, this time, he will use his experience as a lesson and face this new fight with a more mature mentality.

While Logan talks, Roman’s voice overlaps and reconnects with his last lines. Logan blinks, caught by surprise: he turns around, sees the two Creativities and exchanges a gaze with Remus. Remus nods and picks from Roman’s words, while walking on stage. Roman follows him, still reciting the lines. Remus continues, with a new action, new expressions.

Logan slowly retreats, while the two Creativities keep exchanging lines, shifting from one action to the other, their movements and expressions naturally flowing from one to the other.

And Thomas follows them both, mimicking their expressions, their gestures, their enthusiasm, into an ending full of hope and determination.

Thomas ends his monologue and, in the silent theater, he bows.

_______________________________

END CARD

Thomas returns home and everyone is excited: Roman and Remus are enthusiastic, Logan confirms it was an excellent performance, even Virgil is satisfied.

Thomas thanks them all very much: Logan and Virgil did a great job at keeping everything in line and the twins have been amazing! Gosh, he’s so happy Roman is back! But is it okay for Roman too? Does he need more time for himself?

Roman confirms everything is okay now. He got what he needed. He just has one tiny request: he wants to keep working together with his brother.

Virgil’s happy expression turns into worry. Thomas is a bit worried too, but also confused. Is he sure?

Yes, Roman confirms. Remus helped with the performance, so he wants to see what else his brother can do.

Remus takes that as a challenge: he’s full of ideas he wants to try.

Perfect, says Roman in the same defiant tone. Give them to me, I will make something good out of them.

With a huge grin, Remus confirms he can’t wait to see that.

Still, Virgil looks a bit worried. He asks Roman if he’s really really sure he wants to work with Remus. To which, Roman replies that yes, he’s sure. He wants to give him another chance.

From his side, Thomas says that if Roman is okay with that, he’s okay too. He trusts Roman and wants him to explore the concept of creativity as much as he wants. He knows Roman will make something great out of it.

Roman is very moved by this, he thanks Thomas with a grateful expression. Then, Thomas says goodbye to all of them and all the Sides sink.

°

Logan rises again in a bedroom, in front of Thomas’ degree certificate. A voice behind him says it sucks when someone doesn’t acknowledge your contributions, doesn’t it?

Logan turns around: Remus is sitting cross-legged on Thomas’ bed. He’s looking at him with the usual mischievous spark in his eyes.

Logan says Thomas thanked him, Remus replies that this wasn’t even remotely enough. Logan didn’t just “keep everything in line”: he gave Remus more time to talk with Roman and covered for both Creativities, by guiding Thomas through his monologue. He did something incredible. And Thomas should’ve acknowledged it.

Logan shrugs: he’s used to Thomas not recognizing his job.

Doesn’t it piss you?, Remus asks. Don’t you feel your blood boil?

Logan closes his hands into fists, purses his lips. Then, he turns around and apologizes to Remus: he did the same thing in WTIT, didn’t he? He didn’t acknowledge Remus’ contributions. He should’ve paid attention and helped him get his points through Thomas, instead of forcing Thomas to follow a plan he wasn’t interested in. Remus is useful and Logan knows it: he should’ve helped, instead of opposing him.

Remus says that the same goes for Logan: he is not just Thomas’ logical Side, he is a lot more than that. And Thomas needs him too.

Logan turns around and repeats he is just doing his job.

You can do a lot more, Remus insists. You can play a role in the creative process.

Logan shakes his head and says this is ridiculous. This is Remus’ and Roman’s field, not Logan’s.

Then, he quickly sinks and leaves Remus alone.

_______________________________

AUTHOR’S NOTE

Character growth! Logan starting to show what he can do! Closure of WTIT!

Logan never had a chance to prove how useful he is for the creative process, so I wanted to force him to show that. We all know logic plays a fundamental role in everything creative, but he never had a chance to truly show that. He needed it. And I also needed to establish his point of view about it at the moment, which is “I have nothing to do with that”. At least now we’re sure what his position is.

The twins needed a confrontation, but in order to have that, Roman should’ve reached a more mature understanding. He should’ve realized that the world isn’t just “black” or “white”. Only after that, he can really talk with his brother and offer him a collaboration.

Speaking of Remus, again, I wanted to show his cleverness. Remus. Is. Intelligent. He’s freaking clever. And if he was so clever during WTIT to understand Logan’s problem, why shouldn’t he be clever enough to understand his own problem?

And then, WTIT. Logan and Remus needed another moment post-WTIT. Not because Remus needed an apology, but because Logan needed to apologize for his own lack of intelligence. Just like Remus, he’s just too clever to not recognize what he did wrong.

(I just like these two being very clever, okay?)

( Support me on Ko-fi )

_______________________________

TAGLIST:

@royalprinceroman @reesiereads @mudpuddlenl@allmycrushesaredead @aquatedia@whatishappeningrightnow  @effortiswhatmatters @bella-in-a-bag  @doydoune @forever-third-wheeling​ @payte​ @hypnossanders​  @idontreallyknow24​  @imcrushedbyarainbowoffical​ @patton-cake​  @hereissananxiousmess​  @purplebronzeandblue​  @cynicalandsarcastic​ ​@lost-in-thought-20​ @andtheyreonfire​ 

@riseofthewerewolf​ @rosesandlove44​​  @chewy-rubies @groaaaaan​ @arya-skywalker​  @csi-baker-street-babes​ @queen-of-all-things-snuggly

@dracayd-universe​ @starlightnyx​ @stubbornness-and-spite​ @averykedavra @joyrose-fandomer @mihaela-tbg @igonnatalknothing​

@thatoneloudowl​  @grayson-22  @softangryfuckingdepressed @theotherella  @boopypastaissalty @nevenastark @varthandiveturinn @roses-bubbles @cuter-on-the-inside  @coldbookworm  @snixxxsmythe @charmingcritter  @analogical-mess @emphasis-on-the-oopsie @selfdestructivecat @yangwalkerao3

#sanders sides #fanders sides season 3 #fss3 #remus sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #thomas sanders #janus sanders #orange side

[two-am-outlines-only]

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful drawing that pairs with this work and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this as well, it came out a lot better because of them!

Chapter Summary: Virgil didn’t know what he had been expecting when he asked for a tutor to help with his studies, but it definitely wasn’t who could kick flip a skateboard without even looking down and also happened to be his soulmate.

Day 5 Prompt: Vocab Card/Skateboard

Warnings: none

Word Count: 1539

AO3 link

Chapter Five: We’ll Meet in the Middle

Virgil huffed as he cupped his chin aggressively in his hand, staring down the road to wait for his tutor to show up. Not to get the wrong idea- he was very grateful to the person who had agreed to help him with his vocabulary; he just...wasn’t the best with people. He was socially awkward and very obviously had a vague emo style- wavy purple hair with white streaks fell messily over shadowed eyes and cheeks that would burn in five minutes outside despite his tanned complexion. His black nail polish was chipping from the constant picking and he was never seen anywhere without his favorite purple hoodie hugging him like a portable blanket. But he was falling a bit behind in class because he couldn’t seem to remember the constant influx of new terminology thrown at him each week. Asking the professor about extra practice had landed him a phone number that he had agonized over for too many hours before finally biting the bullet and calling.

The voice on the other end alone was enough to make his stomach flip, light and lilting even when talking about something as boring as scheduling. Virgil knew it then and he was stewing over it now- he was absolutely done for. No one had that kind of voice without being kind and patient and while those were things he definitely needed if he was going to learn anything he was sure he’d get distracted anyway. Forming a squish from a voice- that had to be the worst joke played on him yet.

Looking up however nearly made him want to cry at the irony. That had to be him, the only person on campus at the moment standing tall on a skateboard while gripping a dark blue messenger bag. From what Virgil could see he had blue hair that was pulled to one side with the other shaved, immediately piquing Virgil’s interest with the unique look. He tried his hardest not to stare as he came closer and his jacket came into view; a leather one spiked at the shoulders and sporting pride flags at the chest. Virgil felt his own chest constrict as he stored that away for later, the pintrovert system coming in handy for what felt like the first time in his life.

Just as he was getting his crutches situated to stand up he noticed the other man riding straight for the sidewalk seemingly not paying attention to where he was going. Scrambling to his feet he lurched forward to yell out.

“Hey watch ou-” The warning died on his lips as his tutor executed a perfect lick flip onto the sidewalk, letting the momentum carry him a couple more feet before stopping and tucking the skateboard under his arms. Virgil was sure he looked like an absolute idiot as he approached him, trying his hardest not to gape while practically feeling his eyes sparkling while looking at the punk with wide eyes.

“Hello, I’m Logan. And you’re Virgil right? The person I’m supposed to help with his medical terms?” He waited for Virgil to nod before continuing. “Excellent. Is the library fine?”

Realizing He’d been silent too long, he managed to squeak out a “Yeah,” as he reached down to swing his bag over his shoulder. Logan started towards the doors with him, shuffling things around in his bag to pull out notecards and stuff the skateboard into it. How it fit Virgil had no idea but taking in the aesthetic he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it involved some sort of fae magic.

They settled down at the table and Logan looked over at him, making his heart once again skip a beat as he took in the beautiful shade of brown. Shaking his head slightly he tried to focus on what Logan was currently talking about while organizing several colored pens in front of them.

“-that way you’ll be able to separate the terms better and your brain will be better equipped to compartmentalize the terms you need to remember in half the time. Does that make sense?”

It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. He had a soulmate somewhere that he hadn’t found yet and most likely wouldn’t for a long time to come, and yet here he was trying desperately to hide a blush because this person was just- he was so cool. His voice and eyes were pretty and he was obviously smart if he had been the first person his teacher had recommended to tutor him…

“Are you feeling alright? You look flushed.” Hearing this Virgil snapped back to reality and gave a thumbs up, ducking his head while trying to resist the urge to slam it into the wood.

“Fine, yeah! Just you’re- it’s hot! Hot in the hoodie.” Praying he had saved that sentence quickly enough he dared to peak back at Logan through his bangs, who was just smiling slightly with an arm draped over the back of his chair.

“You can take that off then, if you want.” Logan pointed to the hoodie. “Since you’re hot.”

Virgil decided then, somehow managing to keep a straight face through his panic, that it was quite homophobic of the floor to not simply open and swallow him whole. Try as he might to calm himself he could still feel the remnants of the harsh flush in his cheeks as he saw Logan simply look at him with that smile, making him idly wonder if the sly bastard was really flirting with him or was actually just that oblivious.

Virgil sputtered as he wrapped the hoodie tighter around himself, shaking his head slightly. “Nah, I’m fine actually! You were saying about colors?”

“Just that color coding can help you study better. I’m here to give you tips as well so please pay attention.” Leaning forward again, Logan started explaining how to separate the different concepts and how to decide what was important and what wasn’t; honestly Virgil was genuinely surprised at how much he retained, forgetting his panic in favor of actually learning, for which he was very grateful. By the time an hour had passed he had a pretty good grasp on what he was meant to be learning and how to go about it. He stacked his much improved notecards together and shoved them in his pocket for later, shifting around in his seat to look at Logan properly.

“Thank you honestly, I feel a lot better about the class now.”

“It was no trouble, I’m grateful I was able to help. And if you’re in need of further assistance before next week, call me?” Logan smiled crookedly. “I use the library’s phone for tutor scheduling, this is for my actual phone..”

Virgil gaped at the slip of paper offered to him with a wink, fully cementing the idea that Logan had, in fact, been flirting with him and Virgil had been too infatuated with his style to actually notice. Purple nail polish caught his eye as his hand moved closer and he had the vague thought of that being his favorite color and how did he keep them from chipping? Before his thoughts could wonder further he was taking the paper and smiling, just aware enough of their fingers brushing as he remembered being with this person, his soulmate, time and time again. Every time was better than the last as their souls grew accustomed to one another and grew over eternity, strengthening their bond with every word exchanged.

Virgil looked at his soulmate's dazed expression, the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen gracing his lips and eyes watering with emotion at having found him again. So many words stuck in his throat as he struggled with the perfect thing to say, something that would capture how happy he was to finally be together again and how excited he was to explore this lifetime together. Something that would make Logan understand just how much he meant to him.

“I think this is the coolest form you’ve ever taken.” He blurted, immediately covering his mouth and cursing himself twice over.

His heart sank as Logan barked out a laugh, snorting into his own hand and taking a minute to compose himself before laying a gentle hand on his cheek.

“And I think this is the loveliest I’ve seen you.”

He laughed softly as Virgil went completely red, fingers twitching with indecision over whether to flap his hand or slap the idiot beside him. Deciding on a combination of both he frantically beat a hand against his shoulder while sleeping his other over his mouth, mumbling profanities under his breath. Whipping around as his hand was caught he couldn’t help but grin at Logan’s own brilliant smile, even if his face felt like he had dipped it in a vat of boiling water.

“It’s getting late, I could walk you home?”

“Yeah,” Virgil managed. “I’d like that.”

Walking home and still slightly wishing the floor had opened up beneath him, he couldn’t help but feel lucky that he had found Logan so soon. They had an eternity to catch up on and if it had to start with fixing his bad study habits, he supposed he couldn’t complain.

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#oren writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #analogicalweek #analogical week 2021 #virgil sanders #sanders sides virgil #logan sanders #sanders sides logan #logan x virgil #virgil sanders x logan sanders #analogical #sanders sides analogical

[forever-emo-phase]

Mission Status: Sick!

Notes: Hello this is my first fic for Sanders Sides! It is inspired by @illogicallyinclined​‘s hockey AU! If you haven’t ever gotten into it, do it! However, you can still read even if you don’t know anything about the AU! Characters: Virgil, Logan

Ship: The whole thing is pretty much just analogical pining Warnings: Panic attack is described Genre: Just guys being dudes being gay. Fluff maybe? It’s not sad and that’s all I can tell you. Summary: Which is how Virgil arrived at his current situation, Logan tensely sitting at his desk in the middle of the night with shoulders so tight he looked like he was seconds away from shattering.

'It's a good thing that my homosexuality is stronger than my pride', Virgil thought as he opened a capri sun and violently squeezed it onto his sheets.

Check it out on Ao3 here! https://archiveofourown.org/works/33804841

Anxiety sucks. Virgil’s nails are always bitten down to the quick, hands never still, and the insides of his cheeks chewed and raw. If Virgil had to find a bright side, it would have to be his ability to read people. With just a look, Virgil could tell by the slump of his shoulders when Roman needed a little bit of extra praise. He would notice the redness around Patton’s eyes and know that he would need more company than normal. 

But the one person Virgil prided himself on seeing was Logan. It was almost second nature for him to sense the tension in Logan’s shoulders without even looking, he could almost feel it in the air. He could see when Logan needed to get out of his head and stop pushing himself before he broke. 

Dealing with Logan’s emotions, however, was slightly harder. If his approach was too physical, like he would approach Patton, Logan would withdraw. If he tried to take the same approach he would with Roman, showering compliments tempered with a light bit of teasing, Logan would get uncomfortable and retreat.

Which is how Virgil arrived at his current situation, Logan tensely sitting at his desk in the middle of the night with shoulders so tight he looked like he was seconds away from shattering.

'It's a good thing that my homosexuality is stronger than my pride', Virgil thought as he opened a capri sun and violently squeezed it onto his sheets. 

The thing with Logan is that he doesn’t care about himself. He will push himself to his limit and keep going, but, if someone else needs something? He will help as much as he can, even though sometimes it may not be overly obvious that he is helping.

“Hey Logan?” Virgil says from across the room, staring at his now soaked bedding. 

“Yes, Virgil?” Logan doesn’t look up from his computer as he sharply replies. For a moment Virgil wonders if this scheme was the best idea, it could fail horribly and Logan could be angry and refuse. But, the wheels were already in motion, his sheets were already wet, and there was no turning back.

“I fucked up.” He said plainly, watching as Logan’s head turned so fast to look at him that he was surprised that he didn’t hear a crack. Realizing how ominous his statement was, Virgil raised his hands and quickly spat out a placating “No it’s okay i’m fine!”

Logan let out a sigh before replying “What did you manage to do that was so dramatic that it required that statement, while I was sitting in the same room, only a handful of feet away from you?”

“Well…” Virgil started, choosing his words very carefully to make sure his plan could not fail. “I was panicking a little bit while I was drinking my Capri Sun and I squeezed it a little bit too hard. It spilled on my sheets and my bed is soaked now.” 

Logan’s eyes assessed Virgil, making him momentarily wonder if his lie was believable. Did his dishonesty show on his face? Was Logan about to get angry and yell at him? His hands began to shake slightly and his breathing picked up and, he thought wryly, at least now he wasn’t lying about being anxious. His fears were eased when he saw the slight softening of Logan’s face. 

“Oh Virgil,” Logan huffed out, his face morphing into an expression of fond exasperation, “You need to stop having drinks in your bed, especially ones of the extremely spillable and sugary type.”

Virgil shrugged, “It is what it is, you know?”

“It does not have to be the way that it is?” Logan said with a hint of confusion sneaking into his voice. “You can very easily change the circumstance.”

A small chuckle escaped from Virgil as he watched his roommate struggle to wrap his head around the statement. Logan was extremely smart, that was obvious, but watching him puzzle out modern slang and sayings struck Virgil as endearing every time. “It’s too late to change it now, you know?”

“You are correct.” Logan intoned and Virgil could already see some of the tension leaving Logan’s shoulders as he began to relax during the conversation. “Do you have a plan for drying your bedding before it is time for you to sleep?”

“Not at all.” Virgil said as he absentmindedly brought his hand to his mouth to bite his nails, but stopped as Logan let out a soft click of his tongue as a reprimand. As he lowered his hand, he absent-mindedly wondered if Logan was even aware that he had made the sound. Either way, Virgil found it incredibly sweet. “I’ll probably just sleep on the floor. My pillow is dry.”

Virgil made a show of picking up his pillow and feeling around for a dry blanket so that he could make a temporary bed on the floor, however, he was quickly interrupted.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Logan scolded lightly, “You can sleep in my bed. I will be up for a significant while longer doing work, it is no problem at all.”

Everything was falling into place for Virgil and he had to resist the urge to steeple his fingers together like a Bond villain. But his work was not finished, there was still one more task- Get Logan In The Bed.

“Dude no!” He exclaimed, “I’m not taking your bed! You’ve gotta sleep at some point!”

“Virgil,” Logan sighed, “I have a lot of work to do that I need to get done soon. I was actually planning to get up and pour myself some more coffee.”

Shit. If Logan got caffeine into his system, it was game over. His plan would fail and he would just be in Logan’s bed, and while that wouldn’t be the worst thing, it was not the plan. Panicking, he blurted out a quick “No!”

“No?” Logan said with a raised eyebrow, “What do you mean?”

‘Now or never’ Virgil thought to himself, before delivering the line that had inspired the whole plot.

“I wouldn’t feel okay with taking your bed, just in case you decided to sleep. Could we just share for the night?”

Logan looked puzzled, “I suppose, but I have already told you that I am not necessarily planning on sleeping tonight.”

“I know but.. I would feel bad.” Virgil said, his anxiety rising now that he was this far into the plan and there was truly no turning back. “Could you just… Would you just lay down for a minute? It would make me feel better.”

Judging by Logan’s expression, Virgil was convinced that he had lost Logan. His plan had failed and he felt a burn of shame in his chest, clenching his eyes shut. God he was so stupid! He should have just refused the offer to take Logan’s bed and slept on the floor! He should have not even tried this stupid plan! Virgil had not noticed his breathing picking up and his fingernails burying themselves into his palms as his thoughts spiraled into a pit of anxiety. He had not noticed until Logan’s voice washed over him.

“Virgil?” He said, somehow both softly and with authority. “Name five things you can see.” Virgil pried his eyes open, not really remembering when he had closed them. “Bed. Computer. Shoes. Water bottle. Posters.”

Logan nodded his head, with a small smile. “You are doing very well. Now four things you can touch.”

“Uhhh…” Virgil hesitated, eyes darting to Logan, “Sheets. Pants. My hair. Wet blanket.”

“Good job. Three things that you can hear now.” 

“Your voice. The air conditioner. Our obnoxious neighbors.” His breathing had started to slow and he could feel his body relaxing.

“Two things you can smell, you’re almost there.”

“Capri sun from my sheets and your disgusting coffee.”

“Last thing, one thing you can taste.” 

“Toothpaste.” With his breathing regulated and feeling calmer, Virgil smiled wryly back at Logan. “I’m sorry. That was… sudden.”

“You are perfectly fine. I have reassured you multiple times that I do not mind helping you.” Logan said soothingly. “Why don’t we go lay down? You are typically quite tired after these events.”

“Yeah… that sounds good.” Virgil said as he stood to move to Logan’s bed, straightening his sleep pants and he went. “Do… are you going to lay down too?”

Logan hummed, walking to his laptop to shut the lid, as well as flipping the main lights in the room off.  “Yes I suppose that I can for a moment. Just to assure you that I do not mind that you are in my bed.”

Virgil lifted the sheets of the bed and crawled under, scooting over so that he was next to the wall, leaving space for Logan to enter. “Alright. I promise I won’t keep you too long.”

“Well.” Logan said as he joined Virgil under the sheets, “I, in all honesty, could use the sleep.”

Virgil smiled at Logan with a soft “Good night then.”

“Good night Virgil.” Logan whispered, reaching up to turn off the light next to his bed, plunging them both into darkness.

The next time Virgil opened his eyes, the sun was shining through the window of the room and his head was resting on Logan’s shoulder. One of Logan’s strong arms was wrapped across Virgil and Virgil could hear Logan’s soft breathing against his ear.

Slowly reaching into his pocket so as to not disturb Logan, Virgil pulled out his cellphone, which was at 9%, and quickly snapped a picture before sending it to Remy with a simple caption.

“Mission accomplished.”

 (And that is the end! Feedback is very appreciated!)

#Sanders Sides #sanders side fic #virgil/logan #sanders sides fanfiction #Sanders sides fanfic #ts virgil #ts logan #roman mentions #patton mentions #remy mentions #virgil sanders #logan sanders #Analogical #ts analogical #logan/virgil #hockey AU #tw panic attack #Larz does a write

[eliemo]

The Worst Thing in the World

Summary: Everyone knows Virgil needs to be handled a little different. He might not like it, but that’s the way it is, and living with the light sides won’t change that. After all, it’s common sense. Right? 

Notes: So this is a lot longer and sadder than I planned on but i tend to get carried away. All main 6 sides are sympathetic here. 

TWs: Talk of physical violence, implied abuse (past) Sympathetic/morally gray Remus and Janus but Unsympathetic unnamed characters 

Part Two: Getting There

Virgil paused outside the closed door, holding his breath and listening, ensuring everything was silent for what had to be the hundredth time. 

It had taken him an embarrassingly long time to work up the courage to even make it down the hall. 

But everything was quiet. Logan was with Thomas working on the schedule for the week and should be occupied for a while. It was fine. Virgil could slip in and out and no one would ever know. 

He really shouldn’t be pushing his luck like this. They’d been so...so ridiculously nice to him since he’d tried to duck out, and it had been everything he’d wanted for longer than he knew how to say. 

They were welcoming, understanding, and patient. And most of the time, he was able to convince himself it was genuine. That they were all trying. 

And yeah, he knew it wouldn’t always be this good. He was still getting used to all of this, to being a part of things, so they were cutting him some slack. Letting him adjust. Giving him time to get comfortable. 

Honestly, at times it was a bit painfully obvious how hard they were trying, especially considering how far from perfect he’d been despite his best efforts. 

They’d let far too many things go in favor of getting Virgil to relax. Things that never would slide if he’d been around longer. 

 He’d put a clean glass in the wrong cabinet after his first dinner with the light sides, and Patton had only smiled, quickly corrected him, and moved on. 

He’d accidentally spilled his drink on the table, and Roman had just shut down his string of prepared apologies with an almost odd smile before actually offering to clean it up himself. 

(Virgil had, of course, shut the offer down. He knew what they were doing, pretending his mistakes could be overlooked, but it didn’t mean he was useless. He was still trying to be good)

Virgil had even bumped right into Logan the other day, moving too fast through the darkened hallway in his haste to get to his room, causing the logical side to stumble and drop some papers he’d been holding. Virgil hadn’t even gotten a chance to open his mouth before Logan had gracefully picked up the papers, gently told Virgil to slow down, and continued on his way. 

It was...really kind of sweet, once he realized what they were doing. They knew he was wary, knew he wanted this so badly. So they were giving him extra chances, careful to be gentle as he settled in, not wanting him to duck out again. 

But now, weeks later, things had been changing. Not in a bad way, of course. Far from it. Things were just...more comfortable. More familiar. He was actually starting to feel like a part of their family, like maybe he could actually belong, and the others seemed to actually agree, gradually relaxing in his presence. 

Of course, it also meant all those extra chances wouldn’t be handed out freely anymore. He couldn’t expect to get away with things so easily now that he was settled in. 

Which was why he really shouldn’t be sneaking into Logan’s room. 

He was just...he needed something to do. His anxiety had been through the roof since he’d woken up, making him antsy and restless, and with the others busy all day he hadn’t had an outlet since breakfast. 

He’d noticed Logan had been lost in a book for the past few days, rambling on about it a bit once he was finished that morning, and while Virgil couldn’t exactly remember any details, something about the title and general idea had piqued his interest. Or maybe he was just desperate at this point. 

It had been a while since he’d been able to get into a good book, but it usually did help him calm down. 

And of course he could just ask Logan but...he could all too easily picture the logical side mocking the request or turning him down without question, and while Virgil knew it was unrealistic, he couldn’t muster up the courage. 

But it was fine. He knew what the cover looked like, he’d find the book, read it alone in his room, and return it when he got the chance. 

Easy. 

Except...well, that thought went right out the window as soon as he actually stepped inside. In hindsight, he should have seen it coming with how much Logan valued literature. 

He just hadn’t expected Logan’s bookshelf to be so big. 

Jesus, how many books could a guy even read? Logan barely even had any free time as it was. His library took up an entire wall, floor to ceiling, and Virgil didn’t think he’d ever seen so many books in his entire life. It was like something out of the fantasy stories Logan liked to deny enjoying. 

Virgil knew he should turn back. He was still trespassing, and there was no way he’d find the specific book he was looking for in the limited time he had. 

But...maybe the specific book didn’t even matter. He could find something to read, maybe even a few, just to keep him occupied until Logan was distracted in a few days and he could return them. 

He carefully shut the door behind him, waiting a moment like Logan would pop up at any moment, and carefully approached the shelf.

They were all clearly meticulously organized, first by genre, then author in alphabetical order, and Virgil wondered how long it had taken Logan to do. 

He scanned the genres: fiction, nonfiction, historical fiction, sci-fi, textbooks, articles…

There was a brief moment of panic as he ran his finger along some of the book’s spines, frantically wondering if he would even be able to put it back in the right place, and what Logan would do if he found out Virgil had stolen-- 

“Greetings, Virgil.” 

Virgil jumped so hard his shoulder slammed into the edge of the shelf, fear and realization hitting full force as two books toppled over and fell to the ground, leaving behind silence louder than a gunshot. 

Virgil was frozen like a deer in headlights, gaze locked on Logan who was giving the fallen books a quizzical look. 

“Apologies for startling you,” he said, which was not how Virgil was expecting this to start, but it was almost worse than the anger he knew was coming. “I hadn’t expected you to be in here.” 

Virgil tried not to flinch, legs feeling like jello, panicked mind running through endless possibilities of how this was going to go. He’d seen Logan angry, of course, heard him yell, seen him lose himself to frustrated rants. 

It was impossible to know for sure how Logan would handle this, though. Handle him. He would want to discover the best method for a lasting impression, right? He’d probably been waiting to experiment different responses. 

“Virgil?”

“Sorry,” Virgil said quickly, realizing he’d gone silent. “Sorry, I wasn’t...um, I wasn’t stealing. I-I know how it looks but I promise I was gonna bring them back I was just...I-I knew you were busy so…” 

He trailed off, heart sinking when it occurred to him just how guilty he sounded. He was a thief whether he was going to return them or not, and here he was, babbling like a scared child in front of the evidence. 

He swallowed, knowing there was no way out of it. He shouldn’t be trying to make excuses. “S-sorry.” 

He couldn’t meet Logan’s eyes, but he saw the logical side take a cautious step forward. “You were...oh, the books. Virgil, if you were interested in borrowing some reading material you could have simply asked.” 

Virgil did flinch this time, the reminder like a punch to the gut. God, why couldn’t he have just asked. A few seconds of anxiety and a bit of awkwardness would have been worth avoiding this. 

What the hell was wrong with him? How could he sneak around and steal from the people he tried so hard to earn the trust of? 

“I...I know,” he managed. “I just...sorry. I shouldn’t have, um, yeah. I know I shouldn’t have snuck in.” 

“Oh, it’s quite alright,” Logan said, the blood rushing to Virgil’s ears as he came closer, voice nearly drowned out by his own racing heart. “It can hardly be considered sneaking- you do live here. Besides, I’ve read most of these already so you are welcome to--” 

At the moment, all Virgil registered was Logan’s presence now beside him, and the hand moving forward just in the corner of his vision. 

He was moving before he had the chance to even think about it, crumpling to the ground out of Logan’s reach, hands moving to protect his face, hunching his shoulders and waiting for the blow. 

The blow that...that didn’t come. 

“Virgil.” 

Virgil flinched at his voice, biting his tongue to keep from whimpering. He could feel Logan standing above him, annoyed even more now, no doubt. What was he waiting for? 

“Virgil,” he said again, softer this time. “Will you look at me, please?” 

Oh. Oh, of course. Logan wouldn’t want to punish Virgil if he wasn’t sure the anxious side was even aware enough to understand. He wanted Virgil to see what he deserved.

He got that. He understood. 

So he nodded, hating how hard it was, digging his nails into his palm when he felt himself growing dangerously close to hyperventilating. He wouldn’t let himself fall under a panic attack. He wouldn’t hurt Thomas because of this. 

Virgil slowly raised his head, realizing idly that he was shaking. His throat felt tight, eyes burning, and Virgil kind of wished he could just hit himself. 

God, what was wrong with him? He wasn’t going to cry. He couldn’t. He’d known what he was doing, knew all too well what would happen if he fucked it up, and he had (of course he had). 

He deserved this. It was fine. 

He was, however, mildly surprised to find Logan lowered to his level, the logical side crouched down on the balls of his feet, watching Virgil with an almost worried frown. 

“Take some deep breaths, please,” he said. “I was only going to help you pick the books up off the floor. I apologize if I moved too quickly.” 

Virgil shook his head, clenching his jaw to keep the teas at bay, not even sure how he was supposed to respond to that. Why the hell was Logan apologizing? 

“It’s...it’s whatever,” he managed. “Sorry for, uh, you know. F-freaking out like...like that.” 

“It’s quite alright.”

Virgil took a shaky breath, realizing Logan’s silence was probably him waiting to make sure he wasn’t about to send Virgil over the edge in any way that could affect Thomas.

His heart was in no way slowing, dread and apprehension rising unbearably but...but the waiting was only going to make it worse, the anticipation sickening. Best to get it over with. 

“Alright,” he said, almost impressed with how steady his voice came out. “I’m ready.” 

Virgil expected something to happen right then and there. He was less than prepared for the hesitation followed by...nothing? 

“Ready?” Logan echoed. “Ready for...what?” 

Virgil forced himself the shrug, still not able to quite reach Logan’s eyes, struggling to maintain nonchalance he didn’t feel in the slightest.

“I don’t know,” he muttered. “However, uh...however you wanted to do it, I guess. Whatever you’re gonna do.” 

A beat of silence and Virgil remained tense, bracing himself, willing himself to relax and take it. But all that happened was Logan awkwardly clearing his throat, leaning back on his heels. 

“Well,” he said. “I...had only planned on replacing the fallen books and assisting you in picking out some things to read.” 

Virgil nodded, blinking furiously to push back tears fighting to break through. “Ok? Uh, you mean...before or-or after?” 

“I’m...I’m afraid I don’t understand,” Logan admitted, incredibly out of character. “Have I missed something? What...exactly do you believe is happening?” 

Virgil wasn't exactly sure why that mattered. Was this...was this part of it? Making sure he understood? 

“Uhm, I-I broke into your room? I mean...I know I shouldn’t have taken your stuff without asking. I know...I know that’s not ok. I’m sorry.” 

He saw Logan tilt his head slightly, frown deepening. “It really is not an issue, Virgil. My books aren’t exactly locked away. I would only prefer you ask next time so I do not end up startling you, but you’re reacting as if I--” 

He stopped himself, and Virgil saw the moment realization dawned, something in Logan’s expression hardening. 

Oh. Of course. Logan hadn’t been sure Virgil would know something like this was coming. 

But he did, of course. He understood, as much as he hated it. He was anxiety, there wasn’t any other way to handle him. There wasn’t a choice. 

“Ah,” Logan said, softer than before. “I see.” 

Virgil nodded again, heart still racing so fast he thought Logan might be able to hear it, glad that now they could at least get it over with. 

But Logan still wasn’t moving, still talking in that achingly gentle voice. “Virgil, I have no intention of harming you in any way. I’m not even remotely upset with you.” 

And that...that didn’t make any sense. Virgil had literally just gone into someone else’s room without permission, and Logan had just said he’d prefer to be asked so why--?

Unless...unless he was being given another chance. Again. Another chance he didn’t deserve in favor of over the top friendliness. 

“Don’t,” he said, before he could even consider stopping himself. “Don’t keep doing this, Logan, please I...it’s ok, you guys don’t have to keep pretending. I know you’re angry, I know--” 

“I’m not angry,” Logan interrupted, firm but somehow still gentle, and Virgil shrank back. “I believe we have a larger issue to discuss as a group but for now please understand that I am not angry with you. And even if I was, I would never intentionally bring you any harm. I know for a fact the others would not either.” 

Virgil shook his head, hating all of this, hating feeling small and pitied, hated delaying the inevitable like things could work any other way. 

He hated the treacherous, nagging hope in his chest. 

“But they will,” he insisted. “You all will, I know you're just...waiting to make sure I won’t leave again but I won’t. I know it's how it works, ok? It’s fine.” 

The lie tasted like acid on his tongue. But some of it was true, at least. He wouldn’t try to leave again. He was finally feeling like a part of things. And if he was good, well...maybe that could last. 

Logan was silent for a long moment, and Virgil was just beginning to think he’d finally managed to convince him to set the pity aside when he was speaking again.

“Virgil, do you think you could accompany me to the commons? I believe it is imperative to discuss this with the others.” 

Virgil froze, realizing he may have just made a simple situation worse by raising his voice. Did Logan really need to get everyone? It was bad enough that just Logan was upset with him but all of them...

But he knew better than to risk any further anger by arguing. And Logan was carefully offering a hand, palm up, no sudden movements or pain when Virgil hesitantly took it and was helped to his feet, so maybe...maybe Logan wasn’t actually angry. 

Not right now, at least. 

Logan led them down the hallway to the living room, Virgil unable to stop his trembling the entire time, legs a bit unsteady and weak. He almost wished the short walk took longer, dread building up in his gut the closer he got like a man being led to the gallows. 

He had to remind himself to breathe when he saw both Patton and Roman already there, lounging casually, all smiles amid easy conversation. 

Logan cleared his throat, Virgil left to shift awkwardly beside him, the other two sides immediately glancing up with bright, welcoming smiles. 

Virgil felt guilt twist in his gut at having to ruin that. 

“I believe,” Logan started. “That we need to have a...family meeting, as Patton might call it. There’s been a bit of a miscommunication that needs clearing up.” 

“Everything alright?” Roman asked as Patton, cheerful as ever, waved them both over. Logan didn’t answer, and Virgil was too busy staring at the ground to think of a reply. 

He ended up being seated on the couch beside Roman, Patton sitting across from him and Logan standing at the arm of the couch. For a moment nobody spoke, Roman and Patton clearly at a loss. 

“Virgil,” Logan prompted. “Would you mind telling the others what happened from your point of view?” 

Virgil’s eyes widened, head snapping up to look at Logan with something almost like betrayal, and any hope he’d had that this was going to be forgiven without consequences suddenly vanished. 

But Logan was quick to reassure him, hand moving to rest against Virgil’s clenched fist. “I assure you, nothing about my previous statements will change. I only want to ensure they have all the context.” 

Virgil shakily nodded, like he had any choice in the matter, trying not to wince when his voice came out small and breathy when he finally spoke. 

“I...I went into Logan’s room,” he admitted, waiting for yelling that never came. “While he was with Thomas. I-I was looking for something to read but-but I was going to give it back, I promise, I wasn’t stealing I was just too anxious to ask, so I--” 

“Wait,” Roman interjected, curiosity turning to something close to amusement. “That’s all you did? I steal from Logan all the time!” 

Logan blinked. “You what?” 

“Kiddos,” Patton chided, unable to help the small smile on his lips. “Now we usually don’t go into people’s rooms without asking but I’m sure Logan understood. What’s this all about?” 

Virgil suddenly had absolutely no idea how to respond, this entire conversation now taking a much different turn than he’d expected. 

What the hell was happening? Was this...part of it? It sure felt like he was being punished, but Patton’s smile was as genuine as ever. 

Logan leaned forward, furrowing his brow. 

“Virgil can you tell us what you believe is going to happen to you? What you thought was happening when I found you?” 

Virgil, far too lost to do anything but comply blindly, couldn’t understand why Patton and Roman suddenly looked so confused. 

“I was...I was going to be punished, right?” He didn’t understand the purpose of making him explain something everyone already knew. “I mean, Logan said he wasn’t mad so I guess I’m getting another chance but any other time I would’ve--” 

“Wait a minute, what?” It was Roman’s turn to sound baffled, all his attention now focused solely on Virgil. “Punished? What do you mean, like- like grounding you? You aren’t a child, Virge.” 

“I do not think that’s what he meant.” 

“But he...Logan, he--” 

“Virgil believed,” Logan cut him off, sounding more hesitant than Virgil had ever heard him. “That some type of...physical punishment was inevitable. At least, that is what I gathered.”  

“You think we’re going to hit you?” Patton’s voice, verging on frantic, easily overpowered the others. “Over this? Over anything?” 

Virgil flinched back against the couch, desperately trying to figure out what he’d done wrong, how he’d managed to make this so much worse than it was just five minutes ago. 

“I don’t...I'm sorry?” 

“We’re not going to punish you, kiddo,” he said, the word ‘punish’ almost spat out like something sour. “We’d never do that to you! Never.” 

And oh, that was Patton, trying so hard to be kind, even when he was so visibly furious. Looking out for all of them to the end. Careful not to let Virgil’s emotions affect Thomas. 

“You guys don’t have to keep doing this.” 

Patton blinked, trying and failing to get Virgil to meet his eyes. “Keep doing what, kiddo?” 

“I’m not gonna duck out again,” he said, the smile he offered meant to be reassuring but he was certain it was wobbly and frail. “I-I like it here. With you guys. You don’t need to keep...cutting me all this slack. I know I keep messing up and I know if this is going to...work I have to be--” 

“What the hell are you talking about?” 

Roman’s language wasn’t even corrected, Patton hardly acknowledging the outburst at all, but the moral side looked somehow just as furious. 

And there it was, genuine fear and panic returning with a vengeance, the sudden knowledge that he’d probably done irreversible damage in an effort to reassure them. 

“Kiddo you...what is it that you think you’ve done wrong? You’re not...oh my god, you’re not talking about the little things, are you? Spills or- or misplacing something or...or…” 

“I- yeah?” Because what else would he be talking about? “I’ve been...I’ve been trying to be good, so I-I don’t think I’ve done anything else to--” 

“Is that how you think we handle things?” Roman was rigid beside him, his fury overwhelming, and Virgil hoped one of them would hurry up and just knock him unconscious. “So, what? If Logan drops something am I just supposed to hit him?” 

“Roman,” Logan said, sounding oddly choked. “Please.” 

And oh. Oh. The realization hit like a punch to the gut, and Virgil realized all at once why they were so upset with him. He hadn’t done anything wrong, it was just a stupid misunderstanding. 

Oh, god. 

“No!” He insisted, voice a little stronger in his desperation for them to understand their mistake. “No, of course not! That’s not...guys, that's not what I meant.” 

The tension in the room dropped a bit, Prince relaxing just slightly, but three pairs of eyes were still watching, painfully concerned. 

“Sorry, I’m so sorry I didn’t realize you thought that,” Virgil continued, a little lightheaded. “Not you guys, never you guys. Obviously not, you all wouldn’t...you shouldn’t be punished like that. Ever. I promise I was just talking about me.” 

He expected relief, understanding, and hopefully to just get this whole thing over with so they could hurry up and go back to normal. 

But apparently he’d only managed to make everyone even more distressed. Logan and Roman’s eyes had gone wide and Patton...Patton had tears streaming down his face. 

“Why would you think that?” It was quiet, barely a whisper, but Virgil had never heard Patton sound so furious, so cold and lifeless. 

“I...I don’t know why you’re--” 

“Virgil why would you think that?” Patton was standing now, taking a step away from the couch with a hand moving to cover his mouth. Logan reached for his shoulder, only to be quickly shrugged off. 

“Patton, please attempt to calm down.” 

“But he...he said...why, Virge? Why just you?” 

Virgil blinked, fighting to swallow past the lump in his throat, still hopelessly lost to what he’d managed to do wrong. Did they...not know? Even Logan? Wasn’t it just...common sense? 

“It’s...because it’s me?” he offered weakly. “I-I’m anxiety. I tend to- to mess things up, guys. I have to be, you know, dealt with differently so it doesn't affect Thomas as much, right?”

He was met only with deafening silence, before Logan cleared his throat, looking for once like he wasn’t entirely sure what he should be saying. 

“That hardly seems logical,” he said, no malice behind it. “How would punishing you more severely do anything but succeed in making your mental state worse?” 

“I...I don’t know. But it works. It makes me more...cautious. You guys haven’t really had to deal with me and my fuck ups before but now that I’m here you’ll have to...I just uh, figured you knew this, I guess. I thought everyone did.” 

“No,” Roman said, hardly audible at all. “We didn’t.” 

Oh. Well...at least it was out now. Virgil may not like it, but he knew getting hurt sometimes was necessary. If it made their lives better, it was worth it in the long run. 

But still…

The thought that if he’d only known, realized sooner that their willingness to let things go and love him unconditionally really was genuine, he could have maybe lived without the fear of punishment for the first time in so long. 

So much for that. All he’d done now was manage to make them angry, and he honestly wasn’t even sure what he’d done to make them all so upset.  

“Who told you that?” Roman asked, Virgil wincing despite himself. “Was it...if it was my brother--” 

“It wasn’t,” Virgil said, not really sure if that was the answer Roman wanted, but it was the truth. Remus and Janus had never been the ones to use any sort of physical violence on him, though Virgil never had any doubt that they could. “It was the others. I...they told me...I really thought you guys knew.” 

Now, looking at it from a suddenly concerning perspective, he wasn’t even sure Remus or Janus had known. 

“Sorry,” Virgil said to the silence, not even sure why anymore. “It wasn’t always that bad. That’s why I asked Logan, I wasn’t sure how you guys...uh, planned on doing it but apparently you didn’t even know you had to so we can--” 

And suddenly Patton was gone, stalking through the kitchen doorway, practically leaving behind a visible trail of utter fury as he went, and Logan was following with one last worried glance over his shoulder. 

Oh god, they were both mad. He’d managed to upset everyone, ruin everything in one conversation, and he couldn’t even apologize properly because he still didn’t know what he’d done wrong. 

He’d just been trying to tell them it was ok, that there was no other way to deal with him, that it really wasn’t that big of a deal. He hated it, sure. It terrified him. He wanted so badly for it to stop but it couldn’t, it…

It couldn’t. Could it? 

He felt Roman shift on the couch, probably to hurry and follow the others into the kitchen to get away from the mess on the couch they’d accidentally welcomed into their family. 

Before he could stop himself Virgil was reaching forward, grabbing Roman’s sleeve with a weak, trembling hand. 

“Please.” And there was absolutely no point in trying to hide the unsteady wobble of his voice. “Will you...I-I just don’t know what I did wrong.” 

“Oh, Virgil.” 

When Prince moved, there was a split second of blind panic where Virgil thought he was being attacked. But it faded as soon as he registered strong arms around him, pulling him against Roman’s chest, and Virgil immediately burst into tears. 

Roman was shushing him gently, holding him tight but somehow not uncomfortably confining, running his fingers through Virgil’s hair as he muttered quiet reassurances. 

Virgil could only sob into his chest, overtaken by hiccuping gasps that left him dizzy and weak and unable to stop. 

And yet he was distantly aware that through his tears he hadn’t stopped his string of endless apologies, the desperate words falling without his permission. 

“You’re alright, darling,” Roman said, impossibly soft. “You’re alright. You didn’t do anything wrong.” 

“I-I ma-made him mad,” he insisted, breath catching on nearly every word as he tried in vain to calm down enough to speak properly. “Patton, I-I...h-he was mad, he’s upset and he’s...he’ll--” 

“Patton isn’t angry,” Roman said. “He’s just a little upset. But not at you! You haven’t done anything.” 

“But I…” he paused, aware enough to consider the words before he said them, how utterly unfair and selfish they were. But maybe…

“I don’t want you guys to hurt me.” 

“We would never,” Roman said, holding tighter without hesitation. “I know you won’t believe this right away, and you’ll need to hear it from the others too, but just listen to me for now, ok?” 

Roman pulled back, but only slightly. Virgil could still feel the Prince's heart beneath his own shaking fingers, and the creative side carefully cupped Virgil’s face in his hands. 

“Nobody will ever hurt you again, Virgil. Nobody. I know we’ve only recently become friends, but I swear to you, for the rest of your life, you never have to be afraid of that again. Not from me, not from the others. Not from anyone.” 

Virgil struggled to breathe, chest aching, lungs screaming for air, but the tears wouldn’t stop flowing. “But they...you have to th-they said--” 

“They were lying,” Princey said, with so much venom Virgil had to forcibly remind himself that Roman wasn’t angry with him. “You heard Logan, it doesn’t make sense. No one should...you didn’t deserve that, Virge.” 

But...but he’d...all this time he’d just…

“Patton will you please--” 

“No, Logan! I can’t I- did you hear him?” 

Patton and Logan were still in the next room over, and Virgil could now just make out the two of them standing at the threshold. He forced himself not to whimper at the obvious anger that came from both of them, but didn’t stop himself from clutching at Roman tighter, beyond grateful when Princey did the same. 

“I did,” Logan said. “I was standing right there. But Patton--” 

“How could they…god, how could they just--?” 

“Patton.” Logan hadn’t yelled, not exactly, but it was loud and stern enough to quiet the other’s rant. “I know. I understand that you’re upset- we all are. But right now Virgil thinks you’re upset with him.” 

Virgil’s breath hitched in the sudden silence that followed, doing his best to focus instead on Roman’s breathing, feeling the Prince move to rub along Virgil’s back, still hushing and whispering quiet reassurances. 

He cringed when he heard a tiny gasp followed quickly by two pairs of footsteps making their way towards the couch, and he wondered just how far Roman would have to go to keep his promise. 

“Oh, baby I’m so sorry.” That was Patton’s voice right above him, soft and sad and...and no longer quite so angry. “Honey...can you look at me please?” 

Virgil tensed, reluctantly moving his head away from Roman’s chest, face burning as he let the others see his tear stained face, heart clenching when he realized Patton wasn’t much better off.  

“Sorry,” Virgil whispered, guided more on frantic instinct than anything else. “Sorry, sorry, I’m sorry.” 

“You have nothing to be sorry for.” Patton reached forward, slow and nonthreatening, lacing his fingers with Virgil’s. “I’m sorry. I’m not angry with you, kiddo. Nobody’s gonna hurt you. We would never do that.” 

And god, Virgil wanted so badly to believe that, to hold onto every word, every sympathetic gaze, everything that was so clearly real love rather than pity and never let it go. 

He wanted to feel safe with them. He wanted it more than anything. 

But...but they had all been angry. He’d seen it just moments ago, heard the unmistakable fury in their voices. 

And maybe he’d spoken aloud without realizing, or maybe Logan was just exceptionally good at reading him, because suddenly the logical side was crouched beside Patton, carefully meeting Virgil’s watery eyes. 

“We were not angry at you,” he said slowly. “We’re only angry at whoever thought it was alright to hurt you. Who made you think you could ever deserve it.” 

 “But I…” he didn’t know why he was arguing, why he was frantically searching for reasons to destroy something he wanted to desperately. He settled for the only reason he’d ever really been given. “I’m anxiety.” 

“You do represent Thomas’s fears, yes,” Logan said. “As well as many other fundamental functions.”  

“That doesn’t make you bad, kiddo,” Patton chimed in.  “We love you. All of you. We’re all gonna mess up sometimes, and that’s ok. Mistakes are part of being human.” 

“Well technically we are not human,” Logan pointed out, earning an exasperated sigh from Roman. “But Patton’s point still stands. Each and every one of us will make mistakes. That is, of course, why we have each other. Not to punish, but to assist each other.” 

And that...wow, that sounded good. Impossibly good. God, how did he manage to surround himself with the kindest people in the universe? 

“But what if I…” he swallowed, trying to figure out how to phrase his worries. “If I do something wrong, like...like really bad--” 

“Then we will discuss it as a group,” Logan said. “And work together to determine what happened and how to fix it without any lasting negative effects. Not just for Thomas, but for all of us.” 

“Indeed!” Roman agreed with his usual flair, reaching around to lightly squeeze Patton and Virgil’s intertwined fingers. “And if any of the others attempt to bring you harm again, they’ll have to get through me first!” 

“All of us,” Patton said, wiping his eyes with his free hand and flashing Princey a grateful smile. “We won’t let that happen to you again.” 

Virgil shrugged, overwhelmed, aware the gesture did nothing to mask the emotion in his eyes. “It’s...it’s really ok, you guys. They aren’t like you, they were just...doing what they thought they had to.” 

Logan frowned, averting his gaze. “Unlikely.” 

“That doesn’t make it ok,” Patton said before Virgil could question exactly what that meant. He wasn’t sure he wanted to know. “And we can see it left you really afraid, kiddo.” 

“I-I guess. Yeah.” 

“Sometimes talking about traumatic experiences can be the first step to moving past them,” Logan said. “And we will, of course, be willing to listen and help however we can.” 

Virgil... didn’t really want to talk about. He still wasn't quite able to wrap his head around the fact that it wasn’t a necessity, never actually had been, a part of him still wholly convinced this was some kind of cruel, awful trick. 

But...but Logan was looking at him with such gentle earnestness, Roman and Patton both nodding and smiling in gentle encouragement, those doubts were quickly being pushed to the side. At least for now. 

They all looked so eager to help, Virgil couldn’t bring himself to shut them down the way his panicked brain, so used to isolation, was screaming at him to do. 

And besides, maybe it could help. Maybe talking would help him come to terms with...whatever it really was that had happened. 

But not right now. He wasn't sure he could handle anything else. 

“Maybe,” he said after a moment. “Just, uh...not now. I don’t...I mean, i-if that’s ok, I don’t think I’m...ready.” 

“Of course, sweetie,” Patton said, not sounding disappointed in the slightest, only understanding and patient. “Whenever you’re ready. You can come to us in your own time.” 

“Is there...anything we can do for you now?” Roman asked. “Anything to make you feel better?” 

“I guess, uh-” he paused, wondering if it was too much, too selfish a thing to ask. “Maybe just...stay here for a bit? All of us? Only if- if you aren’t busy, obviously, it’s ok if you are, I just thought maybe--” 

“I think that is an excellent suggestion, Virgil,” Logan said. “Having some company will do you good.” 

Patton practically squealed, squeezing Virgil’s hand before hurrying to his feet,  blinding smile on his face. “Ooh! We can make some snacks and bring some blankets over! Be right back!” 

Virgil was carefully maneuvered (probably a bit overly careful, like he was glass that could shatter at any moment) so he was now comfortably pressed against Logan’s side, Roman hurrying to follow Patton with promises to return in seconds, departing with a kiss to Virgil’s forehead. 

Virgil was almost surprised when Logan’s arm moved to wrap around his shoulders, keeping him close, almost as protective and warm as Roman. He’d have thought Logan would be more averse to physical content. 

He’d never been so glad to be mistaken, basking in the warmth like it was a sunlit room. 

Virgil took a breath, breathing a bit easier now. “I really am sorry. I probably...really freaked you out, huh?” 

“No apologies necessary,” Logan said. “I believe it’s safe to say you were much more...err, freaked out, as you would say.” 

Virgil smiled, relaxing into his hold, but there was still something heavy sitting in his chest, nagging at him to voice it aloud. 

“I feel like an idiot.” 

“You shouldn’t.” 

“But I do.” He didn’t move, terrified he’d lose his nerve without the warmth at his side. “I...it was stupid. All of this. I actually thought that...I still don’t really think that this can work. Without...doing all that when I screw up. I want to but it’s...I thought there wasn’t any other way.” 

“There is no reason for you to be held to a different standard than anyone else,” Logan said, slow and careful. “We plan only on treating you as an equal. As someone we care very much for.” 

“I should have known,” he muttered. “You guys are r-really...really great. I shouldn’t have accused you of that.” 

There was a beat of silence that stretched on just a moment too long, and any other time Virgil might have taken that as a perfectly reasonable excuse to begin panicking all over again. 

But with Logan’s protective hold still firmly around him, the easy warmth in his chest that lingered from everyone’s kind words...he couldn’t find it in him to be particularly worried over Logan taking a moment to think. 

“You did not accuse us of anything,” the logical side said, continuing before Virgil could argue. “You reacted to what you assumed to be normal, no one can fault you for that. You’ve been taught to have a very particular mindset. As...upsetting as it is, your reaction was perfectly logical based on the information you had.” 

Logan’s arm moved, just for a moment, to reach around and squeeze Virgil’s hand, just like Patton and Roman had done, just another reminder of newfound safety. 

“What we need to do now,” Logan said. “Is work on making sure you never feel that way again.” 

Virgil nodded against him, finding that, at least for the moment,  his want to believe, to be safe and welcomed, was enough to outweigh the storm of doubt in his racing mind. 

“Ok,” he said, glancing up just in time to see Logan’s relieved smile, loosening his hold as Roman and Patton hurried back to the living room. “Thank you.” 

As the four of them settled down and rearranged themselves, there was an all too familiar burning in Virgil’s eyes, a tight twisting in his chest. But this time, it wasn’t from panic or fear.

This time, if he cried from this feeling, from being content and accepted, it might not be the worst thing in the world. 

#sanders sides #fanfiction #thomas sanders #virgil sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #ts virgil #ts logan #ts patton #ts roman #polysanders #prinxiety #analogical #moxiety #angst #writing

[sidespromptblog]

Between the Mask: Part 3

One, Two and End

Warnings: Again plenty of tears, Virgil kinda mouths off about Janus, and Logan gets a little salty about it. 

Summary: Roman confronts Janus about how exactly he should treat him after being told that being both nice and mean to him was wrong. Only to discover that after everything that he’d been through, Janus isn’t the person that he portrays in front of everyone else. 

Word Count: 3013

AO3 LINK

Despite everything that had been promised, it started out rather slow. So much so that it felt like it was driving Roman to absolute madness, he knew as well as the others that they couldn't just rush into this without any kind of warning. They needed to build up to revealing everything, along with the fact that Logan wasn't even ready yet to face Patton let alone Virgil. Doing it too soon could and very well would go wrong, and the last thing that he wanted was for things to go back to the way that they were before. He didn't want Logan to go back to being holed up in his room, unable to be reached by anybody. Or for Janus to go back to putting on his persona every time he wanted to be even a little accepted, even if it was as the villain.

Virgil, who already panicked at the slightest hint of change in his and Thomas' life. There was no telling just how he’d react as soon as Janus showed his face to all of them, let alone with Roman now openly supporting him in everything he was doing. Not only would it make Virgil feel left out of the loop, but… it would make him paranoid as hell as to what Janus was plotting and if he had been plotting at all to turn everything around like that. Because whether he liked it or not, Roman knew Virgil, and he knew somewhat to how Virgil would react to all of this.

They needed to be smart about this.

But coincidentally… having to be smart about things just sucked.

Honestly Roman felt like he was trying to get a herd of feral cats to get used to the mere idea of comfort and love, something that Janus had been sorely lacking in the many many years of his Deceit role. As well as getting the idea across to the others that this was something that they should accept while making it all seem like it wasn’t some huge plot from the very beginning. Doing so would only shift the blame onto Janus, leaving him right where he first began with not a single shred of hope to be had for him.

Small steps, as Logan had said to Janus and him.

But small steps didn't make enduring this any easier.

Because for the first time in more than a week, Logan had answered Thomas' call to see him without any kind of hesitation. He had done so without his tie and his hair a little less than neat, it was a change, the first change that he had talked about making in order to ease the others into things. But even that little bit was almost instantly noticed by everyone. The looks that he had received from Virgil and Patton made Logan unconsciously squirm in his spot, the urge to dig his nails into his palms almost overwhelming to him. It took a conscious effort to remain perfectly still, and not fidgeting with the area where his tie would have been. Really though it felt like his progress that he was supposed to be making might as well have been moving at the pace of a snail, with how much the others seemed to notice everything about him.

Whether he wanted it or not.

"What's with the new look Logan?" Patton curiously inquired, "We just changed our outfits not that long ago, is it time for another one?"

Even the smallest and carefullest of prods from Patton felt like a harsh poke to Logan, even if the moral side didn't mean it to be. The other side had no idea that the tiniest little question could flay Logan’s emotions, leaving him wanting to retreat back into himself without a moments notice. As if… as if everything that he did was under constant question, and he couldn't just be without someone bringing up what he was doing. For a hot second he felt like curling into himself, as if that would draw less attention to himself. Or just receding back to his room like he had done before, and never showing his face.

It felt just like the infinitesimal incident.

Thankfully Roman sensing his rapidly dropping mood turned the attention to himself. "If he likes it that way then who are we to question it? Maybe it's more comfortable, I know it would be for me. Even my glorious sash becomes too much for me sometimes, and I wish for nothing more than relinquish it of its duties." It took a lot out of Roman to not immediately move to where Logan was, and to stand in front of him getting there gaze off of the nervous logical side. But even he realized that doing so would only sink their plan before it had even begun. "He looks nice without it, doesn’t he? Right Padre?"

The affectionate name was not lost on Patton, and nor was the question being brought to light. In Patton’s eyes, any change from the norm deserved its time in the light so it could either be praised or worried about. But now that the attention drifted over to Patton, his cheeks turned scarlet at the realization of the fact that he had unintentionally been putting Logan on the spot just for a single change of the logical side’s attire. He had never stopped to consider whether or not Logan wanted it to be brought up in such a way, or if he even wanted it brought up at all. He had just done so…

Kind of like when he had just blurted out Logan’s name before Logan had decided to tell it to Thomas.  

“You do look nice though…” Virgil mumbled from the side, his fingers clenching and unclenching the hem of his hoodie fighting through his anxiety of the awkward situation to get even a single compliment out of him. “Your hair… it’s… hair.”

The tiniest of smiles cracked on Logan’s lips, and just like that the protective storm welling up inside of Roman flew right out of him. Just that single quirk of his lips seemed to lighten up the logical side’s whole face in a way that had been sorely lacking before, nobody least of all Roman knew when the last time that Logan had smiled was. It felt like almost an eternity ago, when Logan still had that faded polo shirt and that pale blue tie, that was close to the last time he had seen Logan look over to him with a smile of pure excitement on his face. Not one that had constantly crushed and forced over the years that everything had been happening, especially not that one.

“He’s right,” Patton’s voice dragged Roman out of his own musing. “Your hair is lovely Logan, so.. so if you want to experiment with your style. I won’t comment on it unless you want me to.” A part of Roman felt a great deal of shock at the fatherly figure’s words, but another part of him knew that when it came to their own close circle of ordeals Patton would promise anything to make the other side more comfortable.

There was no doubt that Patton would mean those words, and there was no doubt that he’d try to stick with it too given how much their little family meant to him. It was just a matter of whether Logan would feel confident enough and comfortable enough to come to him in the future.

Logan’s gaze didn’t exactly meet Patton’s, evidence enough of the rift that had grown between them from Patton’s last actions when it had come to Logan being in the last video. “Thank you,” Behind his back Logan’s nails dug into his palm, biting harshly into it. Now here came the curve ball. “Janus has made a few suggestions, so I’ll be sure to show you when I begin to try them out.”

Just like that it was almost like the warmth in the room had been sucked out by a vacuum.

“Jan..us?” The letters of the dishonest side’s name stuck to the room of Patton’s mouth like peanut butter. “Huh?”

The confusion was clear, and the tension in the air palpable.

Almost immediately Roman wanted to motion to Logan to abandon such a topic of conversation, as judging by the way that Virgil’s shoulders had suddenly stopped hunching and the anxious side now stood towering with a withering look on his face… he clearly wasn’t ready to hear about Janus in any kind of capacity. There wasn’t anything that Logan could do to change that, especially if Patton couldn’t do anything about it considering that he was the closest one to Virgil right now. Asking Virgil to humor any kind of discussion involving Janus was as useful as asking him to stick his hands in a bee nest, not only would he not do it, but he’d probably smack the person who suggested it in the first place. It was just how Virgil was as a side, change was… bad for him, him and the anxiety he subconsciously produced.

“You’ve… been talking with Janus?” Thomas spoke up for the first time since Logan had shown up, the amazement that Logan had shown up had shifted into something that kind of resembled softness as he looked back at the logical side in question. His entire body had shifted from facing Patton and even Virgil, to now facing Logan. He gave the logical side his full attention for once. “Is that what you’ve been doing since you were gone? Have you been okay with him being around you? Is he…”

Thomas’ words trailed off once he got to the topic of Janus, clearly he too wasn’t so certain about how he was supposed to even entertain the idea of Janus. Given how Janus had introduced himself though, Logan couldn’t fault him for that.

“He is fine.”

And that was the truth.

Nervously Thomas eyes shifted from Logan back over to Roman, obviously expecting some kind of reaction from Roman. Something like dismissal, anger, outrage, or just coldness. But there was nothing as Roman kept his gaze firmly attached to the other sides, he was stiff, but stiff in the kind of way that couldn’t be mistaken for anything else other than worry over how the others would react to Logan’s rather bold declaration of conversing with Janus when he had been avoiding Thomas and the others for as long as he had. For Virgil, it would undoubtedly feel like a betrayal and nothing more given the context, or the lack thereof that Logan had been so stingy about. But for Patton… Roman wasn’t sure, despite how the moral side had prided himself in being an open book, Roman knew remarkably little about his actual thought process. That’s what had made it so hard to see Janus’ acceptance coming from Patton, he had expected Patton to stick to his guns and be determined that lying was bad, so when he didn’t…

Patton was very much of a wild card, despite how the other side liked to downplay himself.

A short irritable huff left Virgil, “Really Logan?!” Snarled the anxious side, the eyeshadow dark and thick under his eyes. “You’re actually willingly talking with him?! After he silenced you?! Why would you ever want to be around him now, the last thing you should want to do is hang around him! Do you even know what he’s like?!”

In an instant Logan’s gaze snapped up from the ground, and Virgil felt a shot of ice slam into his chest.

The look in Logan’s eyes..  it was unlike anything he had seen before…. He had seen Logan’s unbridled anger when Roman had called him stupid, he had seen him snark before, and even get a touch underhanded when it had come to things he didn’t want to talk about and things that he didn’t want to do. But this… the sheer anger that reflected in Logan’s eyes now, for the first time… made Virgil very afraid.

He didn’t like it.

He didn’t like this new Logan.

“That’s enough V-” Roman almost immediately stepped forward, a familiar look of protective rage on his face ringing throughout his entire body. He had never once been provocted into drawing his sword against Virgil, but hearing him so dismissively talk about Janus as if he knew him… It made something inside of him rage, to want to snap at Virgil and tell him exactly what he knew about the real Janus and about how far off Virgil was from the actual truth.

Roman stopped dead as soon as Logan held his arm out, his chest merely brushing against the logical side’s arm with how close he had come in just two strides. But he held himself back from saying a single word, it was Logan’s time to talk…

Not his.

Not yet.

“As if you know the real him.” Logan didn’t shout, he didn’t need to for everyone to hear what he was about to say. “And he is by far not the first person who has attempted to silence me, but he is the first person who has actually apologized for doing so. So as far as you are concerned Virgil, I will continue to hang out with him and treat him as my friend. Because he is my friend.”

A look of twin guilt blended together on Patton and Virgil’s face, a look that had said they knew the not so hidden meaning behind Logan’s words and had understood every bit of it. They had never apologized, Virgil had actually threatened Logan when he had attempted to talk about Remus. And Patton… Patton had actually silenced Logan, whether he wanted to admit it to himself or not.

Virgil looked sick to his stomach, as if just now realizing. “Logan…” He murmured, unease and guilt swimming in his murky eyes.

Patton however could only stay silent, his hands clasped over his mouth in an attempt to stop any sound from leaving him as well as to stop the shaking of his own hands. His eyes though did all of the speaking for him, betraying how Roman had been unable to get a reading on him before, as they now told everything for him without the use of words.

I’m sorry. His eyes said. I understand why you left for as long as you did after what I did to you. And even… You were right to stay away, if we hadn’t even realized until now.  

“Don’t apologize,” Logan sharply said, cutting them to the core. “Don’t apologize to me unless you’re apologizing to Janus as well. He deserves better than a one-sided apology.” He was right, or at least Roman knew that he was right even if the others didn’t. “I will see you all at dinner, set another plate out for Janus.”

Logan’s steely gaze only softened when it landed on Roman, Roman had made his apologies loud and clear to him just days ago and he had apologized to Janus as well. Not only that…

They had both kept their promise to Janus.

“See you… Roman.”

And just like that Logan was gone, leaving a vacant space where he had once been standing. Leaving Roman there with an amber-like warmth in his chest, at the thought of returning to Janus’ cozy room where they could all sit and be together without a care as to who would interrupt them. Where they would be safe, and be their truest selves without the fear of outside eyes peering in and judging them.

“So…” Thomas awkwardly broke the silence, cold tears dripping down his cheeks as his voice cracked the moment he tried to use it. Both Patton and Virgil’s combined emotions hitting him with a kind of blunt force. “You’re not angry about Logan seeing Janus?”

A rough snort fell from Roman’s lips before he could stop himself. “Go take a nap and play a video game Thomas,” He instead gently told the man who certainly looked like he could use one. “I’m not angry about Janus, and I’m happy that Logan is finally happy. It’s the way he should be.” Being emotionless and robotic didn’t suit Logan, no matter how he liked to say in the past that it did. He was supposed to be the vibrance of curiosity, combined with the endless knowledge of things that had been learned. He was the one that knew all of humanity was made out of stardust.

He was never supposed to wither like he had.  

Thankfully Thomas didn’t argue, as he nodded tiredly to his creative side and staggered back towards his bedroom. Roman suspected that he was far too emotionally drained to do so even if he had wanted to at the time. He’d have time to endlessly question them all later, but now Thomas deserved some peace and relaxation without having to worry over what came next. He didn’t need Janus to tell him that much, Thomas wanted it, so Roman too wanted it. Turning around Roman moved to sink out just as Logan had, just for a hand on his shoulder to stop him dead in his tracks. Patton finally taking this time to gather his wits had finally reached out, twin streaks of tears running down his face.

“What did you mean?” Patton softly croaked, “When you said it was how he was supposed to be?”

Ah…

Roman grimaced, he didn’t want to answer questions right now, but… if he had any chance of getting the two off his back for even a little while he’d need to give them something. And it had to be something for them to think over. Something that would stop them from going after Logan as well, and even relax even the slightest around Janus and get the gears turning in their head. Something…

It had to be good.

Really good.

He knew what to ask.

“When was the last time you saw Logan smile?”

#logan sanders #ts logan #ts logan sanders #roman sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #ts sides #ts sanders sides #ts sanders sides fanfic #ts sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fanfic #platonic roloceit #they’re all really good friends and care for each other #logan angst #janus angst

[delimeful]

breathing cleaner air (1)

winner of fic poll, a new BTHB fic for halloween month! the prompt for this one was "Painful Transformation"!

warnings: body horror, painful transformation, fighting/violence, dehumanizing language, antagonist (but not unsympth) virgil, religious terms borrowed to name original monsters (no actual religious connections), miscommunication/language barrier, mortal peril, thinking youre going to die

extra note: this is a multichapter fic, but this first chapter ends on a very concerning note. there is an eventual happy ending in later chapters, promise!

-

Roman wasn’t sure exactly when he’d been separated from the rest of his entourage.

One moment, Logan was at his shoulder, his firm hand keeping Roman from stumbling over gnarled tree roots, and the next, he was alone, with only faint echoes of his own voice to keep him company.

Their quarry was certainly powerful, to be able to warp so much of the woods around them with thick fog and unnatural darkness. He should have expected as much.

After all, this was the same monster that had been infiltrating the Dimiour kingdom at night and stealing away children from their families. It would have to be strong in order to pull that off.

His right-hand knight would surely recommend retreating and regrouping in more neutral territory, but this was the first time they’d actually caught the fiend in the act. Seraphs were notoriously agile, with the maneuverability of the three sets of razor-sharp wings that had earned them their moniker. Once one was out of sight, it wasn’t likely to be seen again.

This time, though, the tracer spell on Roman’s compass was still active and locked on to the target.

There was no way he could return to his court empty-handed. He was the crown prince. He couldn’t be a failure. Not when there was so much at stake.

Firming his shoulders, he pushed onwards, his sword drawn.

The forest was eerily quiet around him, making the scuff of his shoes against the ground seem harsh enough to lead any enemy right to him. He shook off the thought; he was the one pursuing here. Let them come and face him.

Roman glanced up from his compass, and paused at the sight of a familiar-looking rotting tree trunk. He’d noticed one just like it about thirty paces back because it had a rare strain of fungus that Remus would have liked. What were the odds that the same rare fungus dotted the same side of a different identical rotting log?

Sure enough, another thirty paces and the log popped up again. Despite following the needle of his compass devotedly, he was being led in circles. A mind-altering ability, along with the manipulation of light and water they’d already seen? Roman shuddered, imagining what the monster could be planning with so much power at its disposal.

Luckily, Roman had more than enough faith in Logan’s spellcasting.

He closed his eyes, letting the clink of the needle guide his steps closer and closer to his target. His mind rebelled, senses muffling as though he was walking through thick honey instead of air, and then, with a pop, he was though.

When he opened his eyes, there was a small house in a clearing in front of him.

It was less ramshackle than he would have expected, the candlelight in the windows looking almost cozy compared to the dark forest surrounding it.

Assured that the kidnapping culprit lay just ahead, he tucked the compass into his pocket, strode forward, and kicked the door down.

Immediately, his eyes were drawn to the figure in the middle of the room, who had spun around at his arrival.

It looked startlingly human, wide eyed and messy haired, but the single set of dark wings taking up half the room were a dead giveaway to the seraph’s true nature. Those fragile core wings could be hidden, protected, even glamored away, but they never vanished entirely. They were the most reliable way to expose a seraph hidden in a human guise.

The seraph swore lowly, flaring the feathery appendages out to make itself look bigger.

Roman could just barely make out the small figures crowded against the back corner of the room, anxious eyes peering out at him. He felt something in him loosen in relief at the sight of the children still alive, if undoubtedly terrified. He’d half-expected the horrific alternative.

“I’ll tell you this once, you feathery fiend,” he said, pointing his sword at the monster directly. “Release the innocents you’ve kidnapped, and I won’t make your end painful.”

Its pupils narrowed to slits, and it spread its wings wider, hiding the children from view. When it spoke, there was a high, grating discordant note under the words. “Not. A. Chance.”

“Then face the consequences!” Roman shouted, and lunged.

The seraph was surprisingly adept at defending, flexing its hands and using long, sharp claws to block his blows and get in some of its own. Even in battle, it always remained between Roman and the children it held hostage, and the poor things were too frightened to respond to his calls for them to run.

Frustrating, but nothing he couldn’t overcome. In the end, Roman had been trained with the sword since he could stand, and no child-abducting angel impersonator could best him in battle.

When the inevitable opening came, he seized it, pushing forward until the seraph’s back was to the wall. Cornered, it hissed lowly at him before catching his next strike on its claws. It strained against his sword, its shaking arms the only thing keeping his blade from reaching its throat. Only a little further, and--

“Stop it!” A small voice shouted, on the edge of tears. “Don’t hurt him!”

Roman’s head jerked up, his attention caught by the distressed call.

The children were still huddled together, but one at the front of the group had stepped forward, fists clenched and gaze angry.

“Leave him alone!” she demanded, glaring directly at Roman.

Something fluttered at her back, and Roman’s eyes widened.

“You’re--,” he started, and then the seraph twisted in his grip, and he only barely caught the motion of its hand toward his head before glass shattered against his skull.

He staggered back as thick liquid spilled over his head, too cool to be blood.

Rather than pursue the opening, the seraph stepped back, wings finally settling back against its back. The lack of aggression was strange, after it had so fiercely responded to his challenge. Seraphim weren’t known for mercy.

Roman stepped forwards, his mouth shaping the first syllable of a question, and then abruptly understood as his body began to burn coldly, like he’d pressed ice directly to every inch of his skin. His sword dropped from numb fingers, clattering to the floor.

He’d been poisoned.

“New plan, we’re moving tonight,” the seraph began to speak, addressing the children, but Roman’s heartbeat was too loud in his ears to make out the rest of its words.

He fell to hands and knees, a line of burning pain along his spine. Some of the children sent him looks, nervous or pitying or angry, but most were busy scurrying around and gathering everything that wasn’t nailed down. He could see now, the small sets of wings on each and every one’s back, marking them as his kingdom’s enemies.

Why had he been told they were human? A leak in the court? Who had lied?

The seraph crouched in front of him, gaze unreadable. Its eyes were mismatched, Roman noticed nonsensically as another wave of pain shuddered through him.

“Well, that didn’t go to plan.” It brushed the remains of a glass vial from its hand, and Roman stared at the dark liquid left on the pieces.

“Wh--at did you do. To me,” he grit out between pants, struggling to keep himself upright.

“Congrats. You get to see how it feels to be us. To be hunted,” the seraph told him with an unfriendly smile. “Maybe it’ll change your perspective a little. Or maybe you’ll just bite it.”

It shrugged and flipped up its hood, rising to its feet, and kicked Roman’s sword up into its grip. Roman protested the theft on principle, but his voice came out strained and feeble like he’d never heard it before.

Before it followed the last kid out the door, it paused, glancing at him one last time.

“Once the bones are done, it gets easier,” it told him. “Good luck.”

Roman didn’t realize just what that meant until he heard the first resounding crack.

He finally lost his battle with gravity, collapsing to the ground with an agonized cry. That noise-- from inside him--?

There was another crack, and a series of pops like dislocating joints, and then his skin was melting and he was fading in and out of consciousness, roused and put under by the same overwhelming, all-consuming agony. Each time he woke, he could hear grinding and shifting inside of him, as though his insides were rebelling against their natural placement.

The seraph hadn’t been lying: the bones were the most painful part, and once the last one had clicked back into place, there was a palpable difference in pain levels. He still hurt, ached beyond measure, but it was no longer so much that he couldn’t even think past the pain. It almost felt like relief.

Roman focused on breathing, slow and deep, until he felt a little less like he was going to shake apart. He didn’t know of any poison that could do something like this. It was magic-- strong, cursed magic, and unlike Logan’s, there was no softness in it.

It took what felt like hours for him to gain the resolve to push himself up, and even longer to maintain the motion even as every nerve ending in his body protested. His vision was blurry, and his balance felt entirely off, even more so than that time Remus had dared him to jump off the roof and he’d gotten a concussion.

When he finally properly looked down at himself, he found feathers and bone lining his hands, transforming them into sharp claws and rigid armor. Familiar, but only because he’d seen them on his enemies time and time again.

The shock of adrenaline at the sight was helpful in pushing his aching muscles to the back of his mind as he rose to his knees and twisted to look at himself, staring at the three sets of bright wings draped down from his back.

Golden and white feathers lined them, lined his ears and throat and chest, framing the white exoskeleton pieces inset in his skin.

He sat back on his haunches, and took a few deep, whistling breaths before trying to speak, to say anything in his own voice. To prove he was still himself.

The sound that emerged from his throat was hollow and resonant, like woodwind instruments in harmony. It sent chills of anticipation down his spine, for he’d only ever heard the uncanny call before battle.

There was no denying it, however much he might want to. His body had been warped, transformed into the worst enemy of his kingdom, the beasts that plagued their people day and night. He was a seraph.

He had to get help.

Surely, there was someone among the court who knew about this curse, who could procure a solution, some kind of cure. He couldn’t be stuck as a monster, he was Dimiour’s crown prince!

He pushed himself up to his feet and found he was taller than before, limbs thin and spindly. All six of the wings lifted and curled around him automatically, creating the shell of bright feathery limbs that marked a seraph on defense. They were lighter than he would have expected, seeing as he knew the true form feathers were as sharp as any knife.

He stumbled through the door into the open forest air, taking a significant chunk out of the door frame as he went. His limbs were unsteady with inexperience, the gait distinctly different, almost hunched over to counterbalance the weight of his-- the wings.

In the distance, Roman heard voices calling his name.

He loped towards the sounds with barely a thought, attempting not to overthink every staggering movement. The underbrush scraped and rattled around him, announcing his presence well before he cleared the treeline and found himself faced with the weapons of his own squadron.

He tried to speak automatically, to show them that he wasn’t what they thought, but all that left him were those discordant, eerie notes, like overlapping birds of prey. He sounded like a nightmare come to life, and he noticed with abrupt horror that some of the newer trainees were faltering, clapping hands over their ears.

A blade flashed in the corner of his vision, and he raised an arm automatically. With a clang, the attacking knight’s glaive rebounded off his arm so sharply that the man wielding it nearly toppled. Another knight quickly moved between them, weapon raised defensively as their fellow recovered.

Roman stared at his arm, now covered in an extra layer, a hardened shell of bone. The armor had appeared-- had ossified into place, quicker than he could think.

“Hold!” A familiar voice called, and Roman turned to it like it was an oasis in a drought. Logan. Logan was here, he was the smartest person he knew, if anyone would have a solution, it would be him.

An odd crooning note bubbled up from his chest, but it cut off sharply at the sight of his right-hand man.

Logan stood sturdy with his scythe staff held up in one hand, and not a glint of recognition in his eyes.

“Move on, continue searching for our liege,” he directed, voice firm. “I will handle this opponent.”

Roman screeched, wings flaring in upset, trying over and over to manage anything recognizable as human speech. Anything at all that would let his closest friend identify him.

Logan didn’t even flinch at the sound, well-practiced in filtering out the skull-splitting calls of seraphim. He’d been in more battles than Roman ever had, out on the field while Roman was stuck learning courtly etiquette.

He’d earned himself the mantle of ‘Executioner’, and the thought had never sent a chill down Roman’s spine the way it did now.

But then, Roman had never been the one on this end of Logan’s casting, had he?

The others continued forward on their commanding officer’s orders, searching for someone who stood right before them, and abandoning him to a fight he couldn’t win.

Logan knew seraphim better than anyone else, how they functioned on every level.

Roman barely knew how to operate this new body, and more than that, he was terrified of it, of the damage he could unknowingly deal his best friend. It could hardly be called an equal match.

Still, it was almost a surprise to feel the impact of Logan’s first cast, a draining spell designed to weaken the enemy. He didn’t want to believe this situation was real, any of it, but the burning pins and needles racing through him were undeniable.

His wings wrapped around him more securely, he intended to turn, to flee the way no prince should. Perhaps it was this cowardice that resulted in the way he only made it two steps before exhaustion made him stumble.

Or maybe it was the way the most painful transformation of his life had turned his body inside-out what felt like mere moments ago.

Either way, he was in no position to dodge the next spell, or resist the darkness blooming in his vision as he tipped over that precarious line into unconsciousness.

His last glimpse of the world around him was Logan, weapon in hand, striding closer with his face set determinedly. Roman’s foolishness had never managed to outlast or outwit that expression before, and he had no doubt that this instance would be much the same.

At least, with any luck, his friend would never know what he’d done.

#sanders sides #ts roman #ts virgil #ts logan #BTHB #bad things happen bingo #writing #my writing #breathing cleaner air #bca #multichapter #EDIT: FORGOT THE BINGO SORRY

[5-falsehoods-phonated]

When Our Hands Next Meet

Series summary: Soulmates are given memories of their past lives when their hands touch. For Virgil and Logan, each memory is happier than the last.

This series was created for @analogicalweek and made in collaboration with the lovely @birdsongisland! Please go look at the wonderful drawing that pairs with this work and support them with reblogs so their work can be seen!

Credit to birdsongisland for beta reading this as well, it came out a lot better because of them!

Chapter 5: We’ll Meet in the Middle

Chapter Summary: Virgil didn’t know what he had been expecting when he asked for a tutor to help with his studies, but it definitely wasn’t who could kick flip a skateboard without even looking down and also happened to be his soulmate. 

Day 5 Prompt: Vocab Card/Skateboard

Warnings: none. If there are others please let me know!

WC: 1539

AO3 link

Taglist (ask to be added or removed): @ace-in-a-shopping-cart @janus-is-an-adorable-snek-boi @logans-library @im-an-anxious-wreck @edupunkn00b

Virgil huffed as he cupped his chin aggressively in his hand, staring down the road to wait for his tutor to show up. Not to get the wrong idea- he was very grateful to the person who had agreed to help him with his vocabulary; he just...wasn’t the best with people. He was socially awkward and very obviously had a vague emo style- wavy purple hair with white streaks fell messily over shadowed eyes and cheeks that would burn in five minutes outside despite his tanned complexion. His black nail  polish was chipping from the constant picking and he was never seen anywhere without his favorite purple hoodie hugging him like a portable blanket. But he was falling a bit behind in class because he couldn’t seem to remember the constant influx of new terminology thrown at him each week. Asking the professor about extra practice had landed him a phone number that he had agonized over for too many hours before finally biting the bullet and calling.

The voice on the other end alone was enough to make his stomach flip, light and lilting even when talking about something as boring as scheduling. Virgil knew it then and he was stewing over it now- he was absolutely done for. No one had that kind of voice without being kind and patient and while those were things he definitely needed if he was going to learn anything he was sure he’d get distracted anyway. Forming a squish from a voice- that had to be the worst joke played on him yet.

Looking up however nearly made him want to cry at the irony. That had to be him, the only person on campus at the moment standing tall on a skateboard while gripping a dark blue messenger bag. From what Virgil could see he had blue hair that was pulled to one side with the other shaved, immediately piquing Virgil’s interest with the unique look. He tried his hardest not to stare as he came closer and his jacket came into view; a leather one spiked at the shoulders and sporting pride flags at the chest. Virgil felt his own chest constrict as he stored that away for later, the pintrovert system coming in handy for what felt like the first time in his life.

Just as he was getting his crutches situated to stand up he noticed the other man riding straight for the sidewalk seemingly not paying attention to where he was going. Scrambling to his feet he lurched forward to yell out.

“Hey watch ou-” The warning died on his lips as his tutor executed a perfect lick flip onto the sidewalk, letting the momentum carry him a couple more feet before stopping and tucking the skateboard under his arms. Virgil was sure he looked like an absolute idiot as he approached him, trying his hardest not to gape while practically feeling his eyes sparkling while looking at the punk with wide eyes. 

“Hello, I’m Logan. And you’re Virgil right? The person I’m supposed to help with his medical terms?” He waited for Virgil to nod before continuing. “Excellent. Is the library fine?”

Realizing He’d been silent too long, he managed to squeak out a “Yeah,” as he reached down to swing his bag over his shoulder. Logan started towards the doors with him, shuffling things around in his bag to pull out notecards and stuff the skateboard into it. How it fit Virgil had no idea but taking in the aesthetic he honestly wouldn’t be surprised if it involved some sort of fae magic. 

They settled down at the table and Logan looked over at him, making his heart once again skip a beat as he took in the beautiful shade of brown. Shaking his head slightly he tried to focus on what Logan was currently talking about while organizing several colored pens in front of them.

“-that way you’ll be able to separate the terms better and your brain will be better equipped to compartmentalize the terms you need to remember in half the time. Does that make sense?”

It didn’t. It really, really didn’t. He had a soulmate somewhere that he hadn’t found yet and most likely wouldn’t for a long time to come, and yet here he was trying desperately to hide a blush because this person was just- he was so cool. His voice and eyes were pretty and he was obviously smart if he had been the first person his teacher had recommended to tutor him…

“Are you feeling alright? You look flushed.” Hearing this Virgil snapped back to reality and gave a thumbs up, ducking his head while trying to resist the urge to slam it into the wood. 

“Fine, yeah! Just you’re- it’s hot! Hot in the hoodie.” Praying he had saved that sentence quickly enough he dared to peak back at Logan through his bangs, who was just smiling slightly with an arm draped over the back of his chair.

“You can take that off then, if you want.” Logan pointed to the hoodie. “Since you’re hot.”

Virgil decided then, somehow managing to keep a straight face through his panic, that it was quite homophobic of the floor to not simply open and swallow him whole. Try as he might to calm himself he could still feel the remnants of the harsh flush in his cheeks as he saw Logan simply look at him with that smile, making him idly wonder if the sly bastard was really flirting with him or was actually just that oblivious.

Virgil sputtered as he wrapped the hoodie tighter around himself, shaking his head slightly. “Nah, I’m fine actually! You were saying about colors?”

“Just that color coding can help you study better. I’m here to give you tips as well so please pay attention.” Leaning forward again, Logan started explaining how to separate the different concepts and how to decide what was important and what wasn’t; honestly Virgil was genuinely surprised at how much he retained, forgetting his panic in favor of actually learning, for which he was very grateful. By the time an hour had passed he had a pretty good grasp on what he was meant to be learning and how to go about it. He stacked his much improved notecards together and shoved them in his pocket for later, shifting around in his seat to look at Logan properly.

“Thank you honestly, I feel a lot better about the class now.”

“It was no trouble, I’m grateful I was able to help. And if you’re in need of further assistance before next week, call me?” Logan smiled crookedly. “I use the library’s phone for tutor scheduling, this is for my actual phone..”

Virgil gaped at the slip of paper offered to him with a wink, fully cementing the idea that Logan had, in fact, been flirting with him and Virgil had been too infatuated with his style to actually notice. Purple nail polish caught his eye as his hand moved closer and he had the vague thought of that being his favorite color and how did he keep them from chipping? Before his thoughts could wonder further he was taking the paper and smiling, just aware enough of their fingers brushing as he remembered  being with this person, his soulmate, time and time again. Every time was better than the last as their souls grew accustomed to one another and grew over eternity, strengthening their bond with every word exchanged.

Virgil looked at his soulmate's dazed expression, the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen gracing his lips and eyes watering with emotion at having found him again. So many words stuck in his throat as he struggled with the perfect thing to say, something that would capture how happy he was to finally be together again and how excited he was to explore this lifetime together. Something that would make Logan understand just how much he meant to him.

“I think this is the coolest form you’ve ever taken.” He blurted, immediately covering his mouth and cursing himself twice over.

His heart sank as Logan barked out a laugh, snorting into his own hand and taking a minute to compose himself before laying a gentle hand on his cheek. 

“And I think this is the loveliest I’ve seen you.” 

He laughed softly as Virgil went completely red, fingers twitching with indecision over whether to flap his hand or slap the idiot beside him. Deciding on a combination of both he frantically beat a hand against his shoulder while sleeping his other over his mouth, mumbling profanities under his breath. Whipping around as his hand was caught he couldn’t help but grin at Logan’s own brilliant smile, even if his face felt like he had dipped it in a vat of boiling water.

“It’s getting late, I could walk you home?”

“Yeah,” Virgil managed. “I’d like that.”

Walking home and still slightly wishing the floor had opened up beneath him, he couldn’t help but feel lucky that he had found Logan so soon. They had an eternity to catch up on and if it had to start with fixing his bad study habits, he supposed he couldn’t complain.

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#false writes #sanders sides #sanders sides fic #analogical #analogicalweek #analogical week #virgil sanders #logan sanders #collab #collaboration

[98prilla]

Heat Stroke

I’ve seen a lot of “deceit is cold blooded so he gets cold easily” and I decided to flip the script. Too much heat is just as problematic for reptiles as too much cold. Read on A03 Here 

He was warm. Not unusual. He tended to burrow under blankets while he slept, making more of a nest out of them than anything. He rolled over and yawned, about to go back to sleep, but he frowned. It was bright. He could see the light through his eyelids, it was far too bright in his room, he never left the lights on when he slept.  

He realized with a jolt of panic that he wasn’t lying in bed, either. He didn’t feel the soothing weight of his blankets atop him, nor the softness of his mattress below. Instead, he felt hard ground.

He shot to his feet with a hiss, instantly awake and on guard, quickly taking in his surroundings with a sinking heart.

He was on a large, smooth rock. Before it was what looked like mulch woodchips. But beyond that….

He was in a cage. A terrarium, more accurately, he imagined Logan saying with an adjustment to his glasses. That brought a smile to his face for a moment, before it slipped away.

The glass sides of the tank extended upwards, so high and smooth there was no chance he was going to be able to climb them. The tank itself was a decent size, long enough it took him forty paces to reach from one side from the other, and twenty paces wide.

The most concerning part, besides having been somehow caged in the first place, was the light, and the heat it brought with it.

Looking up, he could make out what seemed to be a uv light, mimicking the sun and its rays, as well as its heat, along with a heat emitter bulb.  

He was already growing uncomfortably warm. He could feel sweat starting to slick his skin, and he desperatly realized there was no shelter from the “sun", not shade, no water, anywhere to be found.

This was bad. This was beyond bad. This was awful.

Without realizing it, he reached for his power, trying to sink out, panicking further when he realized he couldn’t. He could still feel Thomas, but something was keeping him well and truly trapped here.

He started pacing furiously, knowing it would only make this worse in the long run, but he supposed it didn’t matter.

None of the so called light sides would trap him in this manner, no matter how much they disliked or disagreed with him. They were too fundamentally caring to put him through this. No, if they had the nerve to want to kill him, it would be a blow from Romans sword, not… not this.

Which meant it was one of the others, one of his… no. They weren’t his people anymore, were they? Hed given that up when he appeared to Thomas, when he’d made himself known, inserted himself into the equation after denying the rest of them that very thing for years.

He'd be lying of he said everything was fine over on the dark side of the mind, if he denied it was all falling apart, he’d known sooner or later there would be a price on his head. Because he was the only obstacle between them and Thomas.  

And they were tired of waiting.

Suddenly furious, he glared at the glass. He took a breath, retreating as far as he could, before he took a running start, slamming his shoulder against it.

He fell back with a pained cry, gasping as he tried to push past it. He only fell apart more as he looked up, realizing his attempt hadn’t even left the faintest trace of a mark against the glass.

He growled, getting to his feet, winding up before charging again. And again. And again. And again. And-

He screamed as he felt something in his shoulder give, his arm hanging limply at his side, the smallest twitch of his fingers sending agony coursing through his entire left side.

He slumped to the ground, head pressing against the glass as he tried to contain his sobs. He couldn’t cry. He couldn’t afford to lose any more water content.

He was hot. He was so hot. It felt like he was slowly burning, from the inside out, any moisture on his skin had already evaporated, and he could feel himself starting to get lightheaded, the world spinning ever so slightly.

No. No! He wouldn’t give up, he wouldn’t die here, he wouldn’t give them the satisfaction of killing him.

Because unless he got out of here soon, he was going to die. His reptilian traits went deeper than the surface, after all. He’d always had trouble regulating his body temperature. With no shade, no water, no respite to the endless, aching brightness, he was going to overheat. He was going to be cooked alive. He was going to die.

It was slow, and cruel, because he knew exactly what was happening, he was lucid and aware as he staggered back from the glass, searching for something, anything, he could use, common sense giving way to terror.

His only hope was to buy time. Time for the lights to find him, as slim a chance as it was they would even notice, much less care.

Wincing and swearing with every step, he made his way to the edge of the rock, praying it didn’t go down too far, that it was just settled in the dirt, and started to dig.

It felt like hours. His forehead burned and his hand shook and he could feel his heart pounding too hard and too fast, like it was trying to claw its way out of his chest. He kept stopping to cough, so hard he thought his lungs would burst, so short on breath his body was convinced he must be choking, but the air scalded his insides, sent pain blazing down his throat.

Finally, he was down deep enough, down was the hard part. The mulch down here gave way to soft earth, still blessedly moist earth, and he widened his hole until it was just big enough for him to fit, if he curled up his tightest.

He’d made a burrow, digging out a small shelter underneath the basking rock, out of the light and the very worst of the heat, though it wasn’t enough.  

He shivered. He knew that was bad, shivering. It meant his temp was hotter than that of his surroundings. Down here was cooler, only slightly, but cooler, and that meant he was already as hot as the surface of the cage, he guessed 101 or so, and rising.  

He curled tighter, head against his knees as dark spots danced before his vision. He counted his breath, trying to slow his racing pulse, trying to breath in air, but his heart was so, so loud, it drowned out even his thoughts as he felt his muscles go limp.

What did it matter, anyway? No one was coming. No one cared. What did it matter, if he burned to death on his own heat, here?

It didn’t, he supposed. He let out a dry laugh, his tongue sticking to the bottom of his mouth, so dry he couldn’t even make spit anymore. It was like the sahara, in his mouth. He couldn’t speak now if he wanted too, which was somehow the most terrifying thought of all, because words were his weapon, his armor, his defense. Without them, he was nothing.

He was nothing.

He was…

 Virgil was in the midst of the worst panic attack he’d ever had in his life. His knees were curled to his chest and he was rocking back and forth, unable to focus on anything else besides the noise in his head, screaming at him that it wasn’t safe, wasn’t right, wasn’t good!

He couldn’t see anything through the black and white spots peppering his vision, his breath coming in too short, unsteady gasps, that tore at his lungs and throat, that burned his chest and screamed in his ears.  

He couldn’t hear anything over the blood rushing, pounding in his ears, his hands gripped his hair, he could vaguely feel his nails digging into his scalp, pricking fine points of pain, he could feel his teeth biting his lip so hard it started to bleed, but that pain wasn’t enough, it wasn’t grounding enough, he could taste the copper on his tongue, and it only made him gag, made his pulse rush faster. He knew someone was counting, someone was trying to reach out, but it was too hot, too hot, too hot!  

“He can’t hear me.” Logan stated, withdrawing his hand at Virgil’s strangled noise at his touch, shaking his head hard and fast. Logan had stopped his counting. “He’s too far in his panic spiral.”  

“So what do we do? Just leave him?” Patton asked, fear pitching his voice higher than usual. None of them had ever seen Virgil quite this bad, he looked to be on the edge of passing out.

“Where is he?” Roman yelped, jumping as Remus launched himself over the couch and into the common area.  

“What the lemony snicket!? What are you doing here?” He asked, but Remus’s gaze had locked on Virgil. He walked purposefully towards him, before being blocked by Logan.  

“Move.” Remus growled, glaring up at Logan, who’s arms were folded, letting his fierceness drop when he found no suspicion or hate in his eyes, only concern.  

“I don’t know if given your turbulent history with Virgil, you should be interacting with him in his current state.” Remus shook his head, and Logan was surprised to find tears forming in his eyes.  

“I can, I can, I need to, you don’t understand, it’s not him, it’s not-” Remus’s fists clenched and unclenched as he let out a breath from between his teeth, struggling to keep his words in order, to keep everything from spilling out, he was shaking, he couldn’t stop shaking.  

“Please! Pleasepleasepleaseplease...” Logan heard Patton’s sharp inhale of breath as Remus broke into tears. He looked over Remus’s shoulder, seeing Roman speechless, gaping like a fish. Patton looked shocked, and he nodded once, towards Virgil. Logan frowned, but nodded back, looking down at Remus.  

“ok. Just... just be careful with him.” Logan said softly, squeezing his shoulder as he stepped aside. Remus nodded, taking a few steps forwards, before kneeling in front of Virgil, who still rocked, breath catching and heaving, eyes covered by his bangs.

“Vee.” He said the old nickname, and instantly Virgil froze, head jerking up, eyes blown wide with panic as they met Remus’s.  

“R...r...ree...” Remus shook his head, moving closer.  

“It’s ok, stormy, don’t try and talk. It’s him, isn’t it? It’s Dee?” Virgil nodded so fast his head spun, and he closed his eyes against the wash of dizziness.  

“Feel it. Bad, is bad, too hot, too hot!” Virgil cried, hands digging deeper into his scalp.  

“None of that, now. Squeeze my hands ok? As hard as you need. You’re not gonna hurt me.” Remus said softly, surprised as Virgil instantly let go of his hair and clutched Remus’s hands as if they were his only lifeline, so hard Remus could hear bones popping.  

“Good. That’s good, Vee. I know it’s hard, but I need you to focus. I can feel it too, he’s in trouble, bad trouble, right?” Virgil nodded again, and Remus could feel him calming somewhat.  

“I need you to tell me what you can feel. What he can feel. We need to find him.” He could feel Virgil trembling, shaking as he started coming back to himself, rocking a bit faster on his heels. “I know its hard, I know it doesn’t feel good, I know it hurts, but you’re the only way we have to find him. I need you to try. I’m right here, I’ll be right here. Okay?” Remus reassured. Virgil bit his lip, wincing at the pain.  

“O... oh... okay. Cl-closer? Pl-pl-please?” Virgil asked, breathless and shaky. Remus scooted closer, surprised as Virgil climbed onto his lap, letting out a trembling breath. Hesitantly, Remus let out his tentacles, wrapping them around Virgil to keep him steady on his lap, so he didn’t have to let go of his hands.  

“Too much?” He asked, feeling Virgil shaking in his grasp.  

“N-no.” He mumbled. “G-g-good.”  

“Okay. Are you ready?” Virgil nodded. He took as deep a breath as he could, before squeezing Remus’s hands tighter, closing his eyes.  

It was hot, it was far too hot. His throat was dry, scorching air in and out. It was dim, but not dark, he could feel something soft and dry on either side of him, dirt? Hopeless, he was hopeless, he was sure no one was coming, no one would find him, the others had done their job well, caging him in this glass prison like the snake he was, light and heat and rock and it was hot, hot, hot!  

Dying, he was dying, he could feel it. His heart pounded too hard and too fast, his breath was shallow and quick, his vision was failing, his senses shutting down, he was burning, every inch was burning, and he was giving up, it was too much, his eyes slipped closed and-  

“No! Nonono n-n-n-no, D-d-dee, Dee, d-d-d"  

“Virgil. Virgil, where? I need to know, where?” Virgil was hyperventilating, on the edge of breaking down again, but he knew Remus was right, they needed to know where. He squeezed Remus’s hands harder, it hurt, it hurt, he couldn’t hold it much longer, but he needed to know, which one, which one, where...  

“Wrath!” He gasped out, slumping against Remus, exhaustion cresting over him. “it was wrath.” He whispered, feeling the tentacles retract, only Remus’s arms left holding him, his hands having let go at some point, but he was too worn out to care, to open his eyes. He felt Remus press a soft kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose. It reminded him of when Remus used to put him to bed at night.  

He would always tell some rambling, nonsense story, it didn’t make any sense, and it didn’t have to, it kept his brain occupied, trying to decipher the words, letting his worries fade and allowing him to get some sleep. Before he drifted off, Remus would always tuck him in tight, whisper words of love, kiss his forehead, his nose, his cheek, before turning on his nightlight and gently shutting the door.  

“Thank you. You did so good, my little storm cloud, my dark night. You are so, so, good, love. I’m so proud.” Remus murmured in his ear.  

“Dee... y-you need to g-get Dee.” He felt a gentle hand brush his bangs back from his face, caress his face softly, and he shuddered, leaning into the contact.  

“We will, Vee. I’ve gotta let you go, okay? We’re gonna go get him, right now.” Virgil clung to him tighter, shaking his head. For the first time, Remus looked up at the others.  

Logan was looking at the two of them critically, no doubt trying to decipher what was going on, what had just happened, and Remus thanked his lucky stars that he had let Remus through, none of the others would have known what was happening, much less how to calm Virgil from an attack like this one. They’d never had to.  

Roman was looking at him with wide eyed surprise and suspicion, a frown on his face, but Remus didn’t care what Roman thought at the moment, he had more important things to worry about.  

“patton. I’m leaving you with Patton, ok? He’ll take care of you, you know he will. And... and I’ll be right back, ok? I’ll be right back with Dee.” Remus promised, shifting Virgil in his arms as he stood, passing him to a surprised looking Patton.  

“He needs to sleep. Lots of sleep. And he usually gets cold, after this. And... and he might have nightmares. He will, until I get to Dee, but even after that, so be careful if he wakes up in the next hour or so, he won’t be here, fully.” Remus listed off, turning away with fire in his eyes.  

“Remus. I would like to come with you.” He stilled at Logan’s words, turning to face the logical side, eyes narrowed in suspicion.  

“Why?” Logan adjusted his glasses.  

“because from what I heard just now, it seems Deceit is in some sort of mortal peril, and I have the most medical knowledge of anyone here. Whatever the situation, I will be able to assist.” Remus didn’t have time to argue, and truthfully, he didn’t want to.  

“I’m coming too.” That was more surprising. Roman and him were on ok terms, but still, Roman kept his distance, thought Remus was weird and gross. Roman softened at his brother’s gaze. “I know we don’t always get along, but I don’t hate Deceit. We need him, as much as we need you, as much as we need any of us. And if it is wrath, you might need the extra sword.” Remus nodded curtly, running a hand through his hair.  

“Ok. I can take us directly there, take my hands.” Remus ordered, smiling just a bit as he felt two hands instantly hold onto his. He let out a breath, steeling himself. “this might be a bumpy ride.” Then he closed his eyes and the three sank out.

Logan and Roman staggered as their feet touched solid ground. It had felt like they were falling for eternity, swirling around and around until they hadn’t known up from down, until their minds spun and they feared they’d never make it out.  

Then it was suddenly over.  

“Um... you alright? I did say it was a bumpy ride.” Remus said sheepishly as Logan straightened his glasses, and Roman stood up from where he’d been hunched over, trying not to hurl.  

“Fine. I’m fine. Let’s just... get a move on.” Roman replied, glancing around. They were in a hall with doors, much like their hallway on the light side. Remus stalked over to one painted brilliant, crimson red, flame decals across the bottom. With a battle cry, he kicked the door in, mace in hand as he prepared to swing. He froze instead, mace dissepating in the air as he ran to the glass.

“Dee! Snake face, can you hear me?” He shouted, pounding against the glass. No response. He swore, mace appearing back in his hands. He wound up, and swung forcefully. It bounced off, but left a hairline crack. He screamed, and hit it again, fractures spiraling up the glass. One more swing, and an explosion of glass shattered inwards, sending him stumbling forwards and onto his hands and knees. He barely noticed the glass cutting into his knees, scratching his hands and cutting into his skin. It didn’t matter.  

Dim, not dark. That’s what Virgil had said, so he wasn’t above ground, somewhere, there was no shade to be seen. He noticed the heat next, it was hot, easily over a hundred, probably more, and he cursed again.  Too hot, burns, Vee was right yet again.  

He scanned the mostly empty area, noticing a strange pile near the large rock in this... god, he hated to call it an enclosure, but that’s what it was. He sprinted towards it, feeling himself sweat. He ran hot, if he was already sweating from this, and Dee had been here long-

The pile wasn’t Dee. It was dirt. But next to the pile was a shallow hole. He dropped into it, looking around, dim, not dark. And there he was. He sucked in a breath, cursing in a nonstop rant as he reached in, gently extracating Deceit from his clumsily made burrow.  

He was burning hot. He was so hot his skin was red and burned, his scales were dry and flaking. His breath was far, far too fast and shallow, rapid breaths against his too quick heartbeat. His head lolled against Remus’s chest, completely limp in his arms, and one arm hung at an unnatural angle. He was too hot, too dry, his fever was up to 110.  

“The fuck are you doing in my room?” His voice was hot and scorching, raspy and burning. Remus turned, glaring just as hard as Wrath was, feeling his tentacles sprout from his back, his mouth twisting into a snarl. Surprise flashed across his face as Roman and Logan stepped between him and Wrath, Roman’s sword drawn, and Logan’s hands glowing a deep green.

“Oh come on, you brought the lovey dovey squad with you? How pathetic.”  

“Not pathetic. Strategic.” Logan replied. Wrath rolled his eyes.

“Please. How’d you even know he was here? I made sure he couldn’t call for help.” Wrath stated, leaning casually against the wall, making Remus growl deep in his throat. “Was it that little tattle tale wannabe light side? I’ll have to pay him a visit, teach him a lesson.” Remus moved to step forwards, but Roman did before he could, eyes aflame.  

“You won’t be going anywhere near him. You won’t be going anywhere near any of them, ever again.” Roman growled, flames erupting from his sword, and with a slash, they sprung from the ground, surrounding wrath in head tall, burning blue flames. For the first time, fear sparked in Wrath’s eyes as he pressed back against the wall.  

“you wouldn’t.” Wrath hissed, and Roman’s eyes narrowed as he leaned through the flames, which didn’t singe a hair on his body, pressing his blade to Wrath's throat, just hard enough to draw a bead of blood.  

“I fucking would. And if i ever see your face again, if you ever threaten my family again, if you ever hurt any of them again, I will. I’d lay low for a while, if I were you.” Roman hissed, twisted smile on his lips as flames danced in his eyes. ”Otherwise, who knows what unfortunate accident might befall you?” With that he turned on his heel, walking back to Remus, Logan already examining the unconcsious Deceit with a frown on his face.  

“He’s gotten heatstroke. A very acute, severe case, as well. The best thing we can do is get him back to the commons and work on cooling him off, slowly, so as to not shock his system. If we do this carefully, he should be alright. I can tend to that arm there, as well.” Logan reassured lowly. Remus nodded, glaring up at Wrath once more, hoping he conveyed all his hatred and ire in that one look, succeeding, if the shudder Wrath gave was any indication. Then Logan and Roman each took hold of one of his arms, and they sunk out.

 Hot, hot, burning. His scales were flaking, falling off, his skin was peeling, turning red, his breath was short, his heart was failing, he was dying, Dee was dying, he couldn’t hold on any longer, they were too late, and he was gone-

He shot awake with a wild sob, hands covering his face as he shook, unable to shake the vision of Dee from his mind, unable to tell if it was true or not,  but he could still feel the residual pain, the fire that crawled through his veins, that burnt him up from the inside out, that devoured his breath and his lungs.  

He jerked as he felt a hand on his shoulder, meeting Patton’s eyes.  

“Kiddo? You okay?” Virgil shook his head, arms wrapping around himself. It was still too hot, too hot, but something else, something good. Safe, he was safe, they had him!

He scrambled to his feet just as the others sunk back in, everyone staggering except Remus, who had a determined look on his face as he set Deceit down on the couch. Instantly, Virgil was on the couch, Deceit’s head in his lap, stroking his hands through the side’s hair, tears falling silently down his face.  

“Roman, get me a box fan, something that can blow a steady stream of air on him, and the aloe from the bathroom. Patton, a bowl of cool water and a washcloth, as well as the ice packs. I’ll get my medical supplies. Remus, stay with the both of them.” Logan ordered, everyone splitting up on their respective quests.  

“Vee? How you doing?” Remus asked softly, sitting on the arm of the couch behind Virgil, wrapping his arms around Virgil’s middle.  

“good. Bad. I don’t... it’s all... still see it.” Remus nodded, tucking his chin against Virgil’s shoulder.  

“It’s ok, stormcloud. Can you breathe with me? Just try to match me, okay?” He breathed in deep, mentally counting, emphasizing each step, feeling Virgil begining to copy his rhytm. By the time the others returned, he’d slid off the arm and into Virgil’s seat, Virgil curled on his lap, arms wrapped around his neck, face pressed against his chest in sleep, Dee’s head in his lap.  

“We need to remove his layers, it’s only hindering him at this point. Roman?” Logan asked. Roman nodded, and with a snap, Deceit was in a soft tee shirt and pajama shorts. It was strange, seeing him so exposed, and a bit unnerving. It frightened him, seeing the usually suave and smooth side so unguarded and unresponsive, Roman realized, and looking at the others, he could tell they felt the same.

Quietly, Roman plugged the fan in, turning it on low and setting it on the coffee table, blowing air at Deceit’s torso. Logan took the ice packs, and positioned them under Deceit’s armpits, under his knees, and behind his neck, setting the arm in a sling, frowning as Deceit didn’t react at all to what would have been a very painful jolt. Patton carefully, gently, rubbed in the lotion and then the aloe onto his skin, wincing at the burns and dryness, at the flaking scales, at the heat still emenating from his body. Remus took the rag and started dabbing at Dee’s forehead, trying to cool his temp.

“Now what?” Patton asked, slumping back on the opposite end of the couch, looking to Logan for answers.

“We can do nothing but wait. Now that he is out of there, and cooling down, his pulse and breathing should start to return to a steady and normal level. He will be exhausted, his skin will hurt like a severe sunburn and take some time to heal, but he should be stable in only a few hours, awake a few after that.” Logan said, falling into his armchair. Roman was the only one who couldn’t seem to settle, pacing the floor.  

“Remus, what...what was happening? With Virgil?” Patton asked, concern in his eyes as he realized Virgil was still shaking, face scrunched tight in his sleep.

“He sees things. When... when one of us is in trouble, he can sense it. Usually it’s not much, it’s small enough it doesn’t affect him at all. Like when Roman’s stressed over a video deadline, or Logan can’t solve an equation, or you can’t find the recipe you’re looking for. He feels it, the... stress, the anxiety, he can tell where it’s coming from and who. This... this was so strong, I could feel it. I knew he must if I could. When it’s that strong, he can’t separate what’s happening to the person he’s feeling and what’s happening to him. It’s like he’s there. That’s how I knew he could find Dee. He could see where he was, feel it, though it’s hard to focus enough to see details through someone else’s perspective. Between pushing himself to see, and the panic attack, he’s completely wiped out.” Remus answered, rubbing Virgil’s arm as the side started to whimper in his sleep.  

“There’s only been a handful of times it affected him this badly. The first time was me. I got into a fight in the imagination I couldn’t win. I managed to get away, but I didn’t have the strength left to heal myself or shift the enviroment. I was bleeding out on the forest floor. Scared the hell out of Dee, but he caught on pretty quick that Virgil wasn’t just panicking, something was up. Enough details spilled out, Deceit realized what was going on, managed to find me based off his descriptions. I’d be dead three times over it weren’t for him.”  

“And the other times?” Logan asked. Remus scowled, face darkening.  

“What, can’t deduce that? Most of the others have never been fond of Dee. He’s the only thing keeping them away from Thomas, the only obstacle in their way to running rampant. I at least have the sense to see he’s right! I hate it, but he’s right to keep me from Thomas, to keep me away, to keep my presence to a minimum. I hate... I hate how I am, but that’s not his fault, has never been, and he...” Remus stopped, too choked up for a moment to continue, his gaze resting on Deceit’s too pale face. “The other three have been traps. Set for Deceit. To kill him. So the others can run free.” Remus laughed hollowly, shaking his head. “How funny, right? He plays the villain, puts on the façade, so you all don’t have to face the real monsters in Thomas’s mind. He’s spent every second of his existence protecting you all, keeping them away, almost dying for you and your precious standards of purity and light, and you couldn’t give less of a damn if you tried.” Remus closed his eyes against the grief and sadness and futility overwhelming him.  

“I... I didn’t know... I’m sorry, Remus.” Remus shook his head, laughing bitterly at his brother’s words.  

“You didn’t care to know. There’s a difference. Whatever. It doesn’t matter, it’s not the point.”  

“Remus. It does matter. I mean it, I didn’t think, and I’m sorry. How... how long has it been like that?” Remus shrugged.  

“It wasn’t so bad. We were never as close as you guys. But it only got worse after Dee revealed himself. It made them mad, why should he be able to show himself, but keep them all hidden? Who was he to hold that power? It had always been him, me and Virgil, against them. We both understood Dee, agreed with him. Virgil is fight or flight, anxiety, after all, he knew it was a bad idea. And I... well. Look at me. I know I’m not good. I know I’m just... just an illness. Then... then Vee left. We both helped push him out the door, pushed him to show up and make himself known, we knew what would happen, we knew he would leave, but we knew it was for the best. But it got harder, after that. They got stronger, and madder, and Virgil still stepped in, if we asked, but we didn’t want to drag him back into it, so we didn’t as much as possible and it was only a matter of time until something like this happened and I-” He caught his breath, gently stroking Deceit’s scaled cheek, cracking open his tear streaked eyes as he felt Deceit lean into his touch, though he still showed no signs of awakening. “I tried. I just... I can’t be everywhere at once. And he doesn’t tell me everything. He goes off on his own sometimes, and Wrath must have nabbed him then. Probably ambushed him, else Dee would have bit his head off.” Remus said fondly, dabbing the cloth over Dee’s scales, trying to get some moisture on them.  

With his normal outfit gone, it was easy to see why Dee wore so many layers. Scales in varying colors, from the gold on his face, to deep silvery blue along his arms and pale lilac on his hands traced patches and lines across his body. His nails were sharp, reminiscint of talons, and he was thin, but his muscles were toned, no doubt allowing him more strength than he seemed capable of, and his whip fast speed. Along with the scales, they could see lines of old scars on his skin, no doubt a testament to all the scrapes he’d gotten into with the others.  

“We’re moving you. If... that is, if you want. I’ll move your rooms up here right now. Then they can’t get to Deceit, and he can keep them contained using his power from a distance. If he has to go down there to handle them, at least he has a safe place to come back to up here.” Patton’s voice was gentle but firm, and Remus was left speechless at the offer. He opened and closed his mouth several times, taken aback.  

“yes. Please.” He finally managed to spit out, spurred on by the concern on Patton’s face. Patton nodded with a small smile, closing his eyes. He felt out their rooms in the mindscape, in the downstairs, and pulled, with all his might, feeling them settle in the hallway, opposite each other, next to Virgil and Roman’s rooms, respectivly. He staggered as he finished, Roman stopping in his pacing to catch him, keep him upright.  

“Okay, padre?” He asked, Patton clutching at his shirt.  

“Yeah. I just forgot how much energy that takes. The last time I did it was Virgil, I don’t think I’ve ever moved so much at once. I maybe got a little ahead of myself, there.” Patton said, trying to step away from Roman. His legs buckled from under him, and Roman swept him up off his feet, leaving Patton giggling and smiling sheepishly at the bridal hold, Roman equally as flushed at his own instincts.  

“Er, sorry. I’ll settle you down on the other recliner, yeah?” Roman asked, chuckling as Patton yawned, shaking his head.  

“Nah. You’re cozy...”  Patton murmured, tucking his head against Roman’s chest, arms wrapping around his middle in a hug as his eyes drifted shut. Roman rolled his eyes fondly, kissing the top of Patton’s head, smiling as Patton let out a soft happy noise, nuzzling closer as he sat down in the chair and tucked a blanket around Patton.  

“Guess it’s naptime. Wake me up if anything happens, Lo.” Roman said softly, settling in and closing his eyes, starting to snore softly almost immediately.  

Logan’s full attention turned to Remus. Despite Deceit in his lap, and Virgil koala hugging him, he was tense, eyes roving over Deceit’s face as he dabbed at him with the cloth, frowning at every tic of his eyelids, every twitch of his fingers. Occasionally he paused to smooth back Virgil’s hair, murmur softly in his ear when he made a distressed sound or squeezed him a little tighter, no doubt having a nightmare, as Remus had said to expect.

His mind turned over and over all the things Remus had said. He should have realized sooner that the others would not be friendly towards Deceit, and it was not a large jump to violence, for those sides, anyways. But that’s not what his mind was stuck on.  

“Remus. You... do you believe, what you said, about yourself?” He asked, watching Remus flinch imperceptibly, sink back into his seat, brows furrowed as he looked at the floor.  

“yes. It's... it’s true! I’m just the screw up, the bad part of creativity, the part Thomas didn’t want, and all I do is drive him up the wall and none of my ideas are good, and Deceit was right, to keep me locked away. Cause look what happened when he let me out. It’s like you said. It’s better... it’s better to just ignore me until I go away.” Logan softened as Remus’s voice cracked, the creative side still refusing to look anywhere near him.  

“Oh, Remus. That’s not what I meant at all. And you’re forgetting what else I said. That you would help Thomas if he chose to pursue more adult themes, which we all know he is going to. Perhaps not dolphin sex or whale genetelia,” That got a snort of laughter out of Remus, and Logan adjusted his glasses, pleased, “but the topic of depression, which has already been lightly touched on, the topic of suicide, of self harm. And that is just as you pertain to Thomas. Not as you pertain to us.” Remus looked up at him, hope and puzzlement warring on his face.

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we care about you, as Remus, not just as creativity. Patton doesn’t shift the mindscape lightly, and surely you’ve noticed Roman trying harder to spend time with you, to get to know you again. I had been trying to be welcoming as well, though emotions are... hard for me to express in the way I would like. You are not an illness. You are not a disease. You are useful, you are needed, you are loved.” Logan said the last sentence with a rush, already embarased by what he’d said, but the broken, shattered look on Remus’s face stopped him. He took a breath, and crossed the few steps to where Remus sat, crouching so he was at eye level with him, holding his gaze steadily.  

“Remus, you are needed. You are loved. You are wanted.” He repeated, slowly, wishing he could chase away the doubt and fear on Remus’s face.  

“Truth.” Came a quiet, rasping whisper, making the both of them jump. Deceit’s eyes were open a slit, though he didn’t seem to have the strength to move, to even turn his head.  

He felt awful. His limbs were like noodles, his head lolled against Remus’s knee, and he tried, but he couldn’t even shift his neck to get a better look at Remus, who was hovering over him like a mother hen. His vision was blurry, forms too bright and fuzzy at the edges, he couldn’t even open them all the way. He only knew it was Remus because of the streak of grey that stood out against the dark, and his voice. He tried to speak again, to reassure Remus, but his words caught in his throat, and he ended up coughing, his mouth desperetly searching for moisture, but it was dry, dryer than it had ever been, his tongue swollen and thick against the roof of his mouth. By the time the fit had passed, he was wheezing for air, air that burned his too dry throat and nearly sent him into another round.  

But then someone was helping him to sit, and there was a glass of water to his lips, and he tried to drink slow, but it felt so good. It was like a cooling breeze in the midst of a muggy summer day, like rain over a forest fire, the sweetest, purest, relief he’d ever felt in his life, and he let out a whine as the glass was taken away.  

“Easy, Deceit. Too much at once will make you sick. You can have more in a few minutes.” Logan’s voice reassured. He cracked his eyes open further, squinting against the brightness that seemed to be everywhere. “How are you feeling?”  

“tired. Cool. It's... h-how did you...” He swallowed, trying to get the lump in his throat down as it all came rushing back. The heat, the fear, the surety that this was it, this the end, no one was coming, he could still feel the earth under his nails, the heat all around, the fire eating away at him-

“Dee! Deedeedeedeedee-” Then there was a bundle of warmth throwing itself at him, sending him sprawling back across the couch, and it took him a moment to recognize the splash of purple against the darkness of his jacket. Without pause, he wrapped his arm around Virgil, pulling him close, realizing the other was bound in a sling against his chest, aching dully. Virgil didn’t seem to care, he wrapped his arms around Dee’s neck, burying his head in the crook of his neck, legs wrapping around him in a koala hug, pressed so tight against him Deceit could feel every tremble and breath and heartbeat against his skin, soothing something inside him, warming him in a good way from the inside out.

“Shadow, little shadow, you found me. You did it, you found me, dearest, it’s going to be ok now.” He murmured, feeling Virgil’s tears against his shirt. “so brave, you’re so very brave, dearheart.”  

“W-w-wrath had you, h-h-h-ot, saw it, can’t, c-c-can't st-st-stop-” Deceit shushed him, pulling back, pressing a kiss to Virgil’s forehead, his cheeks, finally resting his forehead against Virgil’s, all he could see those dark, violet eyes.

“I know. But I’m here, dearest, because of you, I'm here. I’ll be right here. Go back to sleep, lovely.” Deceit murmured, watching as Virgil struggled to keep his eyes open. “I’ll be right here.” He kissed Virgil’s eyelids as they fluttered shut, and Virgil let out a soft sigh against him, curling into his chest and somehow holding him tighter. Deceit nestled his head atop Virgil’s, and let his own eyes slip closed once more.

“Dee?” Remus, voice worried. He couldn’t find the strength to peel his eyes back open, not with Virgil hugging him tight, filling him with warmth.  

“M’fine. Tired. Lil dizzy, yet, but m’fine.” He mumbled, slipping into darkness once more.

With those two curled up together on the couch, there was room for Logan to slip into a seat beside Remus, hesitantly, carefully, pulling him into a tentative hug. Remus froze at his touch, and he worried he’d overstepped, then Remus let out a soft wail, hugging him back, letting his stress and worry and fear drain out of him in his shaky, quiet sobs.  

“You meant it. You meant it.” Remus said breathlessly, wiping away tears and snot on his sleeve. Logan frowned smally.  

“I did. I think it is safe to say Deceit will be alright. He has clearly recovered from the heat, if not the exhaustion. Meaning you should get some sleep, as well.” Remus looked like he wanted to protest for a moment, before slumping into Logan’s arms with a sigh.  

“Alright. Only for you, Lolo.” He closed his eyes and started snoring just as fast as Roman had. Logan chuckled, taking off his glasses and setting them on the coffee table, before settling back in his seat. Some sleep would be good for him.

Virgil woke first, slowly, sleep trying to tug him back into its warm embrace. He was still tired, no, exhausted. It reached to his bones, the weight trying to tug him back down, and blearily he thought he hadn’t felt like this since-

His eyes shot open, breath speeding for a moment as he saw only black, before he felt the warm exhale of breath against his hair, and realized he was being held tight, entwined with another side. Shifting, he felt everything inside him loosen as he saw that half-scaled face, as he felt Dee’s heart beating, his breath coming in and out, his skin still looked red and flaky, but far less angry than the day before. As he watched, Deceit let out a soft groan, his own eyes slowly flicking open, resting on Virgil’s, a soft smile quirking his lips.  

“Hi.” Was the tired word that escaped his lips, but it was enough, because Virgil was hugging him again, so tight he could barely breath for a moment, before his hold loosened and he pulled back, a fierce look on his face.  

“Don’t you ever do that to me again, Dee. Don’t... don’t scare me like that.” He muttered furiously. Deceit sighed, shifting to sit up, Virgil following and settling beside him on the couch. Deceit ran a hand through his hair, looking around the room, surprised to see Logan curled up with Remus in his arms, less surprised that Roman and Patton were in the same position on the recliner.  

“Oh yes, because I very much wanted to get trapped in a container like I was some kind of pet and then boiled to death from the inside out. That was exactly my intent.” He replied, unable to help the sarcasm that slipped into his voice. He smiled as Virgil let out a breathy laugh, resting his head on Dee’s shoulder.  

“Okay, fair. You’re just lucky Remus was around.” Deceit frowned, turning to look at Virgil.  

“How are you doing, dearest?” Virgil let out a breath, fidgeting with his hoodie sleeves.  

“Alright. Still... worn down. Remus helped. God knows I wasn’t making sense, but he calmed me enough I could focus, I could see... I was scared...” Virgil said softly, so softly, and Deceit reached out, tucking Virgil’s bangs back, stroking his cheek.  

“I know. But you did such a good job, shadow, little shadow.” Virgil rolled his eyes, but shoved his head against Deceit’s hand much like a cat demanding pets. He laughed, and started massaging Virgil’s scalp, the action soothing both him and Virgil, it had been so long since he’d had this much contact with anyone, he realized.  

“Mhph. Virg? You up?” Roman grumbled, stretching and yawning hugely as he blinked open his eyes. Deceit froze, flinching back, expecting Roman to shriek or summon his sword, and he was too tired to deal with his theatrics and put up his usual façade. Instead, Roman’s eyes widened, and he gently shook Patton.  

“Pat! He’s awake!” Instantly, Patton was on his feet, crouching before Deceit.  

“Oh, goodness, I’m so glad you’re up. Logan said you’d be fine and just needed to sleep, but you had me scared, kiddo. Um, we have some lotion and aloe here, for you, but I don’t know if you use something else on your scales that might help, they’re pretty bad, too. Do you want something to eat? Oh, and I should get you something to drink right away, you’re still really dehydrated, water? Or would juice be better, it has more sugar and stuff?” Patton rambled.  

‘Patton, you’re crowding him. Juice would be preferable, and something simple, toast and scrambled eggs, if that’s acceptable?” Logan asked, looking to Deceit, who nodded.  

“Yeah. Sounds... fine. I have some oil, in my room, Remus knows where.” He said softly, realizing Remus was awake and staring at him as if he hadn’t seen him in years. Abruptly, Deceit realized his normal outfit was gone, leaving his legs and arms exposed, and he shivered.  

“We changed you out of your clothes yesterday, to aid in your cool down. Your temperature is sufficiently lowered now, if you wish to change back. We also have moved your and Remus’s rooms up here, with Remus’s permission.”  

“You don’t have to do that.” He answered softly. Logan cocked his head.  

“But we have. What I said to Remus applies to you as well, Deceit. We should have worked to make that clearer, sooner. Please, let us help.” Deceit blinked slowly, before nodding, settling back on the couch.  

“Ok.” He snapped his fingers, and his outfit changed into soft fleece pajamas, patterned with dark scales. It felt good against his sensitive skin. Remus popped back up, a bottle in his hand, which he passed to Deceit.

“Let me help. I can reach the ones on your back.” Virgil said, gently taking the oil from him, waiting for a reply. Shakily, Deceit nodded, feeling his aching muscles start to relax as Virgil carefully rubbed his back. He realized Remus still hadn’t said anything, an unusual occurance, and met his gaze, tilting his head in a silent question.  

Remus let out a breathy laugh, sitting on the couch cross legged before Deceit, taking both of Dee’s hands in his, simply staring at his face as if he couldn’t get enough of it, searching it for something, though Dee couldn’t pinpoint what.  

“Ree?” He asked, gently, and Remus squeezed his hands.  

“What if I hadn’t noticed you were missing? What if they distracted me enough I didn’t come after you? What if I didn’t feel your panic? What if Virgil hadn’t been able to see? What if no one realized what was happening until it was too late? What if we found you and you’d shriveled up like a prune, crumbling to dust before our eyes? What if we watched your heart slow and stop and your breathing stutter out and your eyes close and they never, never opened up again? What if-” Deceit gently extricated one of his hands from Remus’s, and guided it to his chest, over his heart. “I can’t stop, can’t stop, it’s so loud...” He muttered, Dee rubbing circles against his knuckles.  

“I know, love. But you can feel that, right? Tell me what that is.” He asked softly, earnestly.  

“You’re heart.” Came the mumbled response.  

“Yes. And what is it doing?” Remus’s eyes flicked to his for just a moment, before looking away again, though he could see the thoughts starting to slow, his eyes starting to clear.  

“Beating.”  

“Good. Now, what about this?” He asked, moving Remus’s hand so it was over his diaphram. “What is that?” He could see the small smile starting to grow on Remus’s face.  

“You breathing.” He murmured. Deceit smiled.  

“Indeed. Do you know why, my heart is still beating, I am still breathing?” Remus didn’t respond, but he was looking at Deceit now, meeting his affectionate gaze. “Because you did notice I was gone, you did feel my panic, you did find Virgil, you did focus him enough he could see, you did find me in time, you did get me help and you did make sure I was alright. That’s what matters. Can you remember that for me, Ree? Can you focus on that?” Remus’s smile was bright as he nodded, tears in his eyes as he wrapped his arms around Deceit, who laughed as Virgil was pulled into the hug by Remus’s tentacles, grumbling but making no move to escape the hold.  

He could hear Patton in the kitchen, the smell of eggs starting to waft through the room. He could hear Roman talking softly with Logan, who was already flipping through whatever book he was reading, trying to find the page he’d been on. And he could feel the warmth from his two best friends surrounding him, filling him with a soft joy he hadn’t felt in far too long.  

And he wondered if nearly dying was maybe the best thing that had ever happened to him

#sanders sides #deceit sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #patton sanders #logan sanders #remus sanders #oc dark side #he's barely in it #sympathetic everyone #sympathetic deceit #sympathetic remus #deceit angst #Angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort #heat stroke #familial dark sides #protective everyone

[bothcreativitybois]

The Mayor’s Sweet Treat Chapter 7

Ao3 link Wordcount: 1861 (a bit shorter than usual sorry) Ship: Intruality TWs: Food, anxiety attack, unhealthy family relationships (mentioned), swearing, sexual references Chapters: 1 2 3 4 5 6 Taglist:  @crazydemigod666 @star-crossed-shipper @newtnotfound @idont-freaking-know @someoneiwasnt @crownofrats @the-sympathetic-villain @cute-and-angsty-princess @lonelymuffin @bloodyjay-0666 @im-an-anxious-wreck @fantasticallytired @obsessive-fallen-angel 

Janus subtly slipped away from the large party. Growing up with a parent who is a cop he got very good at sneaking around. As teenagers he, Remus and Virgil would sneak out most nights and get up to no good. Well teenagers may have been a bit of a stretch, it all only really stopped two years ago when Remus decided to run for mayor. Even now Janus was still doing the same things, just alone. Janus looked around the well taken care of lawn, it was very different to any other farms. It hadn’t changed a bit from how he remembered it. He’d been here a few times as a kid along with the others. “Virgil?” Janus called quietly as he poked his head around some bushes. No one was there. Janus was usually the one who helped Virgil when he panicked, the twins were too loud for him but hell they tried. Janus looked across at the door to the large house and saw the barrier blocking the door was disturbed. He ran over and ducked under it. “You’re lucky Remus isn’t the one finding you.”

Remus straightened his outfit and walked over to his twin. He laughed and put an arm around Roman. “Funny seeing you here, Specs.” Remus greeted. Logan’s face fell from the warm smile he was sharing with Roman to a blank professional stare. “Yes, well I am in charge of supervising the closure of Mr Sweet’s bakery. Which includes any and all events that he holds or attends on behalf of the bakery until then.” Logan explained. Roman shook off Remus. “Also it’s hardly fair they be held up in a small hotel room for a month.” Roman added with a laugh. “Did you know Logan uses they them pronouns? Just like me!” They looked at their twin with sparkling eyes. Remus looked between the two people. Roman was the kind of person to get along with anyone, but this was more than that. They’d never had another person like them around. This was more than just business.   “That’s great, Ro.” Remus said in a somewhat strained tone.

“Virgil!” Janus’ voice echoed through the halls of the house. His shoes squeaked against the tile floors. Everything in the house was so white and clean. Would it kill them to add some colour? A smirk threatened Janus’ face as he thought of the ways he could ‘help’ with that. Janus passed a room with an open door and caught sight of a flash of dark colour. He stepped back and looked in the room. “Virgil!” Janus shouted quietly at the sight of his friend. Virgil stood in front of a mantle. On instinct Janus walked into the room and shut the door. He looked around and began closing curtains. Once the room was dark enough he walked over to Virgil and looked at his face. Virgil’s mouth was covered with his hand as tears soaked his face. His eyes were drowning. Janus pushed his dark and damp hair out of his face. Virgil didn’t move from the touch. “Virgil, can you talk?” Janus asked as he put a hand on Virgil’s chest. His heart was pounding like a thoroughbred's hooves. He shook his head. Remus wandered away from Roman and Logan, they were chatting happily and it was clear he couldn’t solve the problem from there. Instead he went for something more direct. He looked around for Patton. An elderly lady popped into his vision. “Remus dear.” Mrs Blackforest said. “You seem lost.” “I am fine. Just looking for Patton.” Remus informed while looking around. Mrs Blackforest sighed. “You know, it’s hardly kind to ignore the host.” Mrs Blackforest scorned. Anger bubbled in Remus’ chest. Who the hell was she to tell him about rudeness after everything they put Virgil through? The stress, the passive aggressive comments, the hovering over everything he did. Remus balled his hand into a fist and tried to stay calm. Patton and Roman put too much work into this for it to be ruined by him. “Apologies, Mrs Blackforest.” Remus grumbled through gritted teeth. “That’s more like it.” Her face lit up with a happiness that Remus found unsettling. “Now, have you seen Virgil? I wanted to have a word with him.” She asked. Remus couldn’t answer that if he wanted to, which he didn’t. He tried to think of an excuse. “Remus!” There was a gentle hand on his shoulder. He turned to see Patton holding a tray with a sweet smile. “Could you take these around?”

Janus managed to get Virgil to sit down but hadn’t made much progress past that. He had one hand against Virgil’s chest and the other across his shoulders to support him. Janus shushed quietly as Virgil rocked back and forth. “Tell me what you ate today.” Janus soothed. Virgil moved his hands and opened his mouth slightly. “I had... toast... and coffee... for breakfast.” Virgil only just croaked out. Janus nodded. “Then what?” He asked. “An apple at the office as a snack.” Virgil spoke a little more clearly. “And for lunch?” Janus asked again. He noticed Virgil’s heart rate start to slow. “A sandwich.” Virgil said as his rocking subsided. “What was on it?” “Leftover bacon, some lettuce and fresh tomato from your place.” Virgil calmed as he listed the ingredients. Janus reached up and wiped Virgil’s face. “What are you having for dinner when you get home?” Janus gently moved his hand into Virgil’s. “Stew that’s been in the slow cooker all day.” Virgil answered as he squeezed Janus’ hand. Listing things always helped Virgil. That and organising. Always most calm when he was in control. Virgil closed his eyes and tried to steady his breath. From this point he could help himself, but Janus still didn’t want to let him go.

Remus took the tray from Patton and began walking through the crowd. To his surprise Patton walked with him. “Ya didn’t have to do that.” Remus said as he lifted the tray to his shoulder. Patton smiled. “Hey, you're always helping me. I might as well try to help you.” Patton responded with a light-hearted giggle. Remus looked down at him quickly. “Yeah but…” Remus tried to find an excuse. “I have everything handled. You shouldn’t have to worry ya pretty little head ‘bout me.” Remus looked up and saw Logan ahead of them, he quickly turned right and Patton followed. “But I want to help you.” Patton looked up at Remus with large eyes. Remus remembered all the time he had seen Patton make those eyes in his thoughts. “I want to help you.” Patton cooed as he rubbed his hands against Remus’ shoulders. His legs were crossed around Remus’ torso as they cuddled on a couch. Patton massaged Remus’ bare shoulders as the larger man sighed. Remus leant his head back onto Patton’s shoulders with a soft hum. “You’re an angel.” Remus whispered as he nuzzled into Patton’s neck. “What?” Patton asked, alarmed. Remus snapped out of their fantasy. He saw Patton’s alarmed and blushing face before realising that he had said that last part out loud. He stammered for a moment. “You’re too nice to me.” Remus eventually managed. “You’re always so kind and gentle, like an angel.” Patton looked down. A giddy feeling rose in his chest, he felt like a schoolgirl with a crush. Surely Remus didn’t mean it in that way. “And what does that make you?” Patton teased. “The handsome sexy demon that tricks you into leaving heaven.” Remus beamed and put a hand on his hip. Patton laughed. Remus felt a sense of pride from being able to make Patton laugh, even though he’d done it before. He couldn’t take his eyes off Patton’s smile.                      As guests started clearing and the light started fading the group joined up again. Remus and Virgil placed down two empty trays as Janus began folding one of the tables. “Was there anything left?” Virgil asked in surprise. Patton turned to him with a proud smile. “Not much. Maybe a few cream puffs.” Patton said happily. “I can get rid of those for you.” Remus responded quickly. The group laughed. Patton turned and picked up a tray of small blobs of cream and pastry with strawberries poking out of the cream. Virgil and Remus both quickly took one. The pastry was nearly as light and fluffy as the cream with the strawberries adding a little bite to it. Patton turned again to keep packing but was met with a familiar face that wasn’t there before. He jumped back slightly. “Ah Logan!” He shouted in shock. Remus quickly stepped forward and defensively put a hand on Patton’s shoulder. Roman stood next to Logan and rolled his eyes at Remus. “Sorry for startling you.” Logan apologised. “I didn’t know you were here.” Patton stated. Roman had made sure he talked to everyone at the picnic. Except Logan. “Ah yes, that would be Remus’ doing I believe.” Logan said calmly. “Anyway, I just came to congratulate you. Everyone seemed to enjoy your food.” “Well… thank you, Logan.” Patton said. He was caught off guard with how kind Logan was being. “Did you happen to try any?” Patton was deathly curious and he wasn’t sure why. Logan adjusted his glasses. “No. I am not a fan of sweets.” Logan answered plainly. Janus and Virgil watched as they packed up, wondering if they should step in. “Anyway.” Roman interrupted to avoid any awkwardness. “Here is your pay for catering.” Roman handed a cheque to Patton, their nails shining in the little light that was left. Patton squinted at the cheque. Remus gasped. “Damn... Patty Cake…” Remus marvelled before turning to Roman. “Is that number right?” “Yeah, that’s the usual amount my company gives caterers plus some extra from Mrs Blackforest for the, and I quote, ‘irresistible little goods.’” Patton kept squinting at the paper. “Uh… I don’t have my glasses…” Patton said as he looked up at Remus who leant down and whispered the number to him. Patton quickly panicked. “I can’t accept that much!” He tried to hand the cheque back to Roman. Roman and Logan both backed away. “You deserve it, sweetie.” Roman reassured. Remus turned Patton to him so he’d stop trying to assault his twin with a slip of paper. “And it means we’re well on the way to paying off what you owe.” Remus added. “This is a good thing!” Patton quickly became excited from seeing how happy Remus was. A wide smile broke across his face. “You’re right.” Patton submitted. Remus cheered and hugged Patton who laughed. If this is how Remus reacted now he couldn’t imagine what would happen if they actually managed to get all the money. “Anyway, I’m gonna show Logan around so I’m heading out.” Roman shouted over Remus’ excitement. They waved to Janus and Virgil before turning to walk away. “Are Patton and your brother dating?” Logan whispered. Roman laughed and looked back where the two men celebrated together. They’d not seen Remus this happy… ever really. “Not yet.” They smiled. Though they knew it wouldn’t be long.

#the mayor's sweet treat #sanders sides small town au #roman took over #intruality au #intruality #sanders sides #sanders sides au #sanders sides fanfiction #sanders sides fic #ts remus #remus sanders #ts patton #patton sanders #ts roman #roman sanders #ts janus #janus sanders #ts logan #logan sanders #ts virgil #virgil sanders #tw food

[tsarisfanfiction]

Got some bad news today, so ventfic happened.  Haven’t read it at all, let alone proofread, but throwing it out here anyway.

Whole thing is under a cut because, well, ventfic.  Starts kinda dark, lots of blood, lots of background dead people.  Mentions of cult stuff and human sacrifice.  The boys themselves are uninjured, though.  More angstfic than whump.

If you want some background music, throw on anything by the band Ghost (who I listened to while writing this).

Blood.

So much blood.

It painted the walls, the floor, splattered onto the ceiling, and Gordon’s heart was somewhere in his mouth as he ran through it towards the unmoving figure in the centre of it all.

Scott was face-down, sprawled with his limbs spread akimbo as though his unconscious – please just be unconscious – body had been dropped there.

The concentric splatters of crimson supported that theory.

“Scott!”

Blood stained his own clothes, gunshot residue stained his hands.  The additional splashes as his knees hit the liquid didn’t make a difference.

Getting this far hadn’t been easy.  Gordon tried not to think about the trail of corpses behind him.

He tried not to think about the pile in the corner, either.  White, drained, discarded like cattle.

There was too much blood to belong to a single person.  Far too much.

The area was finally – finally – secured.  Gordon could take his time as he reached for his limp, unmoving brother, and carefully rolled him onto his back.

His throat was unmarked. Out of everything, that was the first thing Gordon noticed.  There was no jagged gash, matching those on the bodies in the corner.  His wrists were similarly unblemished, and when his bloodied, gunshot-smeared fingertips found the slow, sluggish pulse snug below his jaw, a sob of relief left him.

Scott was covered in the crimson, even if it wasn’t his.  Gordon tried to wipe it from his face with his sleeve, but that was dirty, too, and only smeared it.

“Scott,” he whispered hoarsely, his brother’s name like a prayer of thanks, gathering the limp body close to him.  Cradling his torso close, stained hand in sticky dark hair as he pressed their foreheads together.

Scott didn’t respond, but Gordon hadn’t expected him to.

The cult might not have got as far as the sacrifice, but they’d had to subdue their victims.  The puncture mark in Scott’s arm wasn’t fully hidden by red.

“I’m getting you out of here,” he promised, and he knew Scott’s face wasn’t just blurred because it was so close to his own.  “Out of here and home, but we’ll both need a bath first otherwise everyone’s going to have a heart attack.”

As far as attempts at levity went, it wasn’t his best.  He hadn’t even managed to lighten his tone, but it didn’t matter because Scott couldn’t hear him anyway.

“They won’t hurt you,” he promised.  The still-warm gun in its holster at his hip promised.  “I won’t let anyone hurt you.”

There was no point staying there, in the room of blood with humans piled like slaughtered cattle in the corner.  Gordon would grieve for them, for the lives he was too late to save, later.

“Come on,” he murmured to his brother.  “Let’s move.”

Carrying Scott was never easy.  Physically, it was the awkward logistics of his height combined with the weight that and his muscles gave him.  Emotionally, carrying Scott meant their strong, ever-present leader had fallen and the hierarchy had shifted.

But it was also a reassurance.  If Gordon was carrying him – staggering under the weight and feeling the carved soles of his feet biting into the ground to keep him from slipping – then he was safe. He was alive; the slow, even if shallow exhales of air from his mouth and nose tickled the sensitive skin of Gordon’s throat as he held him close and dared the world to even try and take his brother away from him.

The world didn’t.

His grip was tight, blood making his hands slip on the equally blood-covered body in his arms, and it was determination that had him crossing the room again, finding the doorway and leaving the crimson-splashed walls for something almost startlingly plain.

Almost because there was some blood there, too.  Spatters from gunshots.  Bodies slumped against the walls.  Trails on the floor where they’d been dragged.

Gordon hadn’t brought his family, but he hadn’t come alone.

His boots made an awkward sound, damp but not quite a squelch, as he walked.  If he turned his head, if he looked away from the brother in his arms, there would be red prints declaring his path for all to see.

He didn’t.

He kept walking forwards, through stained corridors until there was fresh air and the only copper tang was coming from the mess smearing him and his brother.  Death was behind him.  Ahead of them was life, the GDF bustling around as they finished securing the area.  Many horrified looks landed his way.  They were ignored.

Not even Colonel Casey was spared acknowledgement as he strode straight towards the nearest flyer and boarded it.

No-one stopped him.

Scott was too big to sit in his lap, but Gordon ignored logistics and kicked enough jump seats down that his long legs could sprawl across them instead of trailing onto the floor.

A hand offered him wipes. Their godmother’s lips were pinched thin, so thin the line was barely visible.  Gordon accepted in silence and pulled his brother close against his chest with one hand while the other started to wipe at the blood on his face.

It cut white streaks through the crimson, clearing away the smear his sleeve had caused earlier. Scott didn’t stir at the ministrations, even as Gordon gently teased the blood from where it had congealed in his eyelashes and painted his lips.

The moment he finished, more blood dribbled down from his hairline, carving a single crimson line down his face.  That was banished, too.

Wipes didn’t work so well on hair, but he tried as brown strands flopped in clumps, occasionally prompting another slow dribble down Scott’s face.

“Does he need a hospital?” Colonel Casey asked him.  Gordon hadn’t noticed that she hadn’t left, but didn’t let his eyes leave Scott.

“No,” he said – croaked. He pressed two fingers to his brother’s pulse again just to be sure, but it hadn’t changed.  Nothing they couldn’t handle at home.  “Just somewhere to clean up.  And a change of clothes.”

She didn’t question further. He knew she understood.

“Strap in,” she ordered instead.  “We’ll take off in ninety seconds.”

GDF flyers weren’t conducive to keeping his brother in his lap and safely strapping in.  Gordon compromised, propping Scott up in the seat next to him and guiding him to flop on his shoulder as he kept his arms around him.

No-one tried to tell him to do anything different.

He continued wiping his brother’s skin, the different angle giving him better access to his hands. Gordon paid close attention to his nails, making sure to get every last speck of red out from underneath them as the flyer ferried them away from the crimson-covered nightmare and into the cool greys of a GDF base.

Gordon didn’t know which one.  He didn’t care, either.

The offered stretcher was ignored.  His back was starting to murmur, early signs of protest, but it could take more before he needed to listen to it.  The most important thing was that Scott was safe.  With him. In his arms.

It was his godmother who led the way, not bothering to waste either of their times with idle conversation. Military facilities didn’t offer luxury, but they offered the basics, and as long as it got them clean, it could be a bucket in the middle of a field.

“I called your brother,” she told him as he kicked the water into flowing.  “He’s on his way.”

No point asking which brother that was.

Gordon nodded to show he was listening.

“I’ll keep him with me. Find us when you’re ready.”

He nodded again and she left.

Clear water ran red as it ran over them.  Their clothes stuck to their skin, but that didn’t matter.  They were ruined, anyway.  Spare GDF uniforms sat in the corner, clean and crisp and bland.

Scott still didn’t stir, and Gordon curled around him underneath the showerhead.  Water ran down his face; in the mirror it looked like tear tracks carving through red paint.

Gordon’s eyes were dry.

He had his hands and a sponge someone had left in reach.  He had an unconscious brother and crimson swirling down the drain.  He had a gun with sodden gunpower.

He didn’t move until the water ran clear from shower head to drain.  Skin pruned, a hint of washerwoman’s hands on both of them.  Clothes were left in the tray, fit for nothing but incineration. Towels were hijacked, military issue familiar and grounding but uncomfortable, and GDF uniforms acquired.

The grey made Scott look washed out.  Gordon didn’t look in the mirror to see what it did to him.

Picking his brother up again was easier and harder that time.  There was no blood, now.  He was pale and still unconscious, but unharmed.  No nightmare fuel to force feed their brothers.  He didn’t look like he needed protecting, needed to be kept safe from the world.  But he did, because the slack face and the skin a shade too light was wrong.

“You’re okay,” Gordon whispered, voice cracking.  He didn’t know who he was talking to.  Who he was reassuring.  “You’re okay. Let’s go home.”

Virgil would be waiting in Colonel Casey’s office, brow furrowed far enough to swallow the scar on his nose whole.  Gordon just had to get them there, now they didn’t look like something out of a horror movie, and then his job was over.

He just had to reach Virgil.

#thunderbirds are go #thunderbirds are go fanfiction #tsari writes fanfiction #scott tracy #gordon tracy #colonel casey #blood #thunderangst #bloodbath

[hydra-collector]

Wrath

Ship: Platonic LAMP???? I wouldn’t really know what to call it, platonic (or romantic) Intrulogical

Characters: Logan Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Roman Sanders, Remus Sanders

TW: self-harm, suicidal thoughts, crying, blood and fairly visual description of injury

Words: 1542

Summary: “Shut up.”

The last word was uttered in a growl, Logan’s hands tugging at his new long sleeves in frustration. Patton didn’t hear him, Virgil gave a small glance before looking back over to Roman, and Roman was too invested in his debate with Patton to notice.

“I said, shut up.”

(In which Logan has an angry breakdown.)

~~

“Shut up.”

The last word was uttered in a growl, Logan’s hands tugging at his new long sleeves in frustration. Patton didn’t hear him, Virgil gave a small glance before looking back over to Roman, and Roman was too invested in his debate with Patton to notice.

“I said, shut up. ”

He said it louder this time, gaining the attention of the other three.

“Isn’t that kinda rude, Lo-”

“I don’t fucking care,” Logan cut Patton off. The moral side looked taken aback at his use of cursing, but didn’t say anything. Good.

“I think you’ve been plenty rude already, haven’t you, Morality?”

He refused to address Patton by his name, the cuff of his button down he was gripping cutting off the blood flow in his wrists. He straightened up, looking around at his friends.

“Do you know stupid you all sound?”

“Wow, teach-”

“Nope. None of you are allowed to say anything. I have been trying to help you for the past hour, but yet you all still refuse to listen. This problem would have been solved ages ago if you had just let me talk. You hate that, though. You hate me.”

Roman and Patton looked as if they were trying to hold back from saying something back. Logan let go of his cuff, shifting his hand so his nails could dig against his wrist. Little pricks of blood made their way out of his skin, but he didn’t dare stop.

“You all have made it very clear that you want nothing to do with me. You ignore me, interrupt me, ridicule my perfectly valid advice, villainize me for simple mistakes that I immediately fix, ignore my obvious mental health issues while you make a big deal out of each other’s slight concerns, and you,” he shot a look at Patton, “don’t respect my boundaries.”

“We-”

Patton cut himself off this time, anxiously tugging at the sleeve of his hoodie hanging down over his chest. He hadn’t deserved that gift, Logan decided.

“Maybe you’re all right. Maybe I’m not important. Virgil may be a key component of Thomas, but are you really going to pretend that Anxiety is more important than Logic?!?”

He looked around, letting the thought sink into their minds. The guilt was showing on their faces, he could tell that they felt bad, once Logan finally had the balls to call them out on it.

“Or maybe I’m just not important to you. I’m annoying, stupid, intrusive, boring, the list and insults go on, and I’m not good enough for any of you. I have tried harder. I have done everything I can to make you all listen, to make you all care, to show that I know full well how much feelings affect me in the best way that someone like me can. But you don’t want that. You don’t want anybody harder to deal with than Anxiety, you don’t want someone as useless and incompetent at I am because you refuse to make an effort to understand me, how I work, how I feel things, because I’m the problem!”

His voice was getting louder, bloody half circles drying as he shoved his finger into his chest, pointing to himself. He could feel salty tears pricking at the corners of his eyes, not making an effort to ignore them anymore.

“And look where that got us!!! Thomas is miserable because Anxiety has him staying up to ungodly hours of the night, Morality has him giving up his free time when his friends are mildly inconvenienced, and Creativity has him destroying his mental health over his self worth! I could help if you all would fucking let me!!! Virgil’s scared for Thomas’s mental health, for Roman’s mental health, for Patton’s mental health because somehow Patton destroying Thomas’s life hurts him, while I’m left here to figure this out on my own, while knowing the people who I care about hate me!!!”

It was a scream at this point, the words beginning to scratch at his throat as tears really began to fall.

“And maybe I’m not good enough!! Maybe I’m not logical enough!! Because what kind of Logic does something like this!?!?”

Logan yanked up his sleeve, tearing bandages off of numerous cut marks, sweat hitting them as their dried blood glittered underneath the light. Patton made a move to approach him, but Logan let out a sound between a hiss and a scream which scared him away well enough.

“Maybe I am defective!! I’m not GOOD enough for you, I’m not good enough for THOMAS!!! I’m USELESS, I’m-”

He cut himself off by biting down hard on his right arm, teeth breaking the skin until blood leaked out. He yanked up his other sleeve, using his nails to dig past the skin on his left arm, leaving four long, thin streaks of blood.

“Logan, stop. ”

Virgil moved forward, worry and fear showing behind his eyes. Logan just missed hitting him, using a swatting motion to get him away.

“Logan, please, we can help-”

“DIDN’T I TELL YOU TO SHUT UP?!?!” Logan’s death glare darted to Roman.

He inhaled sharply, face softening to worry as he saw the looks of fear on his friend’s faces. He took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I have no desire to hurt any of you. You are still my friends, so the only person I will be hurting is myself.

“I’m just… so tired. So fucking tired of being ignored, and maybe you all are right. Maybe I deserve this. The blood, the pain, the absolute misery. Maybe I need to shut up, maybe I need to never say a single irritating, useless fact ever again. Maybe I need to hurt myself. Maybe I need to let Thomas make the decision to get rid of me. Maybe I deserve all of this! Maybe you guys should hate me, despise me, never give a single shit about what I say! Maybe I should fucking die, let you use me as an outlet for your anger, each of you using your own method of torture! Maybe I shouldn’t hate any of you, just hate myself for being such a useless piece of shit!!!”

He was sobbing now. Hard, painful sobs wracking his body as what he believed the ultimate feeling of misery must be. He pulled his glasses shakily off his face with his right hand, using both hands to keep them steady.

“Well… if I’m not gonna be Logic anymore, guess I won’t need these. ”

He snapped them in half, ice lacing his voice. He dropped them to the floor, reveling in the crack that came as he shattered them with his foot.

“Lo…” Patton’s voice was quiet and scared, terrified for his friend.

“I wanna die,” Logan muttered, voice wobbly and throat hurting. He took his tie in his hand tentatively before getting a firmer grip on it.

“I wanna DIE!” he screamed, ripping the tie from his neck. The back of his neck hurt from the force, his hands hurt from the grip, his arms hurt from the cuts and biting and scratching, his chest hurt from the crying, his head hurt from the crying, his legs hurt from more cuts, his throat hurt from screaming, his mind hurt so much from his stupid, stupid emotions.

He was hurting. All the time.

“Wait, wait, Logan, no, don’t leave-”

He sunk out before Virgil could finish his sentence, setting off through the corridors quickly. Surely there would be something in the Imagination, maybe a tall building, a deep lake, a ravenous monster-

He was stopped in his tracks in the Dark Side’s living room by a strong arm, the world too blurry for him to make out obstacles in his path without his glasses. The arms- which he recognized as Remus’s due to the soft amount of fat on them- tightened around his middle as he struggled to get free, mostly just succeeding in sinking into the Dark Side’s warmth.

“Re- let- Re-”

He wasn’t able to voice much more than that due to the state of his throat. He gave up, letting himself go limp in Remus’s arms as he continued sobbing, the pain in his throat reignited with every one. He barely registered being picked up and carried through the halls, processing nothing but Remus, knowing nothing but hold on, hold on.

He was dropped onto something soft, sobs receding into whimpers. His eyes were shut, it wasn’t like there was really any point in opening them without his glasses. He felt a pang in his heart at the memory of his ripped tie falling to the floor, the blurry figure of his shattered glasses already on the ground. A new round of painful sobs wracked his body at the thought.

Warm hands surrounded his body in a thick blanket, Remus wrapping it around both of them. Logan had nearly forgotten what physical contact was like, the warmth and the burning bleeding comfort into him. Remus’s arms squished around his soft belly, holding him close and tight.

He was still angry. At himself, at the others, even at Remus. But he couldn’t bring himself to give an ounce of care as he sunk into the much needed hug.

Taglist: @bluerosesbleedred @mxxangel

#logan sanders #logan angst #intrulogical #platonic intrulogical #patton sanders #virgil sanders #roman sanders #remus sanders #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #ts roman #ts remus #ts fic #sanders sides fic #grays fics

[lovelivingmydreams]

Paper Flowers: Assumptions

People make snap judgements all the time. About fictional characters as well as the people in their lives. It gets dangerous however when you assume your perception is the truth.

“Hello all you Fanders out there!” the voice over of DarkStarlight sounds through your speaker as the screen shows the title card of their series Fanders illustrated. The concept is simple enough. They talk about things from Thomas’ content or the fan community they liked while showing speeddraws based on it. It’s really fun to see.

“So a while ago I made this drawing based on the names we picked for the Prince’s nemesis.”

The image changes to a drawing of two versions of the character standing back to back. The dark, mischievious Marcus against a dark red background, and the awkward blushy Kevin against a lighter blue, the collors mixing to purple in the center.

“And the comments have been wild!” A blank canvas is shown as they start sketching.

“There were several theories about how these two boys could be one and the same.

The theory I want to draw today is a cute one. So CatPrincess suggested Marcus is an act Kevin puts up to help the prince. Kevin, according to her, is a staff member of the palace. And when the Prince got old enough to start looking for a princess, he needed an excuse, since he’s gay or just not really interested in romance. He never really was invested in any princesses in the vines after all. He’s had the most chemistry with males. Prince is gay confirmed.”

You chuckle. And shake your head. This fandom is wild. You just hope the characters can make a transition to youtube. It seems like Vine’s time is really coming to an end.

“Anyway, so whether the prince knows it or not CatPrincesss didn’t say, but Kevin ends up disguising himself as a villain so Prince can say he’s busy defending the realm and that he can’t pursue any Princesses until the villain is defeated. I really like the idea of Prince and Kevin having little inside jokes and grinning at each other secretly while Kevin tends to the family during dinner as they hear the king and queen complain about the villain. So. What do you think?”

And just like that the drawing is done. It’s Prince and a formally dressed Kevin glancing at each other with subtle smirks while behind them their silhouettes are crossing swords.

You like and share the video before checking in on tumblr, you still have some time to kill before dinner.

 “I don’t see why we even bother still making vines every day. We’re finished, it’s over,” Virgil muttered as he paced the floor of the common area. He really hated being the barer of bad news, but no one was coming to terms with this simple fact.

“We have sworn to entertain the fanders, and it is not over until the fat lady sings,” Roman explained calmly from his spot, draped over the couch, pretending to be more interested in his notes for the ultimate storytime tour.

The announcement had taken the internet by storm and even Virgil was excited, though he never showed that to the others. He couldn’t leave his room for five days because he couldn’t stop ‘sparkling’ as Roman had come to call his excited look. Just in his head though, he was fairly sure Virgil wouldn’t appreciate it.

“What are we going to do after!?” Virgil insisted.

“We could look for a real job?” Logan suggested though he wasn’t very hopeful.

Virgil was nodding to himself, that was an option he supposed.

“We could make more scripted youtube video’s? People have been commenting they wished they could see more of our characters than six second skits?” Patton suggested.

“Brilliant idea Padre!” Roman exclaimed as he sat up and started skribling.

“We could make a series about the dad and teacher! Liam, Fiona and Gavin might like participating… Oh, and we could make marvelous stories about the prince… Idea!!!!”

He jumped up and made a gesture towards all of them. “We could make a series about us!” he declared proudly. “The fanders want to know more about Thomas, what better way to talk about that than by showing them who we are!?”

Patton was clapping excitedly while Logan and Virgil seemed apprehensive.

“Oh, that sounds so fun!!!” the fatherly side cheered.

“I don’t know,” Virgil objected. “It feels too exposed.”

“Indeed, we are a very personal part of Thomas. We should not be shown to the world so carelessly,” Logan agreed, mostly opposed to being displayed as a source of entertainment for others.

“We don’t have to go all in right away. Thomas can start with acting like our vine counterparts and see how the fanders react and if they like the idea we slowly but surely let our real selves shine through. Little steps,” Roman suggested.

Logan cocked his head. “That was, a very well thought out solution…” he admitted. It was odd. When had this started? Roman usually just spat out ideas and took any criticism as a personal offence. When did he start taking feedback into consideration?

Roman gasped and brought a hand to his heart in offence. “Don’t sound so surprised!” he huffed.

“I don’t know…” Virgil said slowly. The fanders liked his character… But that guy wasn’t literal anxiety.

Roman sighed dramatically. “Tell you what. I draft up some ideas. And after the tour we can revisit the subject. Vine won’t disappear overnight,” he reasoned.

Logan and Patton nodded in agreement. “Fine,” Virgil relented before pulling his hoodie over his head and stalking off.

Patton frowned. “He’s never happy is he?” he muttered sadly. Roman bit back his reaction. Patton was both wrong and right. This part of Virgil couldn’t be happy. But Roman knew of other parts that could be the happiest out of all of them. Happier than even Patton could ever hope being.

“Well who’s fault is that?” A voice drawled from the door opening. Roman automatically drew his sword while Patton and Logan reflexively moved to stand a little more behind him.

“Such a warm reception, I’m so touched,” Deceit said, hand on his heart, a sarcastic sting to his voice and a roll of his eyes.

"Well," Roman huffed as he put away his sword. "Maybe if you didn't apparate in dark corners for no good reason we wouldn't assume an attack was imminent. You are lucky you just missed anxiety, he might not have been able yo hold himself back." Realy what was that snake thinking?

"Thanks for the concern Roman, but other than you three, I know how to handle him."

Roman once more bit his tongue. Keeping his promise not to reveal their bond has never been so hard. This particular side was much more likely to catch him evading and omitting.

He rolled his eyes dramatically and crossed his arms in front of him. "Is there anything you needed Deceit?" Patton asked as he stepped forward laying a soothing hand on Roman's arm.

"Just checking in. And I must say I am not impressed. Morality I had hoped you'd put in a little more effort to make Anxiety comfortable up here. At this rate I might have to take him back with me." Roman could feel Patton cringe at that. That's it. Virgil's friend or not, Roman would not let him upset his family.

“Oh drop it scaleface. Empty threats will only go so far,” he said with a hand on his hip and a roll of his eye.

“Who says they’re empty?” Deceit drawled, studying his nails. “The whole reason Anxiety came up here was to reduce his stress, but if you all just keep making him unhappy, what is the point?” Deceit wondered calmly, though Roman could see there was a vague annoyed pull at his eyes. He clearly did not like being questioned.

“If he really was as unhappy as you imply, then why hasn’t he gone back to you and Remus who supposedly know how to ‘handle him’ so much better?” There was a mild flinch in Deceit’s posture, making Roman wondered if he accidently hit a nerve somehow.

“Just say what you came here for, Deceit. We all have other things to do.” Because deceit was rarely straightforward. Virgil hadn’t told him much about living down there, but that much he’d learned.

Janus just huffed and left.

“Charming as always!” Roman huffed as he combed his fingers through his hair.. He let out a sigh and dropped his hand before looking down at Patton.

“Are you alright Padre?” he wondered.

“I… Yes actually. Thank you Roman…” Roman wanted to bid the two bespectacled sides a good day and start writing on the new series and finish of his ideas for the tour, but the he noticed Patton was biting his lip nervously and so he waited.

“Do you really think… he’s not going to take Anxiety back is he?”

Roman smiled warmly down at Patton before turning to Logan. “Logan, could Thomas ‘forget about anxiety’ at this point?” he asked.

Logan cocked his head confused. “No, denying Anxiety is a part of Thomas, the way Thomas refused to acknowledge his presence in the past, is not possible. Deceit does not have the power to force such a change. Only if the three of us were to agree to it, could something like that be accomplished. And I do not intent to participate in such endeavor,” Logan stated. Patton relaxed at that.

“And I suppose I have gotten used to our war of wits. I shan’t permit him to leave until I reign victorious! Speaking of victory! I’m off writing a script so brilliant the fanders will demand more!”

And with that he finally did make his exit.

He returned to his room and immediately started on his projects. He was not sure what Deceit was trying to accomplish, but it would not deter him from his mission.

In the commons Logan has left as well and Patton his tidying up. Trying not to let Deceit’s words get to him… Who’s fault was it? His? Roman’s? Was there another thing he was missing?

At the border of the conscious mind Janus was beyond annoyed. It didn’t really matter. The idea of failure was planted, and if he knew the lights at all it’s that they would try harder to make Virgil feel comfortable, if only to prove him wrong. Virgil would not like that Janus had gotten involved, but he was worried. How couldn’t he be? Over the past few month’s Virgil had been acting off. Sure he was being more sociable, but after every interaction he was so rained he more or less disappeared. That was the only explanation Janus had for the times he’d visited to make sure he was alright and find the room empty. He hadn’t brought it up with Virgil, since doing so would most likely end up being more about him entering Virgil’s room without permission rather than an actual explanation.

And it didn’t really matter. Janus knew one thing with unwavering certainty.

If the lights didn’t get their act together, they might lose him.

Next: momceit

#sanders sides #ts sides #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #paper flowers au

[sign-from-god-complex]

Summary: The two of them were friendly now—the days of hurtful nicknames and angrily putting each other down had long since passed—but even still Virgil was hesitant to open up to Roman. And it seemed as if Roman felt the same.

Pairing: Platonic prinxiety.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Virgil wandered down the stairs, rubbing at his eyes and only catching each step with his foot on sheer luck alone. He was barely even conscious—having woken up from a nightmare not more than a few hours after he'd gone to bed—and in his vaguely uncomfortable and jittery state, Virgil had decided that maybe a snack would make him feel better and started his move down to the kitchen.

The light was already on, he noticed vaguely, but it didn't really seem important until he came to the door of the kitchen and was greeted with a sight that woke him up entirely.

"You're crying."

Roman spun around abruptly, wiping at his eyes like Virgil was earlier but in less of an I'm-tired-and-trying-to-wake-myself-up way and more of a trying-to-hide-the-consequences-of-a-3-am-mental-breakdown way. Virgil would know; he had plenty of experience with both.

"I'm not crying, Charlie Frown," Roman insisted, "Your brain is playing tricks on you. Just go back to bed."

"Low blow, blaming a man's faulty brain for something you didn't want me to see," Virgil said, dropping into the chair across from Roman and ignoring the way he let out a sigh as he averted his gaze.

The two of them were friendly now—banter was easy and they were able to discuss things without it heating up to an argument every time—but there was still a layer of hesitancy when it came to being vulnerable. It wasn't just Roman either. Virgil had more than once entirely played off his anxiety or insecurities so that he could go deal with it himself or, if it got too bad, go bother Logan or Patton with it. It was stupid because they were friends and logically, he knew there was nothing to worry about. Even still, he was afraid. And he had a feeling Roman felt the same way.

"Do you want a hot chocolate?"

Roman blinked at him. "What?"

"I said, do you want a hot chocolate?" Virgil repeated, getting up from his chair. He threw open a few of the kitchen cabinets, rifling through it to grab the chocolate. "I mean, mine are nowhere near as good as Patton's—I really don't know how he does that—but they're still okay, you know?"

He glanced back at Roman to see him staring at him blankly and raised an eyebrow, prompting Roman to clear his throat.

"Uh, I mean, if you want to."

Virgil nodded, switching on the element and grabbing out a saucepan and milk, not bothering to measure any particular amount as he poured it into the pot.

"So... you wanna tell me what's going on?" Virgil asked, keeping his back firmly to Roman.

It's what he'd want, he thinks, to know that someone's listening without the pressure of having them stare you directly in the face—like, he loves Patton, but sometimes that earnest gaze can be a bit overwhelming.

"I promise, it's nothing. I'm just a bit tired-"

"Roman."

There's a long silence and if Virgil hadn't been listening intently for any sound, he would have thought that Roman had just up and left.

Then, there was a shaky inhale from behind him, let out all at once. "I'm... overwhelmed."

Roman paused, seemingly gathering his thoughts and as he did so, Virgil grabbed a rubber spatula from the jar on the counter, stirring the milk. He wasn't actually sure if it was necessary but it was something to do with his hands that wasn't simply wringing them or biting at the nails.

"Our fans expect a lot from us, you know? And the production value keeps getting bigger and we keep coming up with these new ideas but if we don't execute them perfectly it's going to seem like it was ridiculous for us to even try. And there's deadlines and short videos to keep up with and-" He heaved out a sigh. "There's just so much to do."

"There's always so much to do," Virgil interjected, breaking the chocolate into the boiling milk, "I think that's what life is."

Roman laughed but it wasn't particularly joyful, almost more like a sob than a laugh. "Maybe. I don't know. I just... I want everything to go perfectly but I know that's impossible."

There was something in that statement, some underlying insecurity that Virgil couldn't help but pull apart. With all his years being the literal embodiment of a person’s deepest fears, he’d become fairly well versed in feelings of inadequacy and leaving them alone to fester certainly wasn’t gonna do Roman any good.

"You're right. It is impossible," Virgil replied casually, "But why exactly do you think it needs to be perfect?"

"So that people will like it! People need to like-"

"You." Virgil switched off the element, turning around to look at Roman with something soft and sad in his eyes. "Is that right? You think that if the work we produce isn't perfect, if you don't make things that people love then you can't be loved."

Roman stared wide-eyed at Virgil, lips parted ever so slightly. "I- I just-"

And with a sob, he broke off, face crumpling as he failed to hold in his tears. Virgil winced, suddenly flooded with need to shield Roman from anything that could make him look so devastated.

"Roman, come here."

He opened himself up for a hug and Roman dove forward, gripping at Virgil's hoodie and shaking in his arms as they wrapped around him.

"We love you," Virgil spoke insistently but quiet, as if were he to speak any louder something inside him would break, "We will love you the same if you never create another thing ever again or if you create something new every day for the rest of your life. You don't need to do anything to be loved. You're here. That's enough."

Roman nodded into his shoulder. "I- I know that. I do. And you all keep telling me that's it's fine but-"

"I get it. It's hard. It took me a while to accept that you all love me too, you know? But you'll get there. And we'll be happy to remind you of it any time you need."

Virgil pulled away from the hug, leaving Roman blinking at the ground with still watery eyes. He seemed... more solid, somehow—less like he would shatter if Virgil looked at him wrong—and the relief he felt at that was almost palpable.

"And, Ro?" Virgil asked, prompting Roman to drag his gaze back up to him, "Yeah, the stuff you create may not be perfect but I haven't seen a single thing you accomplished that you haven't done a pretty fucking great job of."

Roman smiled—slight but real and filled with gratitude. "Thank you, Virgil."

"Anytime, princey."

Virgil turned to grab a few mugs from the hooks under the cabinet, placing them on the counter. A quick test of the milk revealed it to be plenty warm still and with a great deal of care, Virgil poured the hot chocolate into the cups, having apparently made more than enough for just the two of them.

The silence as Virgil moved wasn't uncomfortable—much more akin to the kind of silence you expect from two people alone in the kitchen at the early hours of the morning—and Virgil was immeasurably glad for it.

Eventually, he passed one of the mugs over to Roman. He hadn’t really put much thought into which ones he’d grabbed but he noticed now that it was one of Roman’s personal ones and written on it, in curling font, read the words, “Imagine. Create. Repeat.”. Virgil tried not to find the irony in that.

"So, uh, how about we finish this hot chocolate and then we head back to bed, yeah?" Virgil asked, picking up his own mug from the counter and taking a sip.

Roman didn't react for a moment except to rotate the mug he gripped tightly in his hands, holding it up by his face so the steam still coming off it warmed his cheeks. Then, he nodded, a smile barely turning the corner of his mouth.

"Yeah. Yeah, Virge, that sounds great."

Taglist: @mutechild @super-magical-wizard @shadowsfromthesun @teadays @sandersships @autism-goblin @camcam774 @deadlyhuggles6 @romanthestarstruckqueer @whispers-stuff-in-your-ear @rainboots-are-for-snobs @sanders-and-sides @spirits-in-my-thoughts @hold-my-hat @goodandbadisallmadeupnonsense @stop-it-anxiety @figurative-falsehood @jadedfantasies231 @idosanderssidespromptssometimes @poisonedapples @sanders-screams @another-sandersidesblog @do-not-just-see-observe @mychemicalpanicattheemo @primaryyblogg @localtransgrape​ @fandomsofrandom​ @gattonero17​ @airiervessel​ @ollyollyoxinfree​ @tired-and-probably-crying​ .

#sanders sides #sanders sides fic #virgil sanders #roman sanders #prinxiety #platonic prinxiety #lo can write #2.5k milestone #((patton)) #he is Mentioned

[just-call-me-the-intrusive-thot]

Soulmate September - Day 2

Day 2 - There is a timer that counts down to when you will meet your soulmate. 

Pairing(s): Romantic RoSleep (Roman x Remy/Sleep), background Analogical

TWs: Mild Swearing from Remy __

“No, no, no, you move my 3 O’clock to 4, my 4 O’clock to 5, then cancel it. I don’t even want to have to look at that scumbag from accounting today, babes.”

Remy kept taking on his bluetooth headset as he approached the Starbucks he’d grown so accustomed to. Normally just inhaling the scent of ground coffee, vanilla, and cinnamon spice would be enough to flood his stressed cranium with serotonin. But that wasn’t going to cut it today. 

Today he was on a mission; his soulmate timer had stopped during his visit here a week ago, and he was determined to find out who it’d stopped for. With his schedule cleared as much as possible, Remy walked into the Starbucks in his business attire, having only bothered to throw on his leather jacket when he’d left the office. Not that his outfit was unplanned, he had made a point of wearing the same white button up shirt, black waistcoat, and matching black slim cut pants he’d been wearing when he first noticed the timer had stopped. If not for making sure his soulmate recognised him, then simply because he looked damn good.

It was a gamble, assuming his soulmate would be there today, but by now he was desperate. Remy knew the rules; after exactly a week was up, his timer would disappear for good and he’d never know who his soulmate was. And he wasn’t about to let that shit fly. No sirree. 

“Now, which one of you is it?”, Remy mumbled under his breath. As he stood just about to open the door and leave, Remy had memorised the men who were present in the cafe that fateful day; eight potential men, two eliminated visually over the first two days when he noted their timers were still going. Another three all eliminated themselves the days following as they revealed themselves to be straight, in a relationship, and very straight, in that order. Remy sighed impatiently as he perused the last three men he’d narrowed things down to.

The first was a short, burly man with chestnut brown hair that tickled his button nose while he leant over to pet the outrageously cute border collie sat by his chair. His cheeks were dusted with freckles that drew attention to his mossy green eyes and sunkissed skin. The blue polo shirt and tan shorts he wore clashed with the fact he clearly worked hard labour in the outdoors. Remy guessed he worked with plants going by his scuffed and dirty boots, and the mud on his pupper’s paws. Remy dubbed him, unsurprisingly, Dog Guy.

The second, Space Cadet, was a far departure from Dog guy; his auburn hair and pale skin spoke of celtic origins while his numerous books concerning the far reaches of the universe spoke of the cosmos. Of a man who harboured an intense scientific curiosity as deep as his sapphire eyes. His black shirt hidden under a dark blue flannel shirt showed the insignia of the local museum, which Remy found fitting. In the nicest way possible, Space Cadet looked like he belonged there with his pristine glasses and tidy upkeep that bordered on neurotic.

And the third man, Anxiety Magnet, was once more a drastic change from the other two. Dark skin melted into an all black outfit consisting of a black hoodie sporting custom purple patches - perhaps he made it himself, Remy couldn’t be sure - alongside black ripped skinny jeans. His purple sneakers matched his nailpolish and eyeshadow framing heterochromic brown and green eyes. Every time Remy would scope out the young man, he’d always be anxiously biting his nails, fidgeting with his napkins, or doodling in the notebooks (Remy noted three different ones at least) he brought with him.

Remy was in for a loooong ride but hopefully today he’d finally figure out which of these lucky doofuses is his soulmate.

He walked over to the counter to order his usual drink, giving the familiar barista a nod as the man recognised him,

“Afternoon, Remy,”, the barista smiled, “The usual for our beloved fairy godmother?”

Remy rolled his eyes fondly, “Roman, babes, kindly shut up.”

Roman laughed, “Come now, wouldn’t want you turning into the Evil Queen, would we?”

“Joke’s on you, babes, I like the Evil Queen.”

Roman feigned a dramatic gasp, only returning to making Remy’s usual once he’d secured a smile from the stressed office worker. Remy twirled his lanyard in his hands; Remy Merryweather. Of all names to be cursed with around a Disney fan like the barista, it HAD to be one of the uncool ones. Okay, maybe it wouldn’t have been so bad if Roman hadn’t insisted on labelling his drinks with “Flora”, “Fauna”, and “Aurora” ever since. Remy didn’t dwell too long on the kindly barista though, he was a man on a mission. 

Turning his attention to his first choice, Space Cadet, Remy watched him from the table he sat at; no wedding ring, his wrist was covered from sight, and he was most certainly gay going by the pride patches sewn into the backpack under his table. Perfect, he could just be the one.

As if on cue, Space Cadet shifted his watch and frowned. Perhaps he’d get lucky-

Ah, he’s leaving. Shit. Well, there was nothing else for it, Remy carefully nudged the trashcan by his seat as the man walked past, tripping him. The man let out a yelp and hit the floor. Remy was just getting up to help him when Anxiety Magnet came hurrying over out of the blue, 

“You alright?! That looked painful....”

What the fuck. Remy was about to speak up when Space Cadet locked eyes with Anxiety Magnet and for a moment the two were silent as the latter checked his timer, prompting the former to do the same. 

Son of a bitch.

Space Cadet sat up and reached a hand out to Anxiety Magnet, revealing that his timer had just stopped.

“Logan Baird, charmed to meet you, dear soulmate.”, he smiled warmly at the anxious man who helped him to his feet.

“Likewise,”,the anxious man responded, “Virgil Peyton. Nice to know my soulmate’s so handsome.”

Ugh. Remy watched as Space Cadet and Anxiety Magnet - or Logan and Virgil as he was now painfully aware - gathered up the fallen books and left together to go be happy and in love. While Remy could only watch as they did so. 

Fantastic. Well, at least he knew who his soulmate must be now. Who knew Dog Guy would be the top dog? Admittedly, Dog Guy was Remy’s last choice in a partner, but hey, after all the trouble he went to, he wasn’t about to argue with fate. Once Roman brought him his order - an iced, Ristretto, ten shot venti, with five pumps of vanilla, seven pumps of caramel, four packs of Splenda, and a sprinkle of cinnamon on top with “Prince Phillip” written on the cup this time - Remy made his way over to the lucky fellow.

“Excuse me, mind if I sit here?”, Remy asked as he approached the Dog Guy. 

The man smiled warmly, “Oh, not at all, kiddo! Hope you don’t mind my dog or things might get ruff!“. The joke made Remy want to drive his head into the ground at mach speeds, but if they were soulmates, he’d learn to love it. Hopefully. Maybe.

“Like, no worries babes, your dog is totes cute.”, Remy noted the man’s cheerful smile. He sat down and offered his name, “I’m Remy, what about you?”.

“Ah, how rude of me! I’m Patton Fairchild! And this is Foster!”, he gestured to the collie, “It’s nice to meet you Remy!”. Maybe this guy wasn’t so bad of a choice after all; he's bubbly, friendly, gentle, and Remy truly couldn’t deny the sexy lumberjack appeal.

“Likewise, though I hope I’m not intruding on anything here. Like, I don’t wanna take up your time if you’re here on a date or-”

“Goodness no, I’m not on a date! Don’t you worry, you’re not interrupting anything!”, he assured Remy.

“That’s good, I wouldn’t wanna get in the way of you and your soulmate, sweetie.”

“Oh, you don’t have to worry about that,”, Patton stated, sending Remy’s hopes soaring before they shattered on the marble floor, “I don’t have one. I mean, I love love and all that, but I never much felt the lure of it myself!”

God. Fucking. Dammit.

Remy’s face fell. None of them were his soulmate. He stayed to talk to Dog Guy- Patton for a while so as not to make the poor guy feel awkward, then watched him leave. Another failure with not enough time left to find his soulmate. Remy sat alone, sipping the dregs of his order. He ignored the constant texts from the office as he stayed til near closing time. How could he have been so stupid? How could he have not paid attention when his timer hit zero? Maybe he deserved this; to be miserable and alone for his negligence. His soulmate probably wasn’t even missing him either. Or maybe they were and now they couldn’t find him-

“Mind if I sit here?”

Remy rolled his head towards Roman, taking in the sweet sympathy pouring from his rather lovely smile. In his hand he held a to-go cup and his work apron was replaced with a red and white letterman jacket. Great, now he was keeping the charming barista from going home. But when had Remy ever cared about not being selfish?

“Sure, take a fuckin’ seat, babes.“, he groaned, no longer caring about keeping up the facade of being more put together than he really was. Roman sat down with a concerned gaze and slowly slid the drink over to Remy.

“It’s green tea. It’s a little less extravagant than your usual tastes, but it’s good for relieving stress..”

Roman encouragingly tapped the cup lid, smiling contagiously, “And something tells me the Evil Queen has some tension she needs to release.”

Remy gave a slightly bitter laugh as he looked up from playing eye-contact-chicken with the table and noted the green tea read “Maleficent”. God, this guy’s such a dork.

“It’s more than just some tension, sweetie,”, Remy began, inhaling sharply as he sat up, “I’ve just realised I’m never going to find my soulmate. I was stupid. I wasn’t thinking and the moment I looked away, I missed him.”. The half-snort he gave came out so much more painful than intended, “I let my timer hit zero, babes, and now it’s almost been a full week. My last three chances just walked out the goddamn door. Two of them as fucking soulmates, Roman! How unfair is that?-”

Roman’s expression gave him pause. It wasn’t the sympathetic expression from before, more like he was seeing Remy for the first time. Like he’d made a cosmic realisation that was about to change his life.

“Your timer… when did yours stop exactly?”, he asked. The wording gave Remy pause as he realised. 

He hadn’t accounted for Roman. How could he have been so blind? Perhaps he couldn’t believe the charming barista could be the one. Perhaps he thought the man who smiled genuinely at him every day while he whittled down potential soulmates and greeted him with only the kindest of regards was too good for someone like him.

“It… stopped on Wednesday-”

“Around 2:15 pm? During the lunchtime rush?!”, Roman cut in excitedly. Remy was aghast as Roman pulled back the wrist of his letterman and revealed a stopped timer about as faded as Remy’s. With no hesitation, anticipation growing, Roman gently reached for Remy’s hand, which the latter offered enthusiastically. To their mutual delight, their timers disappeared, proving that they were indeed soulmates.

Both were stunned, Roman’s expression wildly happy, his brown eyes sparkling with equal elation and adoration. As Remy took in his gorgeous tanned skin, beautiful mocha hair, and that wonderful chiseled face he had the growing urge to caress and litter with kisses, all he could say in the moment was,

“Does this mean you’ll finally spell my fucking name right?”

--

This one was so much fun to write! I think this is the one piece of writing where I mostly nailed Remy’s character, so I hope this one does well TTvTT @tsshipmonth2020

#tsshipmonth2020 #roman sanders #remy sanders #sleep sanders #rosleep #soulmate september #coffee shop au #basically #fanfics #my fics #sleepingbeauty #thats the other name for the ship right #otherwise i put all the sleeping beauty references in there for nothing #anyway i really like this one ehe

[codecarpenterbee]

Sanders Sides Theory/Imagine

(originally posted on my Twitter @/CodeCarpenterB)

Imagine.

Okay okay, so this is more of a theory than an imagine (and possibly an idea for a future episode), but bear with me. You'll need some background before we get to the ✨j u i c y ✨stuff.

❤️/* Content warning for angst. */ ❤️

What's in a name?

It tells a lot about a Side. Their past, their present, their future. Going through the series, we can clearly see that a name is a deeply personal thing to a Side.

It's their identity.

And that identity is strongest for one Side in particular.

Which Side that has repeatedly, needlessly reaffirmed his name?

Which Side that panicked when his name was doubted, albeit jokingly?

Who is the one Side that is so steadfast in his name, his identity, that he is nothing without it?

Identity. Self. Ego. Pride.

R-O-M-A-N.

Think about it.

In SvS, he nearly panicked when Janus said that Roman's name was "actually spelled W-R-O-A-M-M-I-N."

I'll admit, Janus was definitely joking here. Simple teasing, nothing more. The most intuitive Side in the Mindscape surely isn't onto something.

In FWSA, not once, but TWICE did Roman reaffirm his name, even though no one was questioning it right then.

It seemed completely out of place, but there he was, telling us that he is indeed Roman, the one and lonely. (oop Freudian slip, and a discussion for another time...)

The bottom line: in recent episodes, it has been made perfectly, 100%, crystal clear.

Princey's name is Roman. His name has always been Roman, and his name will always be Roman.

...right?

You could probably spell your own name for me right now if I asked, almost without thinking.

So why would Roman, the brave, handsome, unbeatable Roman, need to use a memory device (Really Obviously Muscular And Nice) in SvS to remember how to spell his own name?

All the clues (the memory devices, the needless reaffirmation, heck even the part in SvS: Redux where he uses Janus' name against him) point toward one conclusion:

Roman's name is important to him, specifically him.

"Prince Roman" is his identity.

But what if it wasn't?

Imagine. (Yeah, we're starting for real now.)

* * * * * * *

They'd sunk down into Roman's room looking for him.

When they found him, they wished they hadn't.

The very instant Thomas and three of the Core Sides rose up, they could tell that everything was wrong.

Roman had always been so careful to keep his room regal and fit for royalty, but now the very air told a "riches to rags" story.

The red and gold curtains behind Patton, now just barely hanging onto the walls, had been ripped to shreds by human hands and some sharp weapon.

The makeshift stage upon which Thomas stood had almost been turned upside down, quite literally, in what was obviously a fit of rage.

Even the shelf of acting awards, the ones Roman had been so proud of, had been destroyed, shards of wood and metal littering the carpet.

"You sure he's here, Logan?" Patton asked, twisting the sleeves of his cardigan, a habit he'd most likely picked up from Virgil.

The anxious Side himself was clearly even more worried, biting his nails and glancing toward the Side Patton had addressed.

"Of course he's here. We've searched all the other rooms, and he wouldn't enter the Others' rooms, so this is the last-"

If he hadn't ever so slightly moved to the left at that moment, the katana that harmlessly whizzed past his face could have done some serious damage.

A Side (most likely Patton) screamed as the lights went out. An eerie voice began to speak.

They wished it didn't sound so familiar yet so strange, like the voice of an old friend but grating against their ears.

"You know what they say. Rome wasn't built in a single day."

A Side (most likely Patton) screamed as the lights went out. An eerie voice began to speak.

They wished it didn't sound so familiar yet so strange, like the voice of an old friend but grating against their ears.

"You know what they say. Rome wasn't built in a single day."

Like the room itself, everything about him was so, so wrong. His spotless white attire had been traded in for a suit of black, almost blending into the shadows. The royal sash he'd cared for so well was gone, replaced by one of a much, much darker shade of red.

Even his eyes, once a warm and vibrant shade of chestnut, now almost glowed as they burned into the souls of anyone looking into them.

"R-Roman?" Thomas stuttered, clearly in shock. Surely this figure before him couldn't be the prince he'd known and adored since childhood.

"Roman is dead."

"NO!" Patton yelled before he could stop himself. "You're Roman! You're Princey, our hero!" His glasses fogged with the tears he hadn't even noticed had begun to fall.

"You're right. Roman was a hero." Then those fiery eyes stared directly into Thomas'.

"But I'm not your hero, am I?"

So who—what was this Side? He looked exactly like the Roman they knew, yet nothing like him at all. Like the departed specter of someone they once knew, only very much alive and terrifyingly real.

Thomas could barely choke out the words through his panic and shock, but most of all, his regret.

What had they done to cause Roman to become... this?

"W-who are you?"

All eyes were on him as he began to speak.

"My name..."

The now-Dark Side before them took his sweet, sweet time to answer, dramatically savoring every word as though he'd rehearsed for this moment for days.

Who knows? Maybe he had.

And it was in that moment they understood the gravity of the situation.

Roman was gone.

"My name is Romulus."

*** fade to black ***

#sanders sides #thomas sanders #ts sides #sanders sides theories #roman sanders #ts roman #dark roman sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #patton sanders #ts patton #virgil sanders #ts virgil #sanders sides angst #sanders sides theory #star trek