#but then there are fics or videos were Roman is really guilty for something that isn't even canon

[creativia10]

Janus doesn't need a Plushy

Summary: Janus understands why he and Remus didn't have plushies. It wasn't personal. He totally doesn't care, he doesn't need them. The other sides were just being annoying about their plushies anyways. Yet Remus surprises him with one anyways for some reason.

Pairing: Janus and Remus

Word count: 1735

Warnings: Cursing, Suggestive Themes

Notes: New Episode "Can Plushies Improve Our Health" Spoilers? Leave it to a new episode drop to inspire me to write another cute fic again. Note, I am a Patton Kin and don't mean to imply anything negative about him in this. I just love Janus too. Let me know what you think.

Janus didn’t care that there wasn’t a plushy of himself. No really. It would do numbers on his reputation anyways. It was annoying anyways having to wait on the others as they set up that silly plushy video anyways. Honestly. Of course, Remus had to insert himself in for that split second of messing with Roman.

He was a gremlin like that. Janus sighed to himself. Why did it have to take so long? It’s not like he needed their company or anything. He was a lone snake. But still, it was annoying. Getting so caught up in a video product to promote soft and squishy mini versions of themselves. And they call him selfish. It felt very egotistical to him. Not that he would advocate against that, just that it was hypocrisy for some of them.

So it was a mystery he was still thinking about this of course. He understood why it was the core sides and Thomas for the plushies. It didn’t matter that the others hadn’t said anything. Not that they’d need to, of course, nothing was wrong. And he knew they were caught up in their own things, even if not all of them would even admit to it. Nothing wrong with that. He wouldn’t be silly about this. It didn’t make sense he was still thinking about this. The others had already gone to bed right after filming. He didn’t need soft things, but he wasn’t against the concept of course. Self-care and all that. He wouldn’t be surprised if his self-care routine was like Roman’s unfortunately. Janus just didn’t feel guilty about it.

And if he was reading up more on the psychology concepts addressed in today’s video? Well, he was simply educating himself more out of curiosity. It makes sense to keep up with recently discussed studies in this mindscape after all. He liked to be well informed, no matter what. No real reflection on himself for doing so, of course. Ah, he lost his place. Janus sighed again and squinted his eyes to skim the lines for the last words he read.

A thunk on his door startled Janus. His fingers flinched and wrinkled the pages in the process. Janus wasn’t even given a chance to respond when the door slammed open to reveal a very proud-looking Remus. His arms were behind his back as he sauntered in. The star that he had taken from Roman’s room balanced on his nose in a way that resembled a seal with a ball. He would likely be unable to do that otherwise if he wasn't a side of the imagination. Janus gave him an unimpressed look.

“What have I said about entering my room like that?”

“That it was a very me thing to do and not even surprising anymore?”

“I was more referring to the part where I threatened you were you to do so again?”

Remus shrugged. “Not the deterrent you think it is.”

Janus slumped in exasperation before he willed the door to close. Remus was loud enough without the door open to the rest of the mindscape.

“I’ll get back to that in a moment then. Why are you here?”

Remus bobbed his head up throwing the star into the air. As it fell past his face he blew on it, turning it green. Then he caught it by a point with his fingertip before spinning his finger and making it disappear. His other arm was still behind his back during the whole thing. He must have transported the star somewhere else. After his little demonstration, Remus stepped closer and wiggled his shoulders.

“I got something for you.”

“Oh great.”

There were many things Remus could bring to Janus at this point. Most of which were things Janus did not want to deal with at this hour of the night.

“I’m going to go out on a limb here and guess you haven’t considered whether this is something I would even want? Or for that matter, would it inspire another creative threat from me?”

Remus pouted for a moment before he snickered.

“Nah, you’ll like this one.”

“Oh really?”

“I’m sure of it.”

Janus hmmed. He still doubted it, but unfortunately, Remus had piqued his curiosity.

“Very well.” He turned to Remus and waved him on. “What is it?”

Remus giggled before flinging something forward. Janus fumbled to catch it before he got a look at what he was holding. It was plush of himself? Snake scales covered what would be the left side of the plushie’s face. There was some pink/red coloring around the eye that would be his snake eye. It even came with a little bowler hat and a black cape sewn into it. The hands were yellow like it was wearing Janus’s gloves. Janus raised his eyebrow at Remus.

“Since we weren’t part of their plushy package, I thought I’d make some that are better just for us.” Remus was now holding a plushy of himself. The Remus plushy had a similar style to Roman’s, at least in structure. Except of course with Remus’s outfit instead. It even included a white/gray streak in the hair. There was a red around the eyes though. Remus wiggled the plushy in his grasp with his middle finger.

“Ah. While I fear to say this out loud, that is unusually tame for your creations. Why did you think I would want one?”

“Because you’re a petty bitch and would want one at least out of spite among other reasons. You get to see a mini version of yourself too, which you of course deserve as the badass you are.”

Janus’s lips twitched into a smile. “Alright.” And because this was Remus, “Is there anything else you wish to show me about them?” He knew there had to be more to them.

Remus got that mischievous twinkle in his eye again. “Ours make sounds unlike theirs! Much better.” He said as he flung his arms up. “Here, squeeze his squishy middle.”

Janus pursed his lips and squeezed plushy Janus's middle.

“Ssssuck-”

Janus glared at Remus. Remus of course still smiled.

“What? It cuts off there. I leave it up to the imagination. It could be you continuing on to call someone a suck-up, like you said about Patton in the court scene.”

Janus sighed. “I suppose that is the best I could expect from you.”

Remus nodded. “Oh yeah. Do you wanna hear what sounds mine will make?”

Janus held up a hand before Remus could squeeze the Remus plushy. “No thank you.”

Remus snickered again.

“Well, you’ll probably learn eventually.”

Remus twirled a wrist so he was now holding a Janus plush in his other hand. “Because we’re the only ones who get both if we want because I say so.”

A Remus one popped into Janus’s lap too.

“And why would I want a plushy of you as well?” After all, he was the side Janus saw the most.

Remus smirked at him. “Are you saying you wouldn’t want something to cuddle with that reminds you of me?” He asked as he waggled his eyebrows. Janus opened his mouth to respond then paused. That was definitely a trap if he heard one. After a moment of Janus not responding Remus laughed and shrugged.

“We might also want to play with them in some way, cause screw social expectations.” Remus pressed their plushes’ faces against each other, and they made a kiss sound. Janus grimaced.

“Why is that necessary? They are cute plushies.”

Remus raised an eyebrow at Janus and winked. “Cute is overrated. We have to add our own flavor to them since they are ours.”

Janus supposed he and Remus weren’t exactly known for just being cute. Except by some fans of course. And Patton who had “Dad” blinders on.

Remus spun the Remus plush on his finger. “So, I’m taking more creative liberty with other copies of my plushies to prank the other sides. Any suggestions on what I could do with them?”

Janus chuckled at the thought of how Remus could use his plushies to prank the other sides.

“I will leave that up to you. I trust it will be very interesting.”

Janus didn’t want Remus to wake all the sides at this time with his shenanigans, but he doubted he could have really stopped Remus from doing so anyways though.

Remus snickered. “So anyways, what do you think?”

“Hm?”

“Of the plushies.”

Janus looked back down at them.

“Well…I’m certainly not going to play with them the way you just demonstrated.”

“You can do whatever you want with them, Jan. They’re your plushies.”

“I would not have asked for them. But I see nothing wrong with holding onto them though. Even for the mere sake of being special and having something not everyone has.”

Remus smiled and gave Janus a knowing look. “Sure Jan. Anyways, g’night!” With that, he slunk out.

Janus stepped over the book he had dropped earlier and sat on his bed, looking over the new plushies more. Something felt settled now that he was seeing plushy versions of himself and Remus. He couldn’t quite place it, but he didn’t feel the need to think of it too much at that time. They certainly had better outfits than the other plushies. Even if Janus had a bias towards his and Remus’s aesthetic, he didn’t really care if that was the case though. He also suddenly felt a tiredness he hadn’t mere moments ago. No matter. Janus set the plushies down on either side of his pillow before getting ready for bed.

He slipped into bed in his comfy pajamas, plushy Remus and Janus on either side of him. Maybe eventually Janus can have more Sanders Sides plushies. Once things had settled down. It wouldn’t do any harm if the sides weren’t aware of it. Nobody needed to know.

Yet, a few moments later, two loud sounds and a flashing red light jolted him awake. Janus blinked several times and then looked down at the plushies he hadn’t realized he had grabbed.

Plushy Janus was still hissing. Plushy Remus was screeching demonically with his eyes flashing red lights. They faded at the same time. Janus groaned and threw himself back against his pillow. He would have to discuss a nighttime mode for the plushies with Remus. Even so, the plushies stayed beside him on the bed.

#sanders sides fic #tss spoilers #dukeceit #tss janus

[a-small-batch-of-dragons]

Tiny Prince, Crumpled Dreams

Prompts: Hi! I just wanted you to know that your Roman angst fics are amazing, they're really painful and they're lots of fun to read. I dunno if youre taking requests but if you are, could you do a fic where Roman traps himself in a unending nightmare as punishment for hurting Thomas and making the sides hate him, even though they dont. When the sides find Roman in bed upset and not waking up they have to manually wake him up themselves somehow. And then DLAMP hurt/comfort cuddles happen afterwards - transformationloveb

In case prompts are still open, would you maybe consider writing a roceit angst fic where after the events of POF, Roman doesn't use Janus' name and instead calls him Deceit because he thinks he doesn't deserve to use his name (which Janus had given as a sign of trust), but Janus, who was feeling guilty about the whole situation thinks it's a way of mocking and slighting him? Misunderstandings abound until Janus finally confronts Roman and then they start realizing what happened and it turns into sort of a hurt/comfort, with both of them comforting each other. Anyway, I love your fics and I think you're an incredible writer! - residentfangirl2104

Idk if you're taking prompts but I have one if you are! ehhehehe... Maybe there are some of Romans scenes that Thomas cut from the 5 year anniversary video. Because Roman freaked out on camera and later asked him to cut them out OR Thomas cut some that Roman liked out because he didnt like them but oh no, Roman's feelings are now crushed... cue the other sides finding the cut scenes. Angst. HAVE AN AMAZING DAY AND DRINK SOME WATER *Throws a water bottle in your general direction* - anon

Hi! If you're still taking prompts for Sanders Sides, I'd love to see your take on "feeling small" being uncomfortably literal, like shrinking-to-Borrower-size literal. I adore your writing, like, you're up there with SoDoRoses of Love and Other Fairy Tales fame for my favorite Sanders Sides writer. Thank you for sharing your work with us.~ - amaranthinepaladin

your stories are always so good! could i possibly suggest one where roman keeps his dreams in a drawer to look at when he's sad (I got this idea from peter pan but he does already have several things like it in your stories and you do love that roman angst) - impossiblysporadiccreation

First off… your work is absolutely incredible! I can’t tell you how many hours of sleep I’ve tossed aside to read it, every time you post a new fic it absolutely makes my day! Secondly, I have but one simple request, I need Roman to suffer, I simply cannot get enough angst and you do it so well, I mean I love him but at the same time… you know how it is - anon

Read on Ao3

Warnings: roman traps himself in a self-depricating nightmare, nothing explicit

Pairings: dlampr, can be platonic or romantic i don’t care

Word Count: 5205

Thomas has lots of dreams.

Roman's job is to take care of those dreams, look after them, do everything he can to nurture them and make sure they grow up to come true one day. But the world isn't kind to dreams, not when they struggle to exist outside of a piece of paper tucked into the drawer of a desk.

...nightmares, though. Nightmares are easy.

So when everything goes wrong and dreams seem impossibly out of reach, Roman reaches for a nightmare he won't wake up from.

“Roman! Roman!”

“Why isn’t he waking up?”

“I don’t know, what—is he still breathing?”

“I’ve got a pulse!”

“Roman!”

———

Thomas has lots of dreams. 

When Roman was—well, when all of them were younger, including Thomas, those dreams would swell and swell and swell into big golden bubbles, floating to the top of Roman’s room. Sometimes he wouldn’t even go to sleep at night, just lying on his bed and staring up at them. The light would bounce around the room and fill it with warm colors, flashes of images of lights on a stage, of walking red carpets, or working on movies that would send them to stardom, or any number of things. How could you go to sleep when something like that was right in front of you?

Then Thomas would be up the next day a little groggy and unfocused and Roman would remember that yes, he had to sleep in order to dream. 

Now that they’re older, the dreams no longer bubble up with such frequency. Instead, Roman keeps them in the drawer in his desk. 

Some of them add themselves to big folders, making the papers crinkle as they shifted together. Some of them were brand new, sitting neatly off to the side in another stack, waiting patiently to be sorted through after everyone was awake. And some of them were on just scraps of paper, jotted down with an impatient hand and tossed inside. 

Roman would sit and go through them at the end of each day, sorting away the ones that could be added to files, which ones needed to be made new, and which ones could be tossed away. Not in the trash, no, but into the unsorted piles, just in case. 

The drawer didn’t have its own compartments, but he didn’t mind. Dreams weren’t supposed to be tightly constrained, they were just supposed to be…guided every once in a while. To make sure they didn’t clash with each other. Especially since Logan and Thomas liked to sit and think together for a long time, sometimes they’d come ask Roman for a file and it wouldn’t do to have the files mixed up. 

…and it wouldn’t do for Roman to accidentally give them his file either.

———

“What happened? Why is he like this?”

“Stay with us, Roman, don’t go anywhere.”

“Wake up, Roman! Why isn’t he waking up?”

———

Roman knows he dreams for Thomas. He doesn’t dream for himself. He can’t. That’s not how his role works. He doesn’t create for himself, he creates for Thomas. 

He learned that long ago, when they’d told him he needs to create good dreams for Thomas, the right dreams for Thomas, ones that would be useful to him and help him be a good person. So he learned that he’s only allowed to be happy when Thomas is happy with his dreams and so he needs to learn how to make them right. 

But sometimes Roman has dreams that aren’t for Thomas. 

When he let that slip, Patton’s eyes had widened and Logan had been quick to explain that it was alright, that was his job, to think of ideas, but they didn’t all have to be good. That wasn’t how having ideas worked. 

(It should be, Roman had thought, that’s what I’m supposed to do.)

So all of the ideas that weren’t for Thomas went in their own folder. Where Roman could look at them and keep them separate and maybe, just maybe, if he found something that could work as a dream for Thomas, he could workshop it into something for Thomas to dream. 

The keyword there was ‘maybe.’

Thomas had his own dreams. Thomas had his own things that he wanted to dream. And Roman was Roman, so he helped make Thomas’s dreams his. And he kept his own dreams separate, because that is what he was supposed to do. 

And when he wasn’t dreaming, when he couldn’t dream, or when his hands started to fade again because he couldn’t believe in himself, he would go find his folder and hunker down under his blankets and he would read about his dreams. 

Sometimes, if he were lucky, he could read a few of the words and close his eyes and have the dream again. Or at least he could lose himself in it enough to forget everything, just for a little while, to disappear into the aether of what it was to be Roman who could dream until he could come back and be himself. 

To lose oneself in the unreality in order to touch the real again. 

When he couldn’t deliver the right ideas for videos, he would lose himself in dreams. 

When he couldn’t suggest the right words for the songs they would sing, he would scan the words until he was so swollen with them that he had to close his eyes to let them free. 

When he couldn’t do his job to make Thomas happy, he curled shaking hands around the dreams and imagined he could.

———

“Alright, Roman, thanks for filming with us today.”

“Oh, but of course! After all, you can’t make a five-year anniversary without me! I am one of the Core Sides, after all!”

“…yeah, buddy, you sure are.”

“Sorry, is that too much?”

“No, no, I mean, it’s in character with what the viewers will be expecting, so…”

“Okay. Got it.”

“Is it gonna be too much for you? This is supposed to be a more serious episode, so I’m sure you could tone it down if you wanted to.”

“No, no, that’s the role we’ve—I’ve built up to, so we can’t have me breaking character here.”

“Alright. Ready?”

“Act One!”

———

Thomas is upset again. And it’s his fault. 

He…they’d worked so hard for the callback! That audition had been stellar, they’d done so well, and the director had even mentioned that they’d been excited for him to do a screen test the next time! 

So of course, he’d been a little overwhelmed to look at the schedule to make sure they didn’t have anything else going on, but come on! It was an Alfred Hitchcoppolucas movie! 

…so yeah, maybe he’d been a bit quick to dismiss the fact that they’d made up their minds to go support Lee and Mary Lee and implied that it would be a waste of time compared to the chance to be in a movie, but…

…and maybe he’d been a bit too quick to speak for Thomas because he wanted to go so badly…

…and maybe he wanted to listen to Deceit because he was agreeing with him…

…even though that’s what happened last time…

…and everyone was saying Deceit was bad…

…but that’s what happened last time with Virgil! Thomas didn’t like Virgil, had even gone so far as to say he hoped and dreamed to get rid of his Anxiety, and what was Roman supposed to do? Roman was supposed to help Thomas achieve his hopes and dreams! And here Thomas had been, explicitly telling him what his hopes and dreams were!

But now Virgil was here to stay and Roman didn’t actually dislike Virgil, and—and if they acted that way with Virgil, they should act like that with Deceit, right?

…right?

“Ooh, I'm afraid that's wrong. It's actually spelled W-R-O-A-M-M-I-N.”

Roman shudders, running his hands over his shoulders to make sure he’s still real. He is Roman. That’s his name, he spelled it correctly, he is here, he is what he is supposed to be. He blinks a few times at his desk drawer and shakes away the last vestiges of Deceit’s voice. 

Shaking fingers reach for the lock and twist, opening the drawer and reaching in for his file. He pulls it out, pushing the drawer shut and walking over to his bed. His shoes land at the edge of the bed as he crawls in, tucking the file under his chin. 

He looks down at the piece of paper in his hands. The words Psycho Godfather Wars II are just visible amidst the tear stains. He opens the folder and slides it inside, closing his eyes and pulling the blanket up over his head. 

He’d been wrong. He sent Thomas to the wedding because that was the right thing to do. He didn’t fight for the callback that everyone had said was so unlikely that they would win because it was the right thing to do. He didn’t bother trying to listen to Deceit and instead listened to Patton because it was the right thing to do. 

…it was the right thing to do. 

So why, Roman thinks as his breaths turn slowly to sobs, does it feel like this?

———

“We’re losing him!”

“Roman? Roman, you’ve got to fight, okay? We need you to stay with us.”

———

“Roman? You here, buddy?”

“What? Yes, yes, sorry, I got distracted. Where were we?”

“Uh, let’s see…ah, yeah. Okay, so how are you feeling about what arc your character’s gone on so far?”

“Ah, yes, my character arc! Truly, the most defining aspect of a story, how you know things have changed, adventures have been had! And, honestly, what an adventure we’ve had over these five years, haven’t we Thomas? We’ve gone on dates, talked about old boyfriends, heck, even found a new one!”

“Well, Nico and I—“

“Oh, I know, I know, it’s too soon, but you can’t blame me for hoping!”

“That is your job.”

“Exactly!”

“…you didn’t answer the question, Roman.”

“Didn’t I?”

“No, you just…kinda talked about what character arcs are.”

“Ah. Well, uh…”

“You gotta speak up, buddy, I don’t think the mic got that.”

“…we haven’t gotten to mine yet, have we?”

“Huh?”

“Well, we’ve had…Virgil’s arc, then we’ve started—mostly through Patton’s, and we’ve introduced some new characters, but I…”

“…you’re saying you don’t have an answer for this question?”

“Sorry. You can cut that out, I think that opening bit can serve as a pretty good cut for someone else.”

“Sure.”

“Moving on?”

———

He knew the wedding would be bad and so he hid. He hid under his blankets with the file tucked close to his chest and his eyes squeezed shut, trying to lose himself in a dream, in something else, just to get away from the way the callback dream burns his hands. But the loneliness wormed its way under the covers and up through his fingers, finding some soft part of his brain to burrow into and make itself at home. 

“Hey. You okay, buddy? You look real sad in this photo I just took. Don’t worry, I’ll crop you out.”

Roman winced, anxiously ripping open the file and scanning it for something, anything, even the stupidest thing to lose them in, to get them out of here, to let them stop hurting here and now, just—just to make it go away. Make it not real. 

But he was real. 

This was real. 

This wasn’t a dream. 

And it dragged Roman through by his ankles, forcing his limbs up by puppet strings and grabbing his mouth so hard there was blood in his smile. 

When Thomas arrived home, he sprung up right away, trying to say something, anything to make it better, but then he remembered. 

This was his fault, so he’s better off staying quiet. So he stays quiet. 

That’s…that’s right.

———

“How do you feel about, uh, talking a bit more about the wedding?”

“Don’t say that word in front of me!”

“…you already used that, bud.”

“Oh, did I? My apologies, um, give it to me again.”

“Are you sure? We don’t…have to talk about this if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, you know the fans will be upset or at least confused if we don’t mention it at all.”

“Yeah, but I can talk about it with the others.”

“Tt, and get what? Patton isn’t going to change his mind, Logan doesn’t want to talk about it anyway, and Virgil and Remus weren’t even there.”

“What about Janus?”

“…what about him?”

———

Roman collapses to the ground, panting and groaning as another bruise opens up on his ribs. 

“Oh, Roman, thank god you don’t have a mustache.”

He throws his head back, gritting his teeth against the pain. 

“Otherwise, between you and Remus…”

A wordless yell escapes his throat as an ice-cold fist plants itself into his stomach. 

“…I wouldn’t know who the evil twin is.”

As tears slip from the corners of his eyes, he regrets ever telling Remus he understood what it was like to have your body decide it didn’t want to be real anymore. 

Roman grunts, heaving himself onto the other side as another smattering of bruises emerge. The pain doesn’t waver, only intensifies, as the words echo back and double over on themselves. He squeezes his eyes shut, ignoring the burn as the tears slip saltwater into open wounds, and tries, tries, tries to get away from the pain. 

It’s no use. 

Other wounds, older wounds on the inside add their input as he writhes there. Whispers of wrong, wrong, wrong, and broken promises, and empty words, and loveless lies. A bone-crushing disappointment that makes him want to clutch his hands to his chest, a sick sense of rejection that makes his throat loosen just enough to scream, and the terrible silence of…of…

“I thought I was your hero.”

He thought he was doing the right thing. 

“I thought I was your hero.”

He thought this was what Thomas wanted. 

“I thought…hero.”

He thought…

“I thought…”

He…

———

“Well, for starters, do you want to tell me why you can’t say his name?”

“…I can say his name, Thomas.”

“Okay, fine, why you won’t say his name?”

…

“Take your time, it’s okay.”

“…what right do I have to say it?”

“What?”

“He revealed his name to us, Thomas. To you. That was—that was the most vulnerable we’ve ever seen him, do you know how much trust that took? To do something like that? To make himself that powerless for even a moment?”

“…it sounds like you do.”

“Yeah, because I’ve played it over and over so many times I can practically do it by heart now.”

“Wait, what?”

“…cut that out.”

———

The first time Roman trapped himself in a nightmare, it was an accident. 

Thomas had seen a trailer for a horror movie and Roman hadn’t been able to stop looking at it. Couldn’t stop seeing the darkness getting closer and closer, couldn’t keep the feeling of dread from taking root in his chest and pressing against his ribs. 

Remus had been the one to find him, shaking him awake and scolding him that he’s the one that’s supposed to be giving Thomas nightmares, not Roman! Roman had blinked awake, eyes teary, mouth panting, and Remus had taken one look at his face and promptly wrapped him up in a hug, muttering something about keeping squishy little brothers safe. 

The second time Roman had trapped himself in a nightmare, it was an experiment. 

He didn’t know he could do it, it just…happened. Thomas had a bad dream, probably due to how loudly Virgil and Remus had been fighting with Patton over something and Logan had huddled outside his door to make sure he was alright. Roman had said he was, sending him away, only for a crumpled scrap of paper to appear in the desk. He’d looked at it, mouth dropping open in horror as he realized what it was. 

But he hadn’t been able to stop reading. 

The words had swallowed him whole, drowning him in a sea of letters that opened the door to the unreality and sent him spiraling down, down, down where he would never be found again. He only managed to claw himself out of it in time for Thomas to wake up when he’d spotted a gap. 

He hadn’t closed the desk drawer. 

He burst from it into his room, crumpling the page up and locking the desk drawer tight, scrambling away to catch his breath. His chest had been on fire, his limbs aching and numb, his face wet with tears. 

It was over, but he…he figured out what it was. 

The third time he trapped himself in a nightmare, it was on purpose.

———

“He’s fading again, we need to wake him up now!”

“I don’t know how! Has this ever happened before?”

“Roro, you—you gotta let us help you, please, you—you have to—“

“Remus, are you sure this worked last time?”

“It did! I don’t know why it’s not now!”

“Roman, please, wake up, wake up!”

———

“Okay, okay, I will, but…can you at least answer me? Even if it’s not going in?”

“You’re not going to move on until I do, are you?”

“I mean, I will if you really don’t want to answer…but I think you do.”

“When did you get so perceptive?”

“Five years, Roman, that’s a lot of time.”

“…yeah, I guess.”

“So…what did you mean?”

“Thomas…I know I’ve…been the bad guy.”

“What? No, no, you haven’t, Roman, you’ve—“

“Let me finish, please?”

“Sorry.”

“No, it’s alright, I just…hhh, I have…I have been the reason a lot of things have happened recently, if not directly, then…at least I’ve had some big role.”

“Roman, it’s not like we have a big cast here, everyone has.”

“Thomas, I’m the one who sent you to the wedding. I’m the one who decided it was a good idea to try and lie to Joan. I’m the one who pushed you until Remus showed up.”

“Roman—“

“I’m the one who mocked Dec—the one who ruined and hurt someone when they were the most vulnerable.”

“…Roman, that day was hard on everybody. You’re not the only one who hurt someone.”

“No? I’m the only one who actively did something that I knew was going to hurt. I’m the one who pressed ‘ignorant,’ I slashed Logan, and I…well, we all know how I left that video.”

“…I…”

“It’s okay, Thomas, you can say it. I’ve accepted it too.”

“No, that’s not it, I—wait, you what?”

“…Thomas, I can’t say his name. I—I haven’t earned it. He offered that as a sign of trust, and I—well, I did a great job of proving why I don’t deserve it.”

“But you—he—he hurt you too, Roman, I know he did—“

“And? He didn’t use that hurt to deliberately make me feel like the worst person in the world!”

“…isn’t that what happened right after you…said what you said?”

“Yeah, right after I proved why I shouldn’t be trusted with something like that?”

“…yeah.”

“Yeah.”

…

“…look, I’m not—I don’t dislike him. I don’t. I…he’d be a better main cast member than I would.”

“Whoa, whoa, wait, Roman—“

“Come on, Thomas, you’ve seen the fans. They love his character, if not as a person, then as a character. They went crazy for his arc, they eat up every single interpretation they can, they—god, have you seen how much content is about him?”

“…yeah, but they love you too, Roman.”

…

“…sorry.”

“It’s not your fault I can’t believe you.”

“Isn’t it?”

“No, Thomas, that’s…that’s mine.”

“…so what do we do?”

“There isn’t much we can do. I…I have to work on earning his trust, we still have a show to do and we have arcs planned, it’ll be worse if we throw them off the rails now. We just have to—I just have to get my shit together.”

“Don’t let Patton hear you say that.”

“Then I guess you’d better cut all of this out and put it where no one can find it.”

———

Remus’s nightmares send you deep into unreality. They bent the shadows to their will and drowned you in the worst version of what if, what if, what if? You got caught in swirls and swirls of the worst your imagination could come up with, taunting you with how deeply they could pull you in and make it impossible to find your way out. 

That’s why Logan was so good at pulling you out. It wasn’t real, you could ground yourself in that. It wasn’t real, it couldn’t hurt you, it was just in your head. 

Roman’s nightmares hurt because you know they’re unreality. 

You are not important. Only in the unreality are you important. 

You are not kind. Only in the unreality are your efforts actually appreciated, are they worthwhile. 

You are not wanted. Only in the unreality are you wanted. 

Only in the unreality can you walk among them like they’re your friends, your family, and not be so small that they could crush you beneath their weight. 

Only in the unreality would they care enough to find you when they haven’t seen you in days, enough to break down your door out of worry. 

Only in the unreality would they desperately run to Thomas to ask what’s wrong, only then would Thomas show them the footage he promised to delete. 

But this is not unreality. 

This is real.

———

“Roman,” someone is calling, “Roman, please.”

“He’s—he’s moving! Look, I saw his hand move!”

“Roman, Princey, can you hear us?”

“It moved again, Roman—“

“Roro, wake the fuck up!”

Roman’s eyes creak open slowly, moving around to drag his blankets over his head. The blanket won’t move. He tugs it harder. 

“Yes, Roman, it’s alright, we’re here, we won’t leave, you’ve got me.”

“Logan, bring him closer to the desk, we don’t want him to fall.”

“At this rate, he won’t, not with the grip he’s got.”

“Awful strong for a little guy, isn’t he?”

“Roro?” Remus sounds close. “Roro, can you hear me?”

Roman blinks. And blinks. And blinks. 

“R-Remus?”

Remus’s giant face splits into a grin. “Oh, thank Kraken tentacles, you’re okay.”

“He’s about two inches tall,” comes Virgil’s voice from over—oh, he’s in Logan’s hand—wait, he’s what?

“Roman,” Logan’s voice says sharply, “Roman, hold still, I don’t want to drop you.”

Roman freezes, then slowly looks down at his hands. He’s…he’s clutching a watch band. A watchband where the face of the watch is almost as big as he is. He’s being cradled in…

“Easy,” Logan soothes, bringing his other hand up to hold Roman more securely, “I won’t drop you. Just let me set you down, alright?”

“Make sure he’s got something from one of us to hold onto,” Remus says as Logan eases him onto the desk, “otherwise he’ll think we’re leaving.”

That is precisely the bolt of fear that shoots across Roman’s mind as Logan's hands start to move away, but then Remus is jumping onto the desk and sliding his own palm down to him. 

“Jesus Remus, don’t crush him!”

“I know, I know.” He softens his voice and leans down. “Hey, Ro-Bro, you feeling small?”

Roman just nods dumbly.

“That’s okay, you’re okay, do you wanna come here and hold onto me?”

Roman struggles to stand up but he—

“Whoa!” Virgil dives forward and holds his hands near the edge of the desk as Roman wobbles dangerously. “Calm down, Princey, you’ve—well, you’ve been asleep for who knows how long and you’re tiny, take it easy.”

“I—I—“

“Shh-shh-shh,” Logan murmurs, bending down so Roman can see him, “it’s alright, Roman, you’re okay. You’re just small.”

Roman looks around, trying to figure out what happened, why he’s like this, when his eyes land on the open desk drawer and the crumpled-up piece of paper.

Remus follows his gaze and his eyes widen. 

“Oh, Roro…”

“What?” Virgil stands up quickly. “What is it?”

Remus swallows with difficulty, picking Roman up as gently as he can and cupping him against his chest. “It’s okay, now, Ro, we’ve got you, you’re okay.”

“Remus, what’s happening?”

“Roman trapped himself in a nightmare,” Remus explains in a quiet voice, “and he’s…he’s having trouble coming out of it.”

“…he imagined he was small?” 

“No, Emo, he—he’s—“ Remus lets out a frustrated noise. “He’s done this because he feels bad about everything that’s been happening and he’s made himself feel small.”

“…so the stuff that we watched, that was…real?” Logan’s face pales. “Oh, dear…”

“Is he awake?”

“Is he alright?”

“Whoa,” Remus growls as Patton and D—someone else slams through the door, “easy, you two, don’t freak him out.”

Patton doesn’t pay much heed to the warning and bustles over, letting out a wounded noise at seeing Roman curled up and clutching Remus’s sash, his hands flying to his mouth. 

“Oh, Roman, kiddo, I’m so sorry.”

“P-Patton?”

“Yeah, sweetheart, it’s me, I’m right here.” He reaches out a trembling hand and carefully pats Roman’s back. “It’s okay.”

Roman shudders at the warmth of it, letting Remus relax his grip enough to set him in his lap. He looks up at the sea of concerned faces and tries to find the words to explain what’s happening. Or ask them to explain what’s happening. 

…or maybe this isn’t real either. Maybe he’s still—

“Hey, nuh-uh,” Remus says, gently tugging on his shirt, “you’re awake now, Roro, you’re here with us.”

“Promise?”

“I promise. See?” Remus gives him the gentlest prod to his stomach. “Real. Right here.”

“Then why am I still sm—small?”

“You’re overwhelmed, little one,” Logan says softly, “and you’ve—well, from what it sounds like, you’ve been trapped in a nightmare for at least a week. It might take a while for everything to…wear off, so to speak.”

“Come on, Roro,” Remus says, scooping him up again, “let’s get you to your bed, that might help.”

Roman clutches Remus’s sash and the others give them a wide berth as Remus sets him down on his bed. As soon as he does, something bubbles in his chest and he gasps. 

“There,” Remus murmurs, “let’s get you out of there, huh?”

“What—why—“

“Unreality,” Remus says as the others crowd around, trying to ask questions, “it’s the stuff we use to make dreams. If you spend too long in it, you can—well, it can get stuck to you. Then you gotta find a tether or something to pull you back out.”

“And in this case…” Virgil touches the covers. “It’s Roman’s bed?”

“This is where you come when you’re done, isn’t it, Roro?”

Roman nods, too busy trying to worm his way under the covers. 

“Oh, shit, I gotcha—there,” Remus’s voice grows muffled as he drapes the blanket over him, “now you just stay under there for a second, Roro, you’ll be okay.”

Roman closes his eyes and tries. Tries to be here, tries to be real, tries—but the unreality clings to him and he can’t. It’s too—it’s too perfect. This sounds like something that he would break just because he could and he can’t believe this. It’s too close to what he wants. 

Then there’s a soft murmur and a hush falls over the room. Roman stills, trying to figure out what’s going on, before a gentle weight touches the blanket over him. 

“Sweetie,” someone murmurs, and Roman’s eyes shoot open, “sweetie, I’m not sure if you can hear me, or if…you can tell, but I don’t have my gloves on right now.”

Something in Roman’s chest burns. 

“I saw the footage, sweetie,” the voice continues, “I…I’m so sorry.”

No. No, this…this can’t be real. 

“I didn’t mean for this to happen, I didn’t mean for any of this to happen.” A sniffle. “And I definitely didn’t mean to hurt you like this.”

Roman’s body starts to tingle. 

“It’s not your fault, Roman, I promise. You don’t have to blame yourself like this, or punish yourself like this.” They swallow heavily. “Or…or for what I did to you.”

He wouldn’t imagine this. He wouldn’t dare. 

“You can use my name if you want to, Roman. I promise.”

“J—“ He chokes. 

“Yes, sweetie, it’s okay.”

“J-Janus?”

“Yes, sweetie, it’s me, I’m right here, why don’t you shake off the last of the nightmare so we can take care of you?”

“You’re—you’re really here?”

A soft chuckle. “Come on up here and see for yourself.”

———

The desk drawer slides shut with all its papers, except a crumpled piece of paper that lies in the trash can.

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

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

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

[averykedavra]

Ever Slightly Out of Reach

So it’s been a hot second since I wrote anything, thanks to finals, and I wanted a quick warmup to get myself back in the groove. And that quick warmup may have turned out not-so-quick. That’s partly thanks to the great base prompt by @fanartfunart​, which I fell in love with. I hope I stayed true to the spirit of the AU, and I hope you all enjoy this rambling plotless ghost fluff.

(Title from Still Here by Digital Daggers. This fic is on Ao3 here!)

Pairings: platonic Creativitwins

Words: 8068

Warnings: death mentions, injury mentions, possession (but a very consensual and low-key kind), arguing, some gross-out humor, and thunderstorms

It was a dark and stormy afternoon, and Remus was preparing to be possessed.

“I still think this is a bad idea,” Roman said, floating in his favorite position above the foot of Remus’ bed. One of his legs dangled towards the floor. The other was nowhere to be found. “We should really do something else.”

“Don’t be a quitter,” Remus said. He combed his hair with his fingers. “It’s fun!”

“It’s not.”

“You like it,” Remus complained. “Last time, you squealed about getting to eat an apple.”

“Yeah, but--” Roman winced. “You feel all greasy. It’s like I’m stuck in a--really dirty oven mitt.”

“Hey!”

“You probably haven’t showered for days.” Roman flopped upside down and his mist tinted red. “Did you even wash your hands after lunch?”

Remus looked down at his hands. His nails still had dirt stuck under them in little crescent moons. Yesterday, he’d dug up weeds from the garden and brought them to show Roman. The mess was always part of the fun.

“I didn’t wash my hands,” Remus admitted, “but it’s no biggie--”

“Ew!” Roman interrupted, folding his arms until they blended together. “And I knew it! You never wash your hands! You don’t even do it after you pick your nose!”

Remus grinned and shoved his finger into his nose, just for fun.

“Ew!” Roman yelled louder. “Grow up!”

“I’m already nine,” Remus said triumphantly, poking the finger a bit further to see if he could feel his brains. “Nine and one whole quarter.”

Roman rolled his eyes. “I’m way older than you. Shut it, doodoo head.”

“You shut it!” Remus yanked his finger out of his nose and wiped it on his sash. Roman cringed. “You’re gonna go inside this doodoo head and you’re gonna like it.”

Roman huffed. But Remus knew he wasn’t really mad, ‘cause when Roman got real mad, the furniture wasn’t on the ground anymore.

“Come on,” Remus pleaded, flopping onto the carpet. He gave Roman his best give-me-candy-I’m-a-good-boy look. “You know you wanna. We’ll only do it for like six seconds and it’ll be hilarious.”

“It’s not funny,” Roman said.

“Prove it.” Remus popped back upright and kicked his bare feet in the air. “Possess me.”

“No.”

“Come on! You’re worse than Mom!” Remus rolled his eyes until the whites showed. “I’m gonna go back to school tomorrow and I wanna do this now! Before I’ve got homework and stuff. And if you practice, you’ll get really good, and we could go all sorts of places together!”

Roman shivered. “I don’t want to go anywhere in your gross head.”

“I’m awesome for possessing,” Remus said. He tried to imitate the commercials on TV and in-between videos about car explosions. “I’m cool, I’m smart, I have cool hair, I’ve had a whole entire boyfriend--”

“That was in kindergarten,” Roman said. “It doesn’t count.”

“It does too!”

“Does not!”

“And I’m awesome,” Remus said, forcing himself away from an argument. “And I have ten whole fingers and ten whole toes. You have, like, five. Tops.”

Roman counted his currently-visible fingers. “Seven.”

“See?” Remus pointed at him. “And--and! And I have a cool outfit. So I’m the best for possessing.”

Roman gave Remus a look. An I-don’t-want-to-be-mean look. Remus knew that look from teachers who didn’t like his drawings. And classmates who thought he was freaky. And his parents when they tried to tell him again that Roman wasn’t real, Remus was just making up an imaginary friend, and shouldn’t he try to go play with some kids his own age?

Remus knew, though. He knew he wasn’t making Roman up. Two years of being besties wasn’t made-up, and just because nobody else could see Roman didn’t mean Roman wasn’t there. Sometimes things stayed in houses without people noticing. Like stains. Or the slug Remus kept in a shoebox. If his parents didn’t know about the slug, it made sense that they might not know about Roman, either.

Typical grownups. Thought they knew everything.

Roman was nice, because he actually did know stuff. Not stuff like how TVs worked--Remus had tried to explain it, Roman just didn’t get it--but other stuff. Stuff he wouldn’t tell Remus sometimes.

“How’d you die?” Remus asked, instead of trying to remember what he’d just been talking about. He hadn’t asked yet today. Maybe this time it’d work.

“Quicksand,” Roman said.

Could be true. “How?”

“I fell into it.” Roman was definitely telling a story now. He got all dramatic whenever he made something up. “It was a sad, sad day.”

“Why’d you fall into quicksand?” Remus asked, sitting on the carpet and pulling at the threads. “Seems kinda stupid if you ask me.”

“Hey!” Roman said. “I didn’t fall, I was pushed.”

“You said you fell!”

“I said wrong!” Roman huffed, and red flickered around his eyes. “I got pushed because my uncle wanted the kingdom for himself. Quicksand is really cold, actually. All my bones got filled with sand one by one, and it tasted super gross.”

“Did your eye sockets get filled up too?” Remus asked.

Roman nodded. “And my ear sockets. And then I died.”

Remus decided that was a good enough story, and accepted it at face value. “That does sound real gross.”

“It was.” Roman snickered. “Almost as gross as being in your head.”

“Hey!” Remus jumped up. “Look, if you don’t like my head, you can go sit in the living room and talk to all the grownups. But we’ve done this before! You possessed me on accident--”

“I said I was sorry,” Roman mumbled.

“--and then you did it on purpose a couple times, and it was really cool, it was like--” Remus waved his hands and smashed them together. “Bam! You and me all in one brain! And I wanna do it again, so we can figure out how it works, and we can do it for longer!”

Roman raised an eyebrow until it disappeared. “Why?”

“So you can--” Remus gestured at him. “We could do stuff together!”

“We already do stuff together.”

“No, like--” Remus glanced out the window. He could just see the road in the distance. The bus stop was right across the street. He’d have to stand there tomorrow, even if it was still raining. “I know you never leave the house, but if you were me, we could--”

Roman’s eyes hardened. “No.”

Remus faltered. “I just thought--”

Roman immediately looked guilty. He shifted back and forth in midair, and for a few seconds, he almost disappeared altogether. Then he stabilized. Bright white, small, and still just Remus’ height--Roman never explained why they’d been growing together, and maybe he didn’t know. Or maybe it was just another thing Roman wouldn’t tell him.

For a best friend, Roman kept a lot of secrets.

But still. Maybe that was just how friends were. Remus didn’t really have a lot of experience.

“It’s okay,” Roman said to where his feet would probably be. “I just--fine. I’ll possess you, alright? If you really wanna. I’ll wear your weird outfit and everything. But you owe me a favor.”

Remus squealed and twirled around. He didn’t even care that Roman insulted his outfit. He didn’t care about the favor, either--Remus owed Roman like twenty favors by now, it was fine. Remus had time to pay him back later. Roman wasn’t exactly going anywhere.

“This is gonna be great!” Remus blurted out, gesturing for Roman to join him on the carpet. “Okay, you can do it whenever, and you can pop out whenever! But go ahead and try to do stuff while you’re me! So we can see how it works.”

Roman nodded a bit, floating just above the carpet. “So...now?”

“Now,” Remus said. “Unless you’re too chicken--I’m not a chicken!”

Roman’s voice, Remus’ mouth. Roman was gone from the carpet. Remus stood alone in his room.

Remus grinned. “Awesome.”

His grin twisted into an annoyed smirk, followed by an “If you say so.”

It really was awesome. Being possessed was like when you sat in one place for too long and your legs fell asleep. It tingled all over his skin. It made him kinda slow to move and slow to think, and it felt a bit like he was floating, just like Roman could. His head was dizzy and the room was deeper than it used to be, like Remus could see it from every angle, and the rain drummed louder and louder.

“This is so cool,” Remus whispered. It took a second for the words to work, even though Roman quickly let him talk. “You wanna try and move?”

“You can move,” Roman said back, seeming to retreat from Remus’ legs. Remus kicked his foot at the carpet. “I’m not good at walking anymore.”

“Practice makes perfect!” Remus concentrated and tried to shove Roman into the legs again. Go in there, go in there, come on--

“Don’t think so loud.” Roman huffed and rolled Remus’ eyes. “Fine. I’ll try to walk. Don’t grab control until I’m done, though, ‘cause you’ll make us both fall over.”

Remus mimed zipping his lips. The next second, he was pulled closer into himself and away from his skin. He felt his legs move. Roman walked with an awkward wobble--probably because he didn’t have legs most of the time--and a kind of glide. Remus tried very hard not to interrupt Roman. He sucked in his breath and watched patiently.

Roman had managed to walk them halfway across the room. He was picking up speed now, seeming to remember how it worked when gravity existed, and Remus felt his mouth twist in a smile. They walked past the window, Roman skimming fingers across the pane and leaving water on Remus’ hands. Around and around. Roman knew this place, Remus started to feel--he knew where the door was and how many steps it took to get there. He knew how to dash around corners, he knew where to kick the doors, he knew the creakiest floorboards. He’d just forgotten.

“You wanna go downstairs?” Remus asked, trying his hardest to keep his control from spreading to his legs. “We could get a snack.”

“Good idea!” Roman sounded excited. He always sounded excited. Why did he complain about possession stuff anyway? He clearly liked to be in Remus’ head, and he liked to be able to walk around, and he was good at it. Remus didn’t even have to worry, ‘cause Roman knew where to go--

And they both crashed into the wall.

Remus fell onto the floor. His knee banged something on the way down, and it started to hurt, especially when he grabbed it to see what was wrong.

“Ow!” Remus complained. The words hit no barrier. “Ow, fudge-popsicle-muffin-nugget, what the frick?”

“Sorry!” Roman was crumpled next to him, adjusting his sash. The stupid muffin probably left as soon as things started to hurt. “I didn’t mean to!”

“Why’d you lead us into the wall?” Remus inspected his knee. It wasn’t quite scream-for-Mom worthy--no blood--but maybe he’d put a bandaid on it, just in case. “That hurt, stupid.”

“There wasn’t a wall there!” Roman complained.

Remus pointed at the very obvious wall.

“I mean there didn’t use to be one.” Roman drifted upright. He did look sorry about it, which made Remus less annoyed. “That’s where the door used to be. I got mixed up.”

“It’s been at least two years.” Remus pulled himself to his feet. His knee still stung, but not that bad. “Get used to the new door, weirdo.”

“I never have to use it!” Roman floated halfway through the wall as an example. The wallpaper curled slightly, like he’d lit a fire next to it. “Not my fault that you guys put all the things in different places. I never know how to get anywhere anymore!”

Remus blew a raspberry at him. “Maybe look around you, weener. It’s your house, you gotta know it.”

Roman glared at the wall. “Doesn’t feel like my house.”

After a second, Remus clapped his hands. “Can’t have you walk around in my body if you’re gonna ride it off a cliff, so--guess we’re done?”

“We’re done,” Roman said, looking relieved. “I’m spared your terrible fashion sense.”

“Hey!” Remus grabbed his sash protectively. “I made this outfit myself and I love it and you can shut your hole.”

“Okay, okay.” Roman drifted over to the bed and stretched his arms. “What do we do now?”

Remus hummed, looking between Roman and the door. It was still raining. It was the last day of summer vacation--not the last last day, but tomorrow Remus was gonna get a new backpack, and that was fun but it didn’t have Roman. Roman never came shopping with him. So Remus got one day before Roman would be stuck in the house all alone.

He could try to get Roman to come along, but he didn’t wanna waste the afternoon.

Remus looked back at the door. Had it really been in a different place? Remus knew that all the furniture was different now, especially in the living room, but he didn’t know about the doors. He didn’t know much about the house at all. It was too big--good for hide and seek, bad for understanding. Sometimes Remus wished he had a house GPS.

Actually--

“I’ve got an idea,” Remus said. “Do you wanna make a map?”

“A map?” Roman asked. He already looked interested. “Like a treasure map?”

“No, a map of the house! From bottom to top!”

Roman tilted his head. “Why?”

“So we don’t get lost!” Remus hopped in place. “You can know the way around, and so can I! It’ll be fun, come on, come on come on come on--”

“That does sound like an adventure,” Roman said slowly.

“Yeah!” Remus nodded his head as fast as he could. “We can make a whole big map and we can both draw on it! It can be like a treasure map, except it’s just the whole house all the way through!”

Roman smiled. “We’ll need a lot of paper, right?”

“Woo!” Remus cheered. He always felt great when Roman liked his ideas. “Let’s go-go-go!”

“Paper,” Roman said as Remus threw open the door. “And pencils.”

“I bet Mom has some!” Remus waved his hands. “Come on, Ro, don’t waste time!”

“I’ve got all the time,” Roman teased, but he followed Remus into the hallway.

Remus was really good at getting places fast. Why wait and walk somewhere, if you could get to the cool place in half the time? He kicked off the edge of the carpet, slid and sped down the hallway, jumped past the other bedrooms, and barely paused at the staircase. Up onto the banister, a little push, and then down!

The rooms spun past him in a spiral, his feet flying, and he giggled wildly as he slipped towards the first floor. Whenever he tilted too hard in one direction, the wind pushed him back into place. Remus could go as fast as he liked, because Roman was there to keep him on course. He could never fall without Roman catching him.

When the banister tapered off in a swirl, Remus catapulted himself off the edge, rolling onto the carpet and springing back up. Roman grinned at him when he solidified enough to have a mouth. Remus didn’t wait for the rest of his face. He barreled across the tiles, skidded around the corner, and burst into the kitchen.

“Mom! Mom-Mom-Mom!” Remus darted over and tugged at her arm. “Mom!”

“What is it?” she asked. She’d been leaning on the counter, checking her phone. “What do you need, Remus?”

“Do you have paper?” Remus spread his hands wide. “Like, super big paper?”

“There should be some in the attic.” She frowned. “What are you up to?”

“Nothin’.” Remus glanced over to Roman, who was curiously poking at the window boxes. “We’re just gonna draw something, is all.”

“We--” Her mouth worked for a few seconds, like she had a lollipop stuck to her tongue. “Oh. Are you sure you don’t want to do something else for your last day of vacation? Go for a walk? It can’t be good for that brain of yours to be cooped up inside.”

Remus knocked on his skull. “It seems fine to me. And it’s raining out!”

“I think it’ll stop for a bit later,” Mom said unconvincingly. “I--I’m just not sure if you want to run around in the house all day. You spend too much time inside it already.”

“I do not.” Remus pouted. “I like it here!”

“I’m glad you do.” She drummed her fingers on the counter before sighing. “Maybe you’ll make some friends at school.”

“Don’t need any friends,” Remus said. “I’ve got a friend.”

“Right. Right.” Mom rubbed her eyes. “Like I said, the paper is in the attic. You might want to ask your father for help with it. And don’t get into any trouble, okay?”

“I won’t!”

“I know how much that’s worth.” She slipped her phone into her pocket and grabbed a spatula. “Holler if you need me.”

“I will!” Remus gestured to Roman, who reluctantly floated away from the window. “Come on, Ro, we haven’t got all day!”

Accompanied by a long sigh that melted into the wind, Remus and Roman left the kitchen.

“You’ll have to go back in, if you want to make a map,” Roman pointed out.

“I know what the kitchen looks like.” Remus scoffed. “Stove, oven, fridge, things I’m not allowed to touch. Easy-peasy.”

He hopped up the stairs two at a time. Roman drifted along the banister and peeked at the rooms below. Whenever he flipped upside down, his hair pooled around his face like a cloud of smoke. Remus idly batted at him. Roman felt like nothing. Nothing and warm.

“She said the stuff’s in the attic,” Remus said, hopping off the stairs and barreling down the hallway to the other stairs. “And that’s got the fun trapdoor, right?”

“We broke the trapdoor,” Roman said. “It’s just a hole now.”

“Not my fault it can’t handle paintballs.” Remus scrambled up the other stairs. “But Mom said that’s got the paper, so you and I can go get it.”

“She also said you have to ask your dad.”

“She’s stupid.”

“I can just get the paper.” Roman flickered and appeared farther up the stairs. “I’ll be right back.”

“Don’t--” Remus didn’t even manage to finish the sentence before Roman was gone. A bit of mist curled from the landing. It drifted to the window, slipped through the glass, and disappeared into the rain. So Roman’s mist could go outside, but Roman couldn’t? What kind of rules were there? Why did Roman never get to go where Remus could?

Remus shivered. It got cold easily in the house. Something about drafts. He felt very small on the staircase, alone, scuffing the red carpet with his toes.

Roman would be back soon. He always got back soon. Roman used to go all sorts of places without Remus, until Remus got tired of trying to find him every time he woke up. Ghosts were better than people, but ghosts were harder to find when they got lost. Remus used to worry that Roman would get really lost. So lost that Remus wouldn’t be able to see him anymore, and he’d forget that Roman was real. And he wouldn’t have any friends, and he’d just be alone in the cold stupid house.

Remus didn’t worry that anymore. At least, he thought he didn’t. Now, with the gray light shining through the windows, he felt ants in his intestines.

“Wait up!” Remus called, and ran after Roman.

He caught up right beneath the attic. Roman was right--it was still a hole. A square hole above the bookcase, with foldable stairs squeezed next to the books.

“Ro!” Remus yelled.

A thump or two, and a misty face reappeared. In the dark, Roman glowed, like glow-in-the-dark shoes. “What?”

“Can I come up?” Remus asked.

“I’m almost done!” Roman disappeared. Another few thumps shook the ceiling. “Catch!”

A pad of paper fell through the hole. Remus tried to catch it, failed, and grabbed it before Roman could notice.

“That’s all I could find.” Pencils and pens rained from the hole, followed by a smaller notebook. “Does it work?”

Remus frowned at the paper. It was small, only about the size of a poster. “Can we fit the whole house on here?”

“We could go room by room.” Roman drifted down to Remus, aimed wrong, and stuck his arm through Remus’ shoulder. Remus laughed and swatted the air. Roman adjusted himself. “Make one map for each room.”

“I guess.” That wouldn’t help with finding rooms, but this was about Roman knowing where the doors were. Remus didn’t want Roman to get lost while Remus was gone. “That works.”

“Fantastic!” Roman looked around. “Which room first?”

“Top to bottom?” Remus pointed at the ceiling. “Let’s start with the attic.”

It took several tries for Roman to lift Remus through the hole. Remus almost hit his head on the side, making Roman drop him out of panic, making Remus almost hit his head on the floor. Roman caught him, of course, but it took another minute for Remus to get Roman to try again. Finally, Remus squeezed through the hole. Floating felt like going up an elevator. If the elevator was wobbly, invisible, and complained a lot.

The attic was a nest of boxes. Every piece of cardboard was labeled, some in writing that Remus didn’t recognize. Old photos. Old jewelry. Old spiderwebs. The stuff in front, Remus knew. Holiday stuff, and extra silverware, and Mom’s favorite Passover sweater. Beyond that, though, was a sea of boxes that hadn’t been touched in years. Remus had explored a few of them, and he’d seen all kinds of old stuff, the kind that was probably worth a lot online. Maybe Mom and Dad should sell it. Roman might get upset, though--Roman didn’t like it when stuff got lost.

Remus cleared a space in the center of the attic and unfolded a piece of paper. He handed Roman a pencil. Roman dropped it by accident. Remus gave Roman another pencil.

“Okay, so we’re gonna draw a square like this.” Remus drew a square as neatly as he could. “And then we add the windows and the doors, and then all the stuff inside the room, and we can label it so we know what’s what!”

Roman nodded. “Can I add sparkles?”

“There aren’t any sparkles in the room.”

“There should be.”

“Add sparkles or whatever.” Remus grinned. “I’m gonna add poop. And lots of spooky ghosts with big pointy teeth.”

“Except I’m saving you from them,” Roman corrected, “since I’m the knight! They’re no match for me.”

“No, they’re my friends too!” Remus waved his hands. “They’re my army! I’ve got a ghost army and they give me cookies and think I’m cool.”

Roman pouted. “I already do that!”

“You’re a dork.”

“Am not!”

Remus snickered and started drawing some of the boxes. Roman doodled around the edges, crossed out some of Remus’ lines, and wrote labels in shaky handwriting. Remus made the room too small on the page, so there was lots of room for extra drawings around the edges. Remus drew three frogs, five rats, and seven ghosts with pointy teeth and blood in their eyeballs. And an octopus, but it didn’t look right.

When they’d managed to fill the whole paper, Remus checked the map against the room. All the boxes were there, plus the one small window at the other end, between slopes of wood. It was still raining. Remus couldn’t move without the floor creaking, and he could barely stand up all the way.

“Where next?” Remus asked, rolling up the map.

“Downstairs,” Roman said, “one room at a time.”

The first bedroom. Most of the bedrooms on the top floors were empty, and the dust made Roman look smudged. This bedroom had a small raggedy doll in one corner and a faded pink bed. When Remus kicked the carpet, it came apart at the edge. The windows overlooked the backyard, which sloped past the gardens and shed before hitting the woods with a crunch. They labeled the map ‘Bedroom’ and Roman drew flowers in the margins. One of the pencils rolled under the pink bed and Remus almost bumped his head trying to get it back.

The first bathroom. It didn’t have a sink anymore, and the toilet was still clogged from the time Remus tried to flush lasagna down it. The whole place smelled like lasagna. Maybe Remus should tell Dad about it, but that’d mean getting in trouble, so he plugged his nose and drew a map. Since there wasn’t much floor, and the tiles looked like barf, Remus put the map against the mirror. The mirror had a long crack in it that made his lines go skewed. He labeled it ‘Lasagna Bathroom.’ Roman drew stink waves coming from the toilet.

Another bedroom. The bed used to have a canopy, but the fabric was gone, leaving a little roof of wood. Remus tried to climb it. He almost got to the top until Roman yanked him back down. Party pooper. Old coats were in the closets, and the drawers were lined with lace. When Remus tried to open the window, the rust yelled. Remus labeled it ‘Canopy Bedroom’ and Roman told him that he spelled canopy wrong. Remus chucked a pen through Roman’s forehead.

Office. Probably where someone did their homework. Remus sat in the chair and kicked at the legs, and Roman ruffled the papers until they flew all over the desk. There wasn’t any ink, or any quill pens, which would have been cool. Remus liked this room because of the clock in the corner. It was broken. Roman said the hands showed the time as two-thirty. Remus wondered what happened at two-thirty. The desk made the map easy to draw on. ‘Clock Room.’ Doodles of dragons in the margins, because Roman got distracted.

They skidded down the stairs and hopped into Remus’ own bedroom. Remus had fought tooth and nail for a bedroom on the third floor, ‘cause he didn’t want Mom and Dad hearing when he brought cool stuff into the room. That map was easy to make. Then was the nursery next door, where babies were probably made, and then the other bathroom. This one didn’t smell like lasagna, which made it better, but the bathtub was yellow, which made it worse. The final room was stripped of furniture. It made for a quick map.

The maps were piling up now. Remus kept them in one tube of paper under his arm. Roman had managed to lose half their pencils. When they scrambled into Mom and Dad’s room, Remus began to poke at the closet before realizing Dad was already there. He dragged Roman back out and proceeded to make up the rest of the map. Roman said it would ruin the accuracy. Remus said that they didn’t need to go in that room anyway, and that if they wanted to finish the maps before dinner, they’d have to hurry.

“How much different is it?” Remus asked in the second bedroom, trying on an old bathrobe. It made him feel like a duke. Maybe he would cut it up and put it in his outfit later. “What’s new about the house?”

“The furniture you brought,” Roman said, drifting above the wardrobe with a pencil in hand. “And bits of the third floor have been changed, because of water damage, I think? They added electricity, and all the bathrooms used to be closets.”

“What? Really?” Remus didn’t know that. “Where were the bathrooms, then?”

“Outside!” Roman laughed at Remus’ face. “In the outhouses, obviously.”

“You pooped in the forest?”

“Not on the forest floor.”

“You pooped in forest toilets?”

“No!” Roman laughed harder. “We didn’t have toilets! We’d poop in a hole!”

“Ew!” Remus said gleefully. “Ugh, I wish I was alive back then, I wanna poop in a hole.”

“You really don’t,” Roman said.

Remus still drew poop-holes on the edge of the map. Roman stuck out his tongue and called him “Revolting.”

“Is it weird?” Remus asked as they mapped out the living room. Big green couch, several lamps, Dad’s recliner, pile of junk on the table. “To have no poop-holes? Or no doors?”

“I don’t always notice,” Roman said. “I can just walk through walls where the doors used to be, and I don’t need to poop. But--yeah, it’s strange.” He tugged at the hem of his shirt. Clouds came away in his fingers. “I suppose everything’s changed a lot since I--got eaten by an alligator.”

“Alligator?” Remus asked.

“It’s a painful tale.” Roman dramatically screwed up his face. “I can hardly bear to recall.”

“Oki-dokey artichoke-y,” Remus said. “And yeah, things have probably changed all over the place. I’m gonna go to fourth grade, but it’ll be nothing like your fourth grade. We’ll learn different things.”

“I suppose so.” Roman doodled small circles in the margins of the map, circles and circles, like a million tornadoes stuck together. “You’ll have to tell me what it’s like.”

“Or you could come and see?”

The circles grew closer together. Tornadoes circling the map. Remus wondered what a tornado would feel like. Didn’t they just pick stuff up and drop it again? Would it be like getting picked up by Roman--tingling and stomach-dropping, everything in limbo?

“It’s really not so bad,” Remus said, falling into his old job of convincing Roman to do stuff. Usually, it was easy. Roman liked having things to do, even illegal ones. “Sometimes the teachers give us candy for the right answer. If you poke an eraser with a pencil, it gets little gray holes.”

Roman looked about to make little gray holes in the paper. Remus tugged the map away from him before he could ruin it.

“I’m just saying,” Remus said. “You could possess me or whatever, or you could just float around and hang out. It’d be fun!”

“I can’t leave the house,” Roman said firmly.

“Who says you can’t?”

“Me.”

“Then say you can!”

“I’m not going to.” Roman tossed the pencil at the map. “You should erase the couch. It’s on the wrong side.”

Remus scribbled out the couch and put it in the right place, but now all the other bits of furniture were wrong. “Friends go to school with each other.”

“Human friends do.” Roman was flashing red all over now, and Remus didn’t know whether he was upset or angry or just in the mood for red. “Thought you liked ghost ones better.”

Remus was pretty sure that meant ‘I thought you liked me better.’

And he did. He liked Roman way better. But--there were perks about human friends. Parents didn’t make fun of them behind their backs. They were easier to shove when they were being jerks. And they didn’t go missing so easily. It was harder to lose a person, because they were all flesh and blood and heartbeat. Ghosts were easier to lose. They were just sky with eyes and a nose. Just air.

Playing hide-and-seek was fun, but only when it was a game they agreed on. Only when everyone knew the rules. Only when Remus could give up and Roman would float out of a closet with a pie-eating grin. Hide-and-seek wasn’t fun if someone just kept hiding. It wasn’t fun if someone had to get left behind.

Ghosts were better than people. So far, ghosts had been nicer, and cooler, and better at drawing. So far, ghosts had stuck around.

But ghosts couldn’t go to school. Ghosts couldn’t go shopping. Ghosts couldn’t eat potato chips or a latke or a really good cookie. Ghosts disappeared and Remus had to go find them. Ghosts needed maps or they’d get lost in their own house.

Remus liked Roman. That made things hard sometimes.

Circles and circles, a tornado all around the living room. They were almost done with the maps, unless they wanted to map out the yard as well, and it was raining too hard for that. Plus, Roman never left the house.

Remus stared at the maps. Maybe Roman was worried he’d get lost.

Maybe a map would help with that.

“We’ve just got a few rooms left,” Remus said. “And then we’ve got the shed, and then we’re done!”

“Great!” Roman looked happy at the change of topic. “Do we really need the shed, though? It’s not inside the house.”

“It’s still a building.” Remus gathered up the map and led the way to the dining room. “We can go outside and sketch the shed, just to get all the maps we need.”

Roman looked outside. “The weather’s bad. You’ll need your rain boots.”

“What’s the fun if you can’t splash in the puddles?” Remus set a new page of the map on the dining room table. Roman began to draw food around the edges. “And once we’ve gone to the shed and back, we could make this into a huge book, if we wanted. Color the pages and everything.”

Roman hummed, occupied with shading the edge of a blueberry. Remus checked the window. The rain actually seemed to be stopping. Definitely a good sign!

The dining room drawing was quick. After the entrance hall, the closet, the back room, and the kitchen--which they drew from memory, to avoid Mom--the maps were almost complete. A dozen pages of color and line, a true masterpiece, with several bad words written very small under the doodles. Remus tried to high-five Roman. For obvious reasons, the high-five did not work.

“Just the shed now!” Remus tucked the roll of maps under his arm and bounced to the back door. “Okay--raincoat, boots, umbrella? No room--”

“It isn’t raining so much,” Roman said. “Still, be careful, there could be lightning.”

“Nah, we’ll be okay, just in and out!” Remus tugged on his rain boots. They had little ducks on them. “And ghosts can’t get hit by lightning anyway.”

“You can.”

“I’m not a coward.” Remus pulled his raincoat over his shoulders. It felt like wax. When the back door opened, rain dripped from the doorway and dampened the mat. “Oh, those are some wicked puddles! Maybe I can go puddle-stomping later.”

“Don’t get the maps wet.” Roman motioned to the doorway. “Go ahead.”

Remus stepped through the doorway. A small path led past the boring plant garden, through the less-boring flower garden, and down the slopes of grass. The shed was nestled by the edge of the woods. It had a tin roof, and Remus could already hear the ping-ping of raindrops on it.

“Come on,” Remus said, wiping droplets from his hair. The rain was manageable enough. The grass squelched under his boots. “Ro?”

Roman looked confused. “I’m not coming.”

“You’re not?” Remus’ face fell. “Why not?”

“It’s outside of the house?” Roman sounded like he didn’t get it. “I don’t go outside the house.”

“It’s barely outside,” Remus said. “It’s, like, still in the yard.”

Roman moved away from the door.

“Come on.” Remus didn’t want to beg like a baby, but Roman needed to get out here, he needed to go outside. “I can’t do the map without you. You need to draw on it!”

“I can doodle when you get back!”

“No!” Remus yelled. “No, that’s not the right order!”

“Well, I’m not going!” Roman yelled back at him. “Leave me alone, Remus!”

Remus screwed up his face. “You’re being stupid! It’s just a stupid yard. I’ll be with you the whole fricking time. What’s the big deal?”

“I don’t leave the house!”

“Why can’t you?” Remus almost screamed. “If you want me to get it, actually tell me what you know! Stop being so vague and tell me stuff!”

Roman looked about to cry. Could ghosts cry? Did Remus want to find out? “I said, leave me alone!”

“Fine!” Remus turned on his heel. “Fine, I’ll do the rest of the stupid map on my own. I’ll go to school on my own and leave you here to sulk, just like you want. Have fun. See if I care.”

Roman might have said something. Remus decided not to hear it.

The yard was muddy. In a better mood, Remus would have smeared some mud over his face. Instead he just kicked at it. Kick, kick, kick, all the way past the stupid plants and the still-stupid flowers. All the way down the stupid grass to the stupid shed. Stupid, stupid, stupid.

It was cold outside. Remus felt cold in his rain coat, and wet, even though his skin was dry. The maps crinkled under his arm. The sky boiled with dark clouds. When he glanced back, Roman was still standing in the door, a flash of white and red against the coats and the darkness. Remus stuck his tongue out. Stupid ghost. He wished he couldn’t see Roman, like everyone else.

Remus didn’t waste time making the shed map look nice. No point, if Roman was never gonna use it. ‘Shed.’ No doodles. A wonky square with some sticks for the garden tools and some circles for the sacks of hay. It all looked stupid. It wasn’t a good map. Didn’t matter, though, ‘cause Roman never went anywhere.

The shed was cold and empty. It was dark, too, lit only by a lightbulb. The rain ping-ping-pinged at the roof. The wood shivered. Remus’ face felt very red and very hot. Count to ten, Mom always said when he got mad. One. Two. Three. Four. And he knew the rest.

Maybe he’d learn more numbers in fourth grade. Third grade had been up to a hundred or two hundred. Maybe they’d make it even further. There were infinite numbers, right? They’d never run out of numbers. They’d just run out of time.

Fourth grade was gonna be no fun if Roman wasn’t there.

Remus rolled up the map and stuck it under his arm. When he opened the shed door, the wind rustled the edges of the papers. His fingers felt cold and wet, like bits of popsicle. The house teetered on the hill. He could see all the windows, all the rooms they’d went to--the bedrooms, the bathroom with lasagna in the toilet, the stairs, the living room. Remus’ own bedroom. It all kind of made sense when he looked at it from the outside. It was like a tier cake. Room on top of room.

It looked like a haunted house, with the trees around it black and shadowy, waving in the wind. With birds flying across the wild grey sky. It was a haunted house. Roman was still there, a smudge of white, and Remus wondered why he got to see him. Why they stayed the same height and looked the same age. Why Roman had gotten stuck here in the first place, with no one to keep him company.

If Remus died, he’d want to see the world. He would never want to stay just where he’d started. What was the point of being a ghost if you didn’t do anything new?

Maybe he should ask Roman that. Maybe this time it’d work.

Remus climbed up the hill towards the house.

The wind picked up, blowing at his back. He adjusted the map and kept moving. It took all his strength to keep his boots from sticking in the mud, and all his self-control not to face-plant into the mud. The trees blew behind him, and when he looked back, he saw he’d left the shed light on. It glowed yellow next to the woods. It made him feel even colder.

Rain was starting to fall again. It was going to storm again. Of course it was. Remus was going to have a rainy, wet, no-good last day of summer. Stuck inside the house. It couldn’t be good for him.

It couldn’t be good for either of them.

But here they were.

“Hi,” was all that Roman said when Remus reached the doorway.

“Got the map.” Remus’ nose was starting to run. “It’s cold out there.”

“Close the door.” Roman poked curiously at the papers, avoiding Remus’ eyes. “Can I see it?”

Remus handed Roman the stack of maps. Roman leafed through them, pausing at the shed one, then skimmed the rest. The rain began to pick up outside. Water dripped from Remus’ boots onto the floor.

“Where’s the bedroom?” Roman asked.

“What?”

“I can’t find the map of our bedroom.” Roman looked confused. “Did you leave it in the house somewhere?”

Remus felt cold again. “I--I don’t think so.”

Roman looked past him. Remus turned around to see rain beginning to fall on the grass, and a long trampled walk back to the shed.

“I dropped it,” Remus realized. “Oh no, I dropped it--it’s gonna get all wet!”

“It’s okay,” Roman said, sounding like he didn’t know whether it actually was. “You know the way around your bedroom.”

“You bumped into the wall,” Remus said. He scanned the grass for any sign of the map. Nothing was there. It could have fallen into mud, or gotten crumpled, or blown away in the wind. “We need that! And I just lost it! I gotta get it back, Ro--”

“We’ll make another one.” Roman looked sympathetic. “It’s okay--”

“We don’t have time to make another one!” Humiliatingly, Remus felt his eyes burn. “‘Cause we’re eating dinner soon, and then I gotta go tomorrow for shopping, and then I’ve got school! And you gotta have the map by then, so you don’t get lost when I’m gone!”

Roman flickered red. “What?”

“I gotta get it.” Remus shoved the rest of the maps towards Roman. They fell through him and hit the floor. “If you’d been there, I wouldn’t have dropped them.”

Roman looked hurt. “You might have anyway.”

“Yeah, I might have anyway, shut your hole. No one cares.” Remus made a frustrated noise. “Fine, it’s all my fault and I got the map ruined. Shut up. I gotta go get it.”

Before Roman could argue, Remus stepped into the rain. It was coming down faster now. The map would probably be halfway ruined already. If he could find it, though, he’d be able to dry it. And Roman would know where the door was.

But he’d lost the map. It was lost somewhere in the backyard, stuck somewhere between grey skies and grey grass and grey rain. Remus couldn’t see it. He squinted and he cupped his eyes and he blinked the water from his eyelashes, but he couldn’t see it. There wasn’t a single flash of white.

A rumble of thunder in the distance.

“Get back inside,” Roman called. “This is dangerous.”

“I can’t find it!” Remus yelled back. He sounded panicked. Was he panicking? “I can’t find it, Ro, I need to find it--I don’t wanna leave it here--”

Another rumble of thunder. Remus was cold. He didn’t even want to walk deeper into the yard. The woods were dark and the shed was flickering and he felt frozen in his boots. His skin tingled. His breath froze.

And then the world deepened.

Two sides to everything. Like he’d grown extra eyes. It always felt like this--like a video with more pixels, or cooler colors, or binoculars attached. He could never pinpoint what he could see. He just knew it was--more than usual.

The world was a riot of color and darkness, swirling like a tornado, and Remus laughed.

“Thanks,” he said as he took a step forward.

Or tried to. “Don’t,” he hissed back at himself in Roman’s voice. “I am not going to try walking again. We’re just looking right now. Look around.”

Remus looked.

Hide-and-seek. If he was a map, where would he hide?

Color. Darkness and scribbles and circles going around, but that was all in the margins, that didn’t matter. Thunder rumbled. He didn’t jump. The rain seemed to go right through him.

White.

A piece of white, like a flag, stuck in the boring plant garden.

Remus whooped. Or maybe it was Roman who did. Who knew?

“Can I walk now?” he asked, and Roman groaned in response. Remus’ boots loosened. He ran through the rain and grabbed the map with one hand, swiping at it with a wet hand, until he realized that did no good. The colors were running. He tucked it into his raincoat, and the raincoat smeared across his hand as well, the paper leaking white and red.

Too much. Way too much. Maybe there’d been a reason that Roman didn’t want to do this. Everything was double, switching and colliding, holes opening and spinning dizzily in the air.

“It’s okay,” Roman said with Remus’ mouth. “Close your eyes, I’ll find our way back.”

Remus squeezed his eyes shut.

And Roman guided them back to the door.

When the rain stopped, so did the dizziness. Remus almost fell against the wall. Roman collapsed against the opposite one, running his hands through his hair and pulling at his sleeves. The door slammed shut. Maybe that was Roman, or maybe it was the wind that began to howl at the house. A bad storm. They’d been lucky to avoid it.

“Is the map okay?” Remus opened his eyes and peeled the paper away from his raincoat. “Oh frick, it’s all smeared.”

“It looks fine to me.” Roman drifted over and traced the edges. “All my doodles are dry, and I can see where everything is.”

Remus blinked the water out of his eyes. “Yeah. Yeah, so can I.”

“Good job,” Roman said, and Remus looked over at him. “It’s a nice part of a nice map.”

“Thanks,” Remus said awkwardly. People didn’t give him compliments very much. Maybe that was a ghost thing. “You did good with the art.”

Roman beamed at him. Red and white, a warm blanket around his shoulders.

“And--uh--” Remus motioned to the door. “You went--”

“I don’t like thunderstorms,” Roman said simply. “And I wanted to help you find it.”

Remus found himself smiling. “So you can go outside.”

“I can.”

“Why don’t you?”

Roman ruffled the edge of the map. It was already drying. “Because there aren’t good maps like this one, so I’m not sure if I could find my way back.”

“You made it back without a map today.” Remus kicked off his rain boots and shrugged off his coat. “Plus, if you went to school, I’d be there. I’d make sure you got back alright.”

Roman chewed his lip.

“It’d be okay,” Remus said. “You’d see me the whole time. And--you wouldn’t have to be alone in this house all year. You spend too much time in it already.”

Roman laughed a bit. “I don’t mind. You’re there.”

“I’m not gonna be.” Remus rubbed his arms, and the chill began to fade. “It’s the house or me, bro. And I’m pretty sure you like me better.”

Roman’s smile was smaller now, but still just as bright.

“I could make you a map,” Remus finally offered. “Of the way to school and back. Just in case?”

“I’d like that.” Roman paused. “I...it might be a while before I decide to go that far from the house. You might have to torment your teachers on your own.”

“Oh, I’m great at that.” Remus led Roman into the living room. He could already smell dinner. Mom waved, and he waved back, and Roman waved, too. Mom couldn’t see him, but Roman was polite like that. Maybe she’d even wave back at Roman one day, if they were lucky. “And--yeah, take your time. We’ve got a lot of it.”

“True.” Roman drifted along, a few feet above ground. He glowed like lightning, and red flickered in time with the thunder, impossible not to see. “I’ll find what works, okay?”

“Okay!” Remus spread the maps on the table. The lines glistened--a tornado of doodles and a house of scribbles. Maybe not much of a map. But it was fun to make, and helpful to find, and a good haunted map for a haunted house. “Are you gonna stick around to staple these together?”

“Of course,” Roman said, pencil already in hand. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“Good.” Remus smiled. “Neither am I.”

General taglist (ask to be included or removed!):

@the17thmeatball

@most-likely-fandom

@csi-baker-street-babes

@caffeinated-cryptid

@thefivecalls

@ollyollyoxinfree

@the-gay-is-back

@dramaticsnakes

@stoicpanther

@chaospersonified

@thatoneloudowl

@jungle321jungle

@mistythegenderqueermess

@k1ngtok1

@joylessnightsky

@elizabutgayer

@ohheavenlylord

@enby-ralsei

@remy-the-lemon-berry

@drarrymalecsolangelo

@riptide-123

@fander-fic-recs

@multi-fandoms-posts

Taglist from @the-taglist-repository:

@kieraelieson @i-am-not-a-dinner-roll @cottonwoolsocks @aceawkwardunicorn @somehow-i-got-an-account @10moonymhrivertam @evoodo123 @idont-freaking-know @enby-phoenix @a-fandom-trashdump

#sanders sides #remus sanders #roman sanders #ghost au #creativitwins #sanders sides fic #averywrites #yeahh this got really long again and i don't know how #i swear it was just going to be today's warmup fic #anyway here kid!side content i have homework and i must go

[armageddonouttahere]

Consolation

Title: Consolation

Summary: Takes place after “Putting Others First”, in which Roman sinks into his room and doesn’t leave for a while. Logan is the only one not preoccupied enough to come and lure him out, but in this he has to face emotions he’s been putting on the backburner for a long time.

Pairings: Romantic Logince, background platonic Moxiety

Warnings: Crying, self-doubt, insecurity, negative thinking

Rating: General Audiences

Genres: Fluff, Hurt/comfort (with a happy ending)

Word count: 2,500

A/N:  Here we are, at last! I had cranked out the last couple paragraphs of this fic just an hour ago, and I’m very excited. This had gone from a little Logince comfort drabble to a fic of 2,500 words (exactly, though I didn’t do that on purpose). I hope anyone who sees this enjoys it, and everyone who’s been waiting for it likes it even more, after all this suspense. Taglist will be at the end, under the cut.

________________________________________________________________

Logan was at a loss. The aftermath of Janus’ name reveal left all the sides shaken and fragile. Especially Roman. Logan wanted to help, he wanted to be able to tell Roman with certainty that he will be okay, that everything will be alright. Logan needed to be able to look Roman in the eyes and know that the words that came out of his mouth are truths.

But he can’t. So, Logan focused on the problems he could solve. He endeavoured to keep Thomas in working order, though on the inside he may be struggling. Virgil seemed to have taken a backseat, focused on watching over Patton. The most he’d seen of the anxious side was weekly updates and reports on Patton’s condition, how he was feeling, which Logan appreciated greatly. He needed all the positive data he could get.

As the logical side, Logan was somewhat attuned with the other sides’ reasoning and thought process. He needed this information to be accurate in order to know how Thomas works, how he functions. He knew how the other sides try to solve problems, how they understand things. When something or someone throws a wrench in the system it’s one of the few things that affected Logan physically.

In the aftermath after Roman sank out Logan had migraines for weeks. Roman’s flawed logic- his flawed perception of himself- is the one thing that has caused Logan the most physical pain. Roman’s view of himself shifted so drastically to the negative end that Logan felt… sorry? For him? 

He felt… he- he felt. Roman made him feel. What did he feel, exactly? Empathy? It was true that Roman’s emotional pain gave Logan physical pain, but the shared anguish went further than that. Logan knew what it’s like to feel wrong, to feel unheard. He related to Roman. He knew what he’s going through. 

Their opinions may differ, but Roman still needed consolation. Logan won’t further his belief that Janus is the villain, but Roman doesn’t need a scolding or a lecture, skewed though his viewpoint of Janus may be. He needed someone to listen to him, someone to comfort him.

Logan was aware that he’s no optimal candidate for the matter, not the first choice for consolation (nor the second). He does not possess the endless cuddles and comfort food of Patton, nor does he have the quiet understanding and listening ears of Virgil. His only way of reassuring the prince is through data, probabilities, and chances. Inadequate. Unsatisfactory. Definitely not enough.

Logan made a plan. A plan to make Roman feel better. A plan to get Roman to open his door, something he hadn’t done in two weeks. He gathered things he believed he would need in order to cheer Roman up: the Sherlock screenplay Roman had gifted him at Christmastime, Logan’s book of Shakespeare’s plays (Hamlet being pre-marked with a red sticky-note, in case Roman is feeling increasingly dramatic and macabre), his journal for note-taking, vocab cards, and his laptop- which has a playlist compilation full of ‘cute’ animal videos at the ready. All of this was needed for Logan to get up the courage to knock on Roman’s door. He felt as if he’s putting on an armour of sorts. Preparing himself for battle. 

It’s quite funny- the logical side needs bravery and courage to step outside his area of expertise and comfort the prince of the group.

May 17th, 2020. 1830 hours. Attempt #1: Prologue.

Roman has not left his corner of the mindscape for 16 days, 6 hours, and 28 minutes. Virgil has just given an update on Patton’s condition, which is thus: Patton’s “room” has slightly lessened in its intensity of upsetting emotions. The picture frames’ rate of showing unfavourable memories has decreased. Patton has not cried yet today. The Dark Sides, Remus and Janus, seem to be keeping on the “down-low”. Thomas has not had any intrusive dreams in many days. Virgil has been too preoccupied in keeping tabs on Patton to give him anxiety over much.  Thomas’ motivation has gone down. His restlessness has gone up. Roman’s unconscious contributions to Thomas’ everyday life have gone down significantly. Thomas has stopped daydreaming. He has stopped thinking about the future, what he has to do tomorrow. He is becoming forgetful and apathetic.  As the logical side, there is only so much I can do to keep Thomas in working order without help from the others, that much I can admit. I have put off trying to help Roman in case things only become worse, but the stakes are too high at this point. Action must be taken. I will record the results of this 1st attempt later.

Logan steeled himself, books tucked under his arm. He took a deep breath and knocked on the door. 

Around nine at night, he wrote down the results. Roman had been unresponsive to polite requests for entry, knocking, attempts to start a conversation, small-talk, even a referencing desire to build a snowman. He had not responded to propositions of reading from plays or poetry, or any of his favourite literature. In summary, it was almost like speaking to a “brick-wall” (almost, because the door to Roman’s room was made of mahogany).

“Really? Things must be bad,” was Virgil’s response as Logan recounted the events to him later that evening. It was late, almost time for Logan to get some shut-eye after organizing Thomas’ duties for tomorrow. Logan had entered the kitchen hoping that Thomas would get a good night’s sleep so he could have the highest level of productivity the next day, but judging by the Monster Energy drink resting in Virgil’s hands he supposed that was not the case.

“It is certainly concerning. I tried… if not everything, at least a substantial amount of options.”

“Yeah, and if Roman doesn’t answer to a Disney reference… I’m worried about him. Do you want... me to try?” he said, fidgeting. Logan realized he looked uncomfortable with the idea. Virgil must felt a little guilty for not showing up at all during the argument.

“No, I believe that more attempts should be made. To wear him down, in a way. I’m planning to try again tomorrow.”

“Same Bat Time, same Bat Place?”

“An interesting way of putting it, but that’s the idea.” Logan rubbed his eyes and began making a list of all his tasks once he returned to his room.

“Alright. I’m gonna go see Thomas.” Virgil said, getting ready to sink out.

“I assumed you were. And Virgil?”

He popped back up. “Yeah?”

“Please at least try to motivate him a bit, if through fear? I don’t want to deal with a gloomy, unproductive Thomas tomorrow.”

“You got it. I won’t screw him up too much. ‘Night, Lo.”

“Good-night, Virgil.” He was alone.

“Roman?” Logan knocked once more. “Roman, would you be open to company? I wish to speak with you.”

Nothing. He sighed, pushing his journal farther into his pants pocket. He decided to come with substantially less things this time around. To come as he is.

“I’m not entertaining visitors or guests at the present. Please come back another time, thank you,” came a weak and muffled response.

The sound of Roman’s voice gave Logan an ache in his heart which he didn’t want to name. He ignored it, for the moment.

“I just want to speak with you. You’ve been decidedly quiet these past few weeks. Your input, both in-person and in Thomas’ subconscious has dropped a considerable amount. As far as I am aware you have not made your presence known to me or any of the other sides in over two weeks.”

Silence was his response. Facts were getting Logan nowhere. Logan sighed, struggling with himself. Did he tell Roman what he thought in simple terms, what he was trying to say through his data? How could he bare himself to Roman’s listening ears, let himself be known?

“In all honesty, Roman, I’m- I’m…” He took a breath. “I’m worried about you.” He said this in a rush, letting it all out in one breath. Like a Band-aid, as Virgil had stated. The silence that still followed both frightened him and spurred him on.

“Roman, I- I haven’t spoken to you in weeks. I’m afraid of what will happen if you stay isolated for much longer. You’re a necessary part of Thomas’ life, for me to have things to maintain and keep in order. But more than that, more than duties of mine, I mis- I’m… finding your absence upsetting.”

Logan faintly realised his hands had begun to shake, and he clenched them.

“You… mean a lot to m- the Mindscape, to Patton, to Virgil… to everyone. No one means you harm. We need your input on discussions, and revel in your ideas and thoughts. We... miss you.”

Just gotta rip it off.

“I- I miss you, Roman.” Logan shut his eyes, forcing out the idea that he had become emotional enough to begin producing tears. Logic does not cry. “We bicker sometimes and both of us are wrong on occasion, but I would rather have arguments with you than nothing without.”

“Seeing your vibrance and excitement in brainstorming, your happiness in Disney movies and romances, watching your brilliance when creating plays and stories and… being you, I- I find myself… swept up- metaphorically, of course- in every emotion you give off when you’re around me. Seeing you productive and happy gives me more of a reason to work to the best of my ability.”

“It’s… it would be difficult for me to ever say these things in the hearing of the other sides, but… I miss the feelings you bring me when you are around. It is something greater than a job well done, Crofters, or puzzles and murder mysteries being solved.”

“The emotions I feel when you are around are something more than a simple pleasure in watching, in the aesthetical enjoyment of seeing things fall into place. When I’m with you, I feel… spurred into action.”

“Roman, I- I can’t… I can’t bear your absence any longer. I’m worried about you, but more than that, I’m worried that should you keep to yourself, I’ll never… I- I won’t…” Logan swept aside a few tears that had run down his face. His throat ached so much that he feared he wouldn’t be able to get any more words out. The words he spoke next came out in a hoarse whisper.

“Without you I’m afraid I’ll never feel anything again.”

A shuddered gasp tore itself from Logan’s throat as he took his first proper breath in a few minutes. Tears slicked their way down his face freely now. This was, Logan supposed, because such a long drought of emotion had rendered him virtually unable to control any that did overcome him.

“However,” Logan began once more after a few more minutes of silence, his voice quieter now. If anyone else had heard it, they might have said he sounded ashamed. “Should you wish to remain alone for… whatever period of time, I won’t stop you. Asking you to open your door for my sake is extremely selfish of me. I’m… I’m sorry, Roman.”

Logan took one more breath before turning around to leave. He had no idea what the effects of his speech would be, and that scared him. He was in an entirely new territory. This was an unprecedented event, with no similar experiences to compare it to. He had ‘boldly gone where no man had gone before’, so to say.

Logan was so wrapped in his own panic, for that is what it was, he almost missed the imperceptible click of Roman’s door opening as he walked away. Every muscle in Logan’s body tensed, and he prepared for angry words and scathing insults. Logan would face it, however. He turned around, and was met with a sight for some very sore eyes.

Roman held open his door an infinitesimal amount, peering through the crack. Through the small open space Logan could see the prince out of his usual outfit, the beautiful swath of his hair, and one very tearful eye. Logan opened his mouth without knowing what would come out, but the air was knocked out of him.

Roman flung the door open wide and his socked feet ate up the steps between them as he flung his arms around Logan, the force of his embrace almost tipping Logan over. An embarrassing ‘oof’ escaped him at the impact and his hands went up to grip the back of Roman’s jumper after only a second of hesitation.

Logan’s mind filled incredibly fast with all sorts of information: the scent of Roman’s hair, the warmth of his body, how Roman buried his head in Logan’s neck and the slight wetness that came from tears. The way Roman’s nose jutted into his neck, the almost imperceptible touch of Roman’s lips on his shirt collar. Logan’s body betrayed him in an audible catch of his breath as Roman clung to him harder.

“Roman, I-” Logan began in a faint whisper, but Roman only shushed him and tightened his grip, rocking them from side to side ever so slightly.

They stayed like that for Galileo knows how long when the prince peeled himself from Logan. Roman looked upon Logan with eyes so bright from unshed tears Logan would have believed there were stars in them.

“You never said anything. Not a word.”

Their conversation was as hushed as could be, the Mindscape and the world beyond it ceasing to exist and zooming in on the two of them, in this moment.

“I’m not good with words. When it comes to talking about feelings, I mean. You know this.”

“Don’t lie, Specs. That was one of the most eloquent and beautiful things I’ve ever heard.”

Logan scrambled to find a breath within him as Roman smiled up at him. For one of the few times in his life, he found himself with nothing to say.

“It was moving, and heartfelt-” Roman continued, taking Logan’s hand and stepping back, towards his room. He paused in his motions and looked at Logan once more.

“-and it was incredibly romantic.” He said softly.

“I’m- I’m glad.” came Logan’s strangled reply. Roman smiled at him again and led him into his room. There they would sit and talk for hours, and Logan would hold Roman to his chest. They would confess to things bothering them and their hopes, dreams, and fears for the future. It would grow late, and Logan would give in and begin to card his hands through Roman’s hair as the prince drifted off to sleep.

There, in the black-blue of the sky of Roman’s window, scattered with stars and the slanting rays of the moon, Logan would look down upon the prince’s sleeping head and realize, though he had first doubted his abilities, he had been enough. Enough for Roman and for himself. He had been enough.

________________________________________________________________

Taglist:

@count-woe-laf @psychedelicships

#franklin writes #sanders sides #thomas sanders #thomas sanders sanders sides #ts sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #patton sanders #virgil sanders #ts roman #ts logan #ts patton #ts virgil #logince #logince fanfiction #logan x roman #logic x princey #logic x prince #sanders sides fanfiction #ts sides fanfiction

[littleoddwriter]

Annoying | Roman Sionis x Male!Reader

"hi,,,, me again,,,, back,,,, with another request,,,,, 24 and 16,,,, with roman? like reader is talking about their hyper fixation (I don't mind what it is) while roman is trying to work on something and without thinking just snaps about trying to work and that reader needs to stop being so annoying, reader then withdraws into themselves because rsd is a bitchhhh and later roman is trying to act like he never did anything but reader is still :( and when roman asks why and reader is like "you called me annoying" roman just rolls his eyes and is like "you gotta stop taking things so seriously" which just further upsets reader (you can choose how to solve this, and stuff, how forgiveness is given and stuff idk) thanks ily bby" @theamazingspideymerc​ A/N: I hope this is to your liking. Ily2, my dear! 

summary; You talk about your current hyper fixation [Unus Annus, a (now in real time, but not in the fic) deleted YouTube channel], while Roman’s working, so he snaps at you. A small argument ensues, but you forgive and forget quickly.

notes: TW // Small fight/Fighting; RSD (Rejection Sensitive Dysphoria) + Abandonment Issues (due to past trauma). Male!Reader; Emotional Hurt/Comfort; Forgive and Forget; Actually communicating after a small fight; Hyper Fixations.

"And like it's gonna end soon and I'm really sad about it, right? But I'm also kinda happy because they'll have time for their own projects again and I can't imagine how stressful it must have been to put out a video every single day. Like, Mark and Ethan and Amy, Evan and all the editors were so busy every single day with it, but it was definitely worth it. And I mean, some of the videos were so fucking high quality and stuff. Most were like really long shit posts, though, and I loved it and I'm gonna miss it, but---"

"Fuck, y/n, could you stop being so fucking annoying for one second? I'm trying to actually get some work done here," Roman interrupted you harshly, piercing you with an angry glare.

Immediately your mouth clamped shut, your eyes filled with tears, your face and ears burned, and you lowered your head, as to not let him see your lower lip wobble.

"I'm sorry," you whispered.

Roman just turned back around and continued working. You were left sitting on the chaise longue, feeling exposed, hurt, guilty and ashamed. Curling in on yourself, you drew your legs up, so your knees were against your chest, as you wrapped your arms around them and lowered your head on them.

You just wanted to disappear.

This was it. It had to be. You annoyed Roman one too many times and now he would break up with you and tell you to fuck off, never wanting to see you again.

You tried very hard not to cry. You didn't want to disturb him any further by being loud while sobbing uncontrollably.

Though with the effort of holding it back, your entire body was quaking. You felt so uncomfortable. You just wanted to go, but you couldn't make yourself get up and go to the bathroom or bedroom, lest you would only annoy Roman by moving around.

A while later - you couldn't pinpoint how long it's been, but your entire body felt stiff and ached - Roman got up from the dining table and moved over to you, sitting down next to you.

"Come out of your shell, baby, hm? I'm done, now. If you like, we can eat then. All this fucking work's made me hungry," he said, tapping your shoulder and then squeezing one of your arms that was wrapped around your legs.

The lump in your throat felt so big, you couldn't make yourself talk, couldn't loosen it. Only a tiny whimper made it past your lips, making you cringe inwardly.

"Baby, come on. What is it, hm?" Roman asked, squeezing you again and then nudging you.

"You called me annoying." It was a hoarse whisper, hardly audible at all.

"Fuck. You've got to stop taking things so seriously all the time."

The grip your hands had on your legs tightened with what he said.

"It's not as easy as you make it out to be, Roman." Your voice broke throughout, it was so raw and hoarse from holding back those tears and not drinking anything for hours.

"Oh, come on. You know I wasn't serious. I was just busy and agitated by what I was working on. It didn't have shit to do with you. 'Kay?"

"That's not what it sounded like to me."

"Well, it's the fucking truth, though." Roman rolled his eyes and sighed.

You finally looked up at him, hurt written all over your face, your eyes shining with unshed tears.

"Look, I'm okay with you telling me that I need to shut it because you're working and I'm sorry that I haven't stopped talking sooner, okay? I just don't realise it sometimes. But you don't need to be such a fucking asshole about it."

Roman clenched his jaw and nodded jerkily.

"'Kay then," he rasped and got up, walking away from you, away from this conversation.

"Fuck," you muttered. "Roman, I'm sorry. Please!" Your voice broke even more as you raised it to still reach his ears, as he was almost in the hallway.

Roman halted and turned around, facing you again. His face was twisted with barely concealed hurt and anger.

"What?" He hissed.

"I'm sorry, I didn't think. I'm sorry. Please, come back. Can't we just talk this through? Please?"

He took a deep breath and sighed, his shoulders sagging with it, the anger leaving his face, but the hurt remained. Then he walked back over to you and sat down again.

"Fine. Let's fucking talk then."

"Thank you," you whispered.

He jerked his head in a resemblance of a nod.

"People always shut me up and told me I'm annoying, too much, a nuisance, and so on, when I would talk about my hyper fixations, you know? All my fucking life, everyone would make me feel bad and ashamed for it. Not like I had much control over it. Though I started bottling it up and shutting up, instead writing about it on the internet or whatever. So that I'd stop annoying everyone around me and possibly make them hate me."

You paused, swallowing thickly.

"Yet, surprisingly you listened, even though I know you couldn't give less of a fuck. You don't make me feel bad about this stuff, you just listen and sometimes say something about it or ask questions and it's nice, y'know? 'Cause no one's ever bothered to do that for me before. And now-"

A wry laugh left your lips. Tears welled up again. A lump developed in your throat.

"Now you called me annoying, just like everyone else. And I can't help but fear that you will leave me. That you fucking hate me, that I've been annoying you all this time and now it was just one time too many. Roman, I don't want you to leave me because I keep talking about things you don't care about. I don't want you to hate me because I'm fucking annoying."

You couldn't make eye contact with him throughout the whole speech, looking anywhere but at him, like you always did when you talked.

He inhaled sharply, which made you look at him. Tears shone in his eyes.

"Fuck. I didn't mean to- Fuck! You're not annoying, baby. You're not. I was really just tired and fucking done because of work, is all. Your talking was grating on my ears and making it fucking hard for me to focus. That's why I snapped. I didn't even think of what I was fucking saying. I'm not gonna fucking leave you for talking, baby. I'm not."

An ugly sounding sob finally tore itself from your throat and tears rolled down your eyes, as you lowered your legs after all this time. Roman wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close, your head resting against his chest. Your tears soaked his expensive cotton shirt, but he didn't seem to care. He rubbed your arms soothingly, as you trembled with the force of your emotions.

"Ssshhh, baby, sh sh sh," Roman shushed you gently, pressing kisses in your hair and nuzzling it. "I'm not leaving you, 'kay?"

"O-Okay," you whimpered in between snivels. "I'm sorry, though. I overreacted. I'm sorry."

"Don't. It's over now, isn't it? It doesn't fucking matter anymore, yeah?"

You nodded against his chest. It didn't matter, not now, not anymore. Perhaps only until the next time he would snap at you again, but until then it would stay in the past. 

#tw fighting #tw rsd #tw abandonment issues #x male reader #x male!reader #male reader #male reader insert #roman sionis #roman sionis x male reader #roman sionis x y/n #roman sionis x you #roman sionis fanfiction #ewan mcgregor #ewan mcgregor x male!reader #ewan mcgregor x reader #ewan mcgregor fanfiction #ewan mcgregor imagine

[yourneighborhooddisaster]

Ravenous

Touch Starved Patton! I haven’t actually written stuff like this before, and I guess it could be read shippy, but it can also be read completely platonic. I would say warnings, sympathetic janus and remus, but they’re blessings. 

Warnings: touch starvation, angst, hurt/comfort (kinda), not everybody really gets along but that’s okay

Comments and constructive criticism are appreciated!!! Reblogs are cherished!! Also I’m just really excited I was able to stick to a deadline!

Fic under the cut. Please ask to be tagged! I’d be honored. Also you are always able to be removed from the taglist if you read something you don’t like or is triggering!!! I won’t be offended!

@genderfluidmoma @emiisanxious (that’s what you meant right? if not sorry)

All of the sides had needs.

They weren’t people. They were fully aware that they were all a fraction of a person, and they all cared for Thomas very much. They didn’t envy being a person, especially through all the wild stuff that was going on in the world right now. Technically, the sides didn’t need to eat, or sleep, even though it was possible for them to do so, as long as it was imagination food or during the night when Thomas was already asleep. But they did have needs.

Everyone was fully aware of Roman’s needs. Stimuli. Some sort of creative fuel. Even watching a documentary with Logan and Thomas could help him if he was in a particularly bad block. That’s part of the reason he loved Disney so much, and Patton always made sure they had time to watch a cartoon before bed when Roman was feeling down.

Logan’s primary need was obvious, although he hated to admit that he needed things, insisting it was to help Thomas. It did help Thomas, but not as much as it helped Logan. Logan needed structure and rules. It made a lot of sense. So sometimes when Patton noticed Logan’s smiles becoming tight, or when Patton felt he might not be listening to him enough, he would grin and ask what was on the schedule for that day.

Virgil was under a lot of stress lately, and that was because, as much as a lot of social interaction could overwhelm him, Virgil needed positive interactions with Thomas’s friends. Patton suspected that the sides may also be in that category, but he didn’t quite know, so he didn’t want to assume. He would often bug Thomas to call or text Joan, knowing Virgil wasn’t the best at bringing his own issues up.

Janus was tricky. Patton’s first instinct would be that Janus needed Thomas to take care of himself, but they all needed that, and Janus hadn’t seemed to suffer more than the others when Thomas missed the callback. Patton didn’t know Janus too well, but he knew him enough to finally understand that he was a little like Logan. Janus needed to be listened to. So if Roman and Janus had fought and Janus was sulking, Patton would insist that Janus pick a movie to watch with him. (And if Roman slunk out to watch Hamilton with them, well, two birds with one stone, right?)

Remus should have been a difficult one, and Patton would never admit that he had known right away. But Remus was simple. Patton didn’t really understand Remus’s thought process, and he probably never would, at least not all the way. But Patton understood Roman’s, and he wasn’t oblivious, no matter how much he was portrayed that way. Remus needed attention. He needed time, he needed the sides, he needed Thomas, and most of all, he needed to talk. So when Patton was up for it (and even sometimes when he really wasn’t), he would invite Remus to bake with him, as it was something they both, surprisingly, enjoyed, and something they both, unsurprisingly, were terrible at.

All of the sides had needs.

Patton wished he didn’t.

His was simple. Predictable. Expected, even. But it was just… so embarrassing. Because Patton needed physical touch, and didn’t that sound clingy and awful. Of course he could try to play it off, and he did. He was just happy pappy Patton, soft cuddly Patton, just your Dad Patton trying to give you a hug, kiddo! He felt so guilty all the time. And it hurt even more now that he was trying not to repress his negative emotions, because when he did admit he was feeling sad, everyone treated him as if he was made of glass. He dreaded when they asked him if he wanted to be alone, because no, he absolutely did NOT. And he says yes anyway. He wants to be normal, so why wouldn’t he? He knew none of the other sides wanted - needed this. It was okay though. He could always get in at least a hug or a high five in a day.

Until now.

Patton slumped against his door. He hadn’t been touched all day. He was frighteningly cold, but he didn’t want to go get a blanket. He had lent all of his to Virgil after he had a panic attack, and he wasn’t going to ask for them back. He wasn’t heartless. 

“Thanks Pat, but… could I please be alone for a while?” The words rang in his ears, nearly deafening, though their speaker was quiet and polite. And Virgil was being polite, he had phrased it in the kindest way possible. It was just something wrong with Patton. He shook his head, tears finally rolling down his cheeks. He put on his hoodie to help with the cold, but it didn’t help with the hunger clawing right below his skin. Logan was reading, Roman was editing a video with Thomas, Remus would probably just make him feel worse. And he didn’t want Janus to sense all the lies he’d been telling. The most accessible of the sides was Logan, but Logan would hardly appreciate the interruption, especially as Patton wouldn’t be able to explain exactly why he was interrupting.

He was going to have a long night.

>><<

Patton hummed softly as he flipped some pancakes. He had managed not to burn them this time, even though the shapes were not really circles. Pancakes were easy. At least, he was better at making pancakes than anything else.

Logan’s better at it though. 

Patton shook away the thought. It made sense that Logan would be better at something as adult and precise as cooking. Baking was where Logan was in need of help. Measurements usually fluctuated more in baking. Though Patton wasn’t really good at that either. He was usually a disaster in the kitchen, probably because he represented Thomas’s inner child, which was why he wasn’t offended when Logan declined the offer of pancakes, instead going to the commons to help Thomas schedule the day. Well, maybe a little offended. But not much. Logan had been under stress lately too, as quarantine tended to blur all the days together. So Patton dug into his pancakes himself, covering up all potential mistakes by drowning it in cheap quality maple syrup.

“Ooh, did you make pancakes, Patty-cake?” Remus all but bounced into the room. Patton put on a wide beam and nodded. Remus was still wearing his pajama pants and was shirtless, though he was definitely a morning person, so it was likely he’d already been up for a few hours. “I want some!” Patton laughed at that, pointing at a plate right next to the stove.

“The hot ones are over there, and make sure to tell me if you want anymore. If we do end up making more though, you’re on egg duty.” Remus half pouted, even as he shoveled pancakes onto his plate.

“But I like it when you get the shells in. It makes it crunchy.” Patton huffed, pretending to be offended. “Oh come on Patton, you know I compli-meant it!” Patton stifled a giggle, though a little unsuccessfully.

“Oh, that was bad even for me…” Remus shrugged, utterly unashamed. A lock of hair fell into Patton’s face, and he instinctively brushed it away, not really noticing his sticky fingers making a shiny trail up his cheek.

But he noticed when his fingers were replaced by something else.

Patton froze, his face hotter than the pan on the stove. (He should turn that off, his brain registered dumbly, but he was too much in shock to care if the mindscape could burn down.) Remus was clearly satisfied, grossly swirling his sticky sweet spit in his mouth. Tears pricked at Patton’s eyes, and he knew he was being stupid. Remus was lewd and touchy with everyone. He wasn’t special, and Remus certainly didn’t need this like he did. Remus just loved to be loud and obnoxious and throw everyone off.

Then why’d it feel so intimate and wonderful?

Why would he want such a gross touch?

“What’s got you so nervous Mr. Moral Compass?” Remus was watching him with a self satisfied smirk. “Did I do something to upset you?” That should have been reassuring, that Remus was happy and just his normal self. If everyone was happy, Patton would be happy, because he had no reason to be sad. No reason at all…

Patton broke out into loud ugly sobs. Crumpling to the floor, he was vaguely aware of Remus panicking, and no, he really didn’t want to burden him, and it just became worse when more people ran into the room. He couldn’t hear anything over the rush of blood in his ears, and blurry tears distorted his vision and fogged up his glasses, which were slowly sliding off his nose. But then two hands gently grabbed his wrists, and they didn’t let go, and his wrists were burning but all he could think was more, more, more. And then a hand landed on his shoulder, but it was much too hesitant. Another hand over his heart, and that seemed to do it ever so slowly. The tears stopped and his breathing slowed.

But he may have preferred the rush of blood in his ears to the stressed silence. He made a move to wipe at his eyes only to find his hands still restrained. A blur of yellow - Janus - removed his glasses, cleaned them, and wiped the excess tears away before placing them gently back on his face. He was surrounded by faces, but only Logan and Virgil were touching him, and he felt so, so clingy, because this definitely wasn’t enough even though he should be grateful they were even still touching him. Thomas looked terrified. Patton dropped his head in shame and guilt.

“I’m-”

“Don’t,” Roman replied quickly, already knowing what Patton was about to say. “You have nothing to apologize for. My brother, on the other hand-” “No!” Remus was still looking panicked on the sidelines, and what Roman would’ve said next would have everything even worse. “It’s not his fault, he didn’t do anything.” Patton squirmed, his whole body on fire. Virgil made a move to retract his hand from Patton’s chest. And Patton. WHIMPERED, SO EMBARRASSINGLY LOUD. Virgil froze. “No, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to, of course you guys don’t have to touch me if you don’t want-”

“Patton.” Janus spoke calmly and slowly, as if he was trying to understand something. “So the problem is you want people to touch you, and you aren’t getting that attention you need, correct?” Patton nodded, biting his lip bloody so he wouldn’t make such a weak, embarrassing little noise again. All heads swiveled towards Janus, but he simply, albeit hesitantly, took off his gloves and cape and moved closer. Virgil and Roman glared defiantly at him, but one look from Patton and they stepped aside, and Logan gently released his hands, leaving Patton nearly about to cry again about the loss of contact. “I know this normally would be a little… inappropriate, considering our only newfound truce, but…” Janus spread his arms open wide. It was preposterous. Why would Patton hug Janus, even with their agreements? A ridiculous notion. (Now he was starting to sound like Logan.)

Patton jumped into the other’s arms.

He was suffocating, choking on air and new tears but he buried his head into the all encompassing warmth around him. Six arms squeezed him so tight and so close he felt like he was in a vacuum, but he didn’t mind at all. After a few minutes it started to get to be too much, but Patton didn’t want to ever let go at the same time, and he was just so confused. Janus seemed to sense this and he broke away. His hands were still holding Patton’s forearms.

“Hey, you’re not going to feel that bad ever again, okay? We won’t let that happen,” Janus murmured soothingly, and Patton shakily nodded because he didn’t even care if it was all a lie because it was so pretty and it felt so good. “Do you want to hear about what that was or would you rather just come watch a movie?”

“You know?” Janus nodded at Remus.

“Wait, how come you know and I don’t?” Logan was rather flustered and panicked looking. They all were, Patton realized.

“It’s touch starvation. Patton’s been lying to himself about it for a long time. He has a crucial need for physical touch.” Virgil inhaled sharply, and Roman glanced over Patton, but refused to quite meet his eyes. Logan gasped.

“I’m so sorry, Patton.” Patton blinked at the sudden and quick apology from Logan, who always struggled with admitting he was in the wrong. “I didn’t realize that by limiting my physical affection towards you I was harming you in any way. Can I… can I do anything to fix my behavior?” Patton smiled sadly.

“It’s okay Lo, I know you guys don’t really need it like I do. We’re sides, not people. You wouldn’t have assumed I was affected by things like that.”

“What - what did I do?” Remus asked tentatively. “I mean, I know I was being gross and all, but I touched you. I’m a very touchy person. So what happened to make you all snotty?” He immediately winced at his own wording, but Patton knew this was rather gentle for him.

“I just… I guess I couldn’t handle that you were only doing it to get a rise out of me… And it’s kinda started to burn when I get touched because I feel so cold the rest of the time.”

“Overstimulation,” Logan supplied helpfully. Patton nodded, and their conversation lapsed into silence. Then Thomas walked towards Patton, Janus helping him to his feet and guiding him into Thomas’s arms. He was exhausted but even the much looser two armed hug sent his heart and skin and mind spiraling into fireworks. They settled onto the couch.

“We got you, okay Pat? We’ll be more careful from now on.” 

And Virgil would just have to trust that Patton understood, because before he replied, Thomas and Patton had fallen fast asleep.

#ts sanders sides #sanders sides #thomas sanders #character!thomas #patton sanders #ts patton #patton centric #touch starvation #touch starved #angst #hurt/comfort #ts remus #remus sanders #logan sanders #ts logan #ts janus #janus sanders #virgil sanders #ts virgil #roman sanders #ts roman #please reblog #have a wonderful day #!!!

[twofootedbones]

Give Me Your Answer Do

Summary:  Something inside Logan's head was telling him that this wasn't a situation he wanted to be in anymore, whether it be Deceit's doing or his own brain, Logan selectively listens to the sounds. The other sides pound on the doors to bring the logical side back to the light, but the singing metal had become accustomed to the darkness.

Old fic, so please forgive any cannon errors! 

‘They’re not going to listen to you,’

The voice grew louder.

‘They’re never going to listen to you,’

It started to make sense, but after hearing the repeated words they would lose their edge.

‘You might be a light side, but you’ll never be one of them,’

Logan wasn’t an emotion. Logan was the brain, Logan was logical thinking, Logan was thinking.

It’s obvious how the other sides would have a sort of bias against him because of this, but it still managed to hurt when all the emotions get their own way simply because there are more of them. Logan was alone in his accounts, he wasn’t like all the others, and because of this, they deemed it okay to not have to treat him like the others. They hurled insults at him faster and more often than at each other. They were all ever so quick to shut anything and everything he had down. Yet, the sweet small amounts of praise he gets when he's finally seen equal at the end of a video was exhilarating. Frustrating, he meant frustrating. Just as the conflict outside raged on, the conflict inside continued.

‘Just duck out now,’

Logan watched as Roman got presumably louder as he yelled at Virgil, who in turn yelled back, but he couldn’t hear a thing. The voices were all gone, he listened to everyone underwater as his own thoughts started to drown him. Roman turned to him and started to yell as well, it looked like he expects an answer to some kind of question, too bad he didn't hear it.

‘What are they going to lose?’

They would literally lose the voice of reason, he had to stay-

Right?

Roman turned away from Logan, throwing his arms up in frustration. Patton starred worried at the unresponsive Logan, it didn't take long for his attention to be pulled back into the argument.

‘You’ll always be a part of Thomas, you don’t really have to be here,’

That was true. That was extremely true. Logan himself had said that before, while he’s not an emotion he will always be working and will always be there.

So he left.

Logan sunk out while everyone continued to argue and bicker.

You can bicker you can talk you can bicker bicker bicker, but with the subject at hand, none of the other’s knew the territory. The logical side wondered how long it would take them to notice he was gone.

As Logan rose up into his room, the first thing he did was turn off the lights. Listening to people who have no idea what their talking about and refuse to let you talk for forty-five minutes can really give you a migraine. The darkness was comforting for once; Logan had always thirsted for knowing what exactly is out there and shedding light on life, but the unknowingness of the darkness calmed him on this day. He craved to emulate that darkness one day. To become nothing, yet everything all at once.

Knock Knock Knock.

Sweet, Sweet disruptions. Surprisingly enough it didn’t take them too long.

“Logan?”

It was Patton, of course, it was Patton.

“Ya kinda ducked on us,”

‘Like I was giving much to the conversation anyway, what am I even supposed to do just stand there and be the groups Bozo Bop?'

“Are you there?”

‘No, go away’

Logan sat on the other side of the door. He was dead silent, not because he wanted to, but because he couldn’t speak. There is a limit that every person much reach. There was something he needed, a smell, a touch, a reassurance. The cold feeling of the crisp night air hitting one’s face after opening a window. The smell of the trees and the precipitation in the air as the night’s clouds soon became the morning’s dew drops. The touch of the wooden windows frames as you pushed the glass up to let the air in and out.

Logan reminded himself of these simple joys. He romanticized these moments, he lusted after the short breaks in between constantly being at work to keep Thomas happy and healthy and making sure that the other’s don’t murder each other in the process.

The current feeling hurt. Logan listened to the sounds of Patton’s footsteps only travel a small distance away before joining in on a whisper with two other voices. The room smelled musty, it gave an ancient feeling in the worst way possible. Although the room was a stark black, Logan could still tell what a mess the place was, considering that he tripped on his way over to the door.

The room was hot, it felt as if the place had no windows at all. There was no light, no air, and no pleasant smell. There was no stopping the sensory attacks space had on his migraine.

There was a sharp tug at his shirt.

The others were attempting to summon him.

This only made the Logical side laugh.

There were sixteen more tugs before they gave up, they were finishing the video without him, whether they liked it or not. The pounding continued, the steady beat of the war drums rung pain through his body.

They didn’t care.

Tomorrow he would have to get up and re-live the process.

Get up, get yelled at, work, work, work, work, work, pass out.

‘Just stop’

“What do you mean?” he asked the voices aloud.

‘Stop everything, make them beg,’

“Beg?”

‘For you to come back of course,’

This was all so confusing. He wasn’t going to become one of Deceit’s egoists just because he has a few rough days. That's all they are. Rough days. Right?

As morning came and Thomas had to start the day, Logan got to work. At his desk. The logical side would never leave his room. He owed Thomas just enough work to keep him alive, he never had to show up to the side’s meetings. They were all meaningless anyway.

Every day they pounded at his door, they would bang and scratch at all his defenses, trying everything they could to get into his room. The rhythm of their fists slowly started to match the drumming of his migraines.

Strangely enough, just like soundwaves, the pains started to pulse through Logan. Something was changing, he just couldn't tell what.

-

Logan would slowly sing to himself as the days drew out, it was the only song he knew.

"Daisy, Daisy,"

"Give me your answer do,"

Logan would repeat the song while he worked, ignoring how automated his voice started to sound.

"I'm half crazy, all for the love of youUu,"

His voice hissed as the vocal cords became sound bites.

"It wON'T be A sTYLISH MARRIAGE,"

Like the flip of a switch, he started to sound like that famous computer.

"I CAN'T AFFORD A CARRIAGE,"

The synthetic sound rang through the room, it was beautiful in its own way.

"BUT YOU'LL LOOK SWEET, UPON THE SEAT,"

The voice felt natural, as if this is was Logan really was. He sang to himself varying in volume as the synthetic voice shot out of him.

"OF A BICYCLE BUILT FOR TWO-,"

-

It took them a week before telling Thomas he could infiltrate the room with ease. Immediately the man rose up into the darkroom. There only light that pierced the room was the shine of the stars out the window and the dying bulb of the green desk lamp.

"Logan? Please tell me you're here,"

The pang of desperation that rang through Thomas's voice made the logical side vaguely guilty.

A small shuffle in the darkness and the side reveals himself through the lamplight. The audible gasp that followed only made the guilt gain specifications.

"Wh- what happened, Lo?"

The metal skeleton only avoided eye contact as Thomas drew closer.

"We're all so worried,"

' That's rich'

Logan backed away, back into the darkness. Just looking at Thomas's face hurt him.

Can I bring the other's in?"

"NO."

Thomas flinched as the rough sound of an IBM 704 echoed off the empty walls. That was the first time Logan had spoken to anyone since he first clocked out, and frankly, it terrified him.

"Logan please,"

"THEY ARE BETTER WITHOUT ME, I HAVE NO REASON TO PARTICIPATE IN THE EMOTION'S CONFLICTS," the voice wavered as he spoke, the sound bites seeming to crackle with every word.

"That's not true! Patton hasn't stopped crying since you left, Roman is blaming and destroying himself, and Virgil hasn't spoken in ages,"

"THEY DON'T CARE, THEY DON'T LISTEN TO ME, WHY DOES IT MATTER,"

Thomas grew desperate, trying to find the source of the soft computer somewhere in the darkness.

"Please let be bring them in,"

"NO."

Thomas hesitated, he wanted to respect the Logical side, but what he saw was something he couldn't just let brew. He needed to calm the logical side down.

"I can hear your singing,"

The comment surprised Logan, he slowly moved closer to the light.

"YOU CAN?"

As the metal frame poked itself into the light, Thomas knew he got him. The seemingly rusty plates did everything but shine in the light, even the dark screen that was once his face refused to reflect.

"Yes, Roman says that it actually sounded pretty nice," Thomas laughed, but it was short-lived, he couldn't hide the concern on his face for the metal man standing in front of him.

"Could you sing for me?"

The machine whirred as several fans started to go off, Thomas could only assume that meant he was embarrassed about it.

"You don't have to if you don't want to-"

It didn't take long for the logical machine in front of him to start playing notes. Thomas watched a simple roll of paper, silently go turn over and over in Logan's arm. He played a simple tone as the mechanics warmed up.

"THERE IS A FLOWER WITHIN MY HEART,"

The melody was surprisingly calming.

"DAISY, DAISY,"

Thomas listened, waving his arms behind his back to bring Patton into the room.

"PLANTED ONE DAY BY A GLANCING DART,"

Thomas held onto Patton, urging for him to be quiet.

"PLANTED BY DAISY BELL,"

Patton finally heard the voice he had been listening to from behind the door for a week now.

Logan's frame broke him, he was no longer metaphorical flesh and bone like the rest of the sides. He was open metal plating, wires fraying out here and there that were obviously self-inflicted.

"WHETHER SHE LOVES ME OR LOVES ME NOT,"

Parron followed suit, slowly bringing Virgil into the room, covering the anxious side's mouth as he came into the room.

"SOMETIMES IT'S HARD TO TELL,"

Virgil almost screamed at the sight before him, that was what Logan turned into. A broken down Macintosh for a face with a salesman's IBM 704 model for a chest. A metal tube connected the chest to a pair of rusted metal prosthetic legs.

"YET I AM LONGING TO SHARE THE LOT, A BEAUTIFUL DAISY BELL,"

The synthetic notes chirped, the computer screen flashing as the sounds made Logan happy.

"DAISY, DAISY,"

The metal body swayed back and forth lovingly.

"GIVE ME YOUR ANSWER DO-"

Virgil finished the chain as he brought Roman into the room, quickly shoving a hand over the fanciful side's mouth as he attempted to scream. Roman forced Virgil's hands off his mouth.

"IM HALF CRAZY, ALL FOR THE LOVE OF YOU,"

Before Roman even got a peep out, he immediately knew what he was looking at. "Oh my god, Logan-" Roman whispered watching the computer continue to play.

"IT WON'T BE A STYLISH MARRIAGE,"

Thomas joined in on the end of the chorus.

"But you'll look sweet, upon the seat,"

"OF A BICYCLE BUILT FOR TWO,"

"Of a bicycle built for two,"

The computer sputtered and staggered back as it continued, listening as Thomas continued to harmonize with the cracking sound bites.

"We will go tandem as man and wife,"

Patton stepped forward and joined in.

"Daisy, Daisy,"

"PEDDLING OUR WAY DOWN THE ROaD OF LiFE,"

The melody started to break as Logan noticed how many people were in the room.

"I and my Daisy Bell,"

Virgil sang. Patton wasn't the only one who listened to Logan's song.

"WHeN THE ROaDS DArk wE CAN BOTH desPISE,"

Electrical cracks rang through the darkness, illuminating the room for split seconds as the machine became the man.

"policemen and lamp as well,"

Roman stepped forward. He pushed past everyone, trying to find the android in the darkness. The others quieted down, only humming the tunes as they watched the prince move forward.

"There are bright lights is a dazzling eye,"

"OF beauTIFUL Daisy Bell,"

Scrapping metal screamed through the room as the music stopped.

A sobbing voice came through the darkness.

"D-Daisy, Da-Daisy,"

Roman's strong voice called out to the logical side.

"Give me your answer do,"

An arm reached out for the creative side, he gladly grabbed onto the arm and pulled the body that belonged to it forward, pulling it into a tight embrace. Roman continued the song as he felt tears start to soak through his shirt.

"I'm half crazy, all for the love of you,"

He squeezed the logical side tightly, refusing to let him disappear into the darkness again.

"It won't be a stylish marriage,"

Logan's knees faltered, causing both sides to sink to the group as Roman refused to let go.

"I can't afford a carriage,"

The other sides rushed to make the place more comfortable, Patton turned on the lights, only to reveal the disaster that was the room. Virgil grabbed Logan's bed comforter once me managed to find it.

Logan shook in Roman's arms, his sobs wracking his whole body.

"But you'll look sweet, upon the seat,"

Patton, Virgil, and Thomas rushed over to the pair on the floor, Virgil wrapping the comforter around the group the best he could.

"Of a bicycle built for two,"

Roman finished the chorus, his grip on the Logan refusing to loosen. The group sat in near silence, the only sounds running through the room being Logan's labored breathing and Roman's sweet whispered nothings. "I'm so sorry Lo," he apologized for the 20th time.

"I didn't mean it, I didn't mean anything I said,"

Logan stifles a chuckle. "I-I," he had to take a shaky breath, he was lucky if he managed to finish his sentence. "I did- didn't even h-hear what you s-said," he looked up at creative side with a weak smile. "M-my my migraine w-was too loud," he admitted.

"Please don't do that to me ever again," tears started to form in the corners of Roman's eyes. The saltwater threatened to pour over as he repeated the words, his voice silently cracking. "I care about you Logan, I'm sorry, please don't do that again, I didn't mean it, I didn't mean it," Roman continued to mumble clinging to Logan as if he was his only life source. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm-"

The logical side cupped the creative side's face, forcing him to look at him.

"R-Roman,"

Tears started to stream down the prince's face.

"It's okay,"

"I l-love you, Logan,"

"I k-know Ro-Roman"

#sanders sides #roman sanders #logan sanders #logince #patton sanders #virgil sanders #thomas sanders #ts logan #ts roman #ts patton #ts virgil #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #ts fanfic

[kanene-yaaay]

Reasons to Smile

Kanene's Notes: 

Reasons to smile:

Today wasn't a sunny day, and I wake up early, which was pretty cool so that way I had time to finally finish my fanfic and post it. Oh, I have internet, and this is also awesome, since I can show this fanfic and talk with you all because of it. And the fun thing about Sun is that is okay the fact that it wasn't showing up a lot today because you guys alone are enough to light up my day and warm my heart. So thank you for being here and being so strong in these tough times, my lollipop!

Warnings, fun facts, random things and stuff:

* Roman!Patton and Ler!Patton/Ler!Virgil/Ler!Roman (It can be seen as Romantic or Platonic LAMP/CALM). 

*Hmmm… This is a Tickle-Fanfic! If you don’t like this kind of stuff, please look for another blog, there are plenty of amazing art in this site!! ‘u’).

* Something around 4.500 words. -w-)b.

* Sorry for any spelling, pontuation and grammar mistakes! Any advice is very very welcome!

* I'm very happy I finally managed to finalize this fanfiction! I made an personal goal to make to each one of the Light Sides a tickle fic focused on them specifically (Virgil = Vulnerable; Logan = It started when... ; Patton = Patton has a secret) and that was the last one! I'm already starting another project which I hope to post soon, so donut worry! I will be opening my Ask Box for prompts, however I will make a post about it, soon! <3

* E a versão em português brasileiro! 

* Masterpost in case you wanna see my others works! <3

*Thankys for reading, my lollipops! Watch a fun video, read a good story, talk with the one that you love and drink water! Byeioo!~

                          [~*~]

Roman felt he was the least heroic hero from all the Mind Palace. It was horrible, like a sensation which seemed to start in his chest, in that deepest part of him where the soul is, and began to spread through all his body. First his throat, making it dry and with tons and tons of lost words never said, then it went to his stomach, leading it to weight as much as his legs, which didn’t felt have any strength left to stand or move in any direction; his eyes looked as dikes about to broke and flood everything in they way, and, in the end, he didn’t felt any cold, however this didn’t stopped him from drow himself in tons of comforters and teddy bears just like he currently was.

As he said before: Not even a drop of heroism.

 The soft, warm pile moved some time later as the prince emerged from it, not completely healed, but at least a little better after the nap he had. His hand moved with a flourish in the air, summoning Crofter’s, because he was addicted to this jelly after the musical video, and started to eat, feeling his face getting dirty with his own clumsy actions already inserted in his being.

 Jelly on his face, messy hair, tired, sleepy eyes… Yep, definitely these were the ‘royal days’ which any Fairy Tale ever utter. None chapter mentioning, explaining how were the thousands of days in the tower waiting, dreaming; not a page dedicated to the lonely afternoons wandering through the forest in seek of a beauty lady with skin pale as snow, or even some phrases about the months surrounded and arrested in himself that Maui had to struggle and neither three or four verses about all the sleepless nights watered in guilty that the Beast had gone through.

 Perhaps, it was because in the end…

 - Nobody cares that much. - The words sounded even tougher when left his lips and Roman felt himself squirm as if it had inflicted a physical blow. He shook his head, knowing very well the bottomless well he was burying himself into.

 He took a deep breath and opened the desk drawer picking up the old-looking folder, with a single draw of a feather outlined with glitter in its cape. He leaned on the bed’s headboard and opened the emergency folder for ‘heroic moments not so heroic of life’ as he liked to call it.

 There were all that intimate stories. The ones we do just for ourselves. The arts in which we are inserted in the world that we chose in the way we wish… Stories with a plot very much deeper that the one traced on papers and the chats and scenes which that had already been turned over, reinvented and transformed again and again and again in the mind of the creative aspect. Took a good sip of air and released slowly in the paper with doodles at the edges. The traces and dialogues started to float from them and dance in the wind, recreating, reorganizing and materializing themselves in the characters, places and contexts previously determined. His trace was light and clear, seeming to flow slightly and naturally with the wind as his room began to take a form of a magnificent forest.

 Roman observed the stories unfold before him, sporadically remembering the jokes he had written much longer ago and the trail each action leaded the character. He remembered also the ideas he had when wrote every single one of these words and how much happy he was just by the simple fact he was putting them on lines, without even realizing it Roman found himself with a small smile finding way to his features along with some salty drops pioneering trails down his cheeks and his hand centimeters away from the holograms, doomed to his destiny of always being capable to have any scenario, character and plot at his fingertips, but nothing more than that.

 His not so optimal thoughts were pulled out of him when laughter and teasing cut the place and almost automatically made a pleasant shivers ran across his body. Now a real smile took over his face without he even noticing it, his eyes attentive to every detail of the protagonist being pinned in the floor and attacked by his other two friends.

 Not a common attack, of course, because Roman could be anything but ‘common’. That, as the majority of the stories, which were in that folder, was a story developed around… tickling.

 So, nothing more fair than the principal character, being the hurried and naturally inattentive adventurer who he was (and because in the last day he had a problematic night) didn’t noticed that, when he went to land the ship he forgot to do the necessary procedures before it (he would need to question Logan about the functions from a ship’s painel control later) and because of that the automobile suffered severe damage by the time it hit the ground. Then, nothing more fair than, while the ship was being repaired, both of his best friends tickled him by the same amount of time (which, sure, was a lie, because they would stop immediately when noticed his ‘victim’ had researched his limit. However, the merely possibility of that happens and the teasing they directed towards him about this only made the entire situation more ticklish and playful.)

 (What? It was like said: the thing put on the paper is only the beginning of the whole iceberg behind the plot.)

 When a story was over, the words returned floating to the paper where they belonged, the scribbles being again fixed, and then Roman took another one and brought it to life, sometimes closing his eyes in order to concentrate even more on the laughter and try to visualize fingers dancing in his most ticklish spots.

 Just the thoughts about it leaded to ghost sensations ran across his entire spine. The papers fell with each story that ended and floated gracefully to the ground, because, later he would busy himself with the task of tidying up all that mess.

 Later.

 (~*~)  

He left his room, already having organized it and saved his little folder back to its original place (one story was missing, probably lost in some corner of his forest. He would care about this another day, though. He was tireeeeeed.). He was interrupted some quick times by Thomas seeking to discuss new goals and dreams they could perceive in the next moths and someday in the future, which made him to be late for the dinner and, consequently, his entire routine after meal, and it was for that reason which at ten at night the aspect of passion and creativity was washing his clothes for the next video, that may or may not would be in the morning. Something which made him almost pray to not rain in the next day so he wouldn’t need to take his vestments to dry in the forest in his room. 

 Since it was almost IMPOSSIBLE to find anything by own will and not literally tripping over them (Not that this ever happened before with his teddy bear which went there to take some sunlight after a particularly strong storm in the Mind Place. Pffff. Of course not. Prince doesn’t stumble, or have teddy bear neither!! Who told you that??)  in that indomitable world just as the creativity...

 Wait…

 Ah, that was why this world was his room and he is the aspect of creativity and… aaahh! Now the things made sense...

 My goshly gosh, now he was beginning to look for logic in the pieces of his routine. OK. Red alert. Abort Mission! Sad days made him WAY too philosophical and like Logan. Abort Mission!

 His foot leaded him to the living room, letting the washing machine do its job, his mind in a battle to decide which Disney to watch and which ones had duration just a bit longer than the washing process. His eyes landed in the television and his body froze for a piece of second.

 “Reasons to smile today”

 That's what the paper stuck to the device's screen said. It was a notebook’s common paper, the words scribbled a bit stronger than the necessary amount, however this wasn’t the cause of the guardian of dreams and passion stop in the way to his happiness.

 And yes what that phrase meant.

 It was a Logan’s idea (amaze!) which emerged in a particularly difficult period for Thomas.

 It was really simple, to be honest: every day all the sides got together, more specifically in the breakfast, and told at least one reason to smile and look forward that day. Usually it was Patton who listed more than half of the reasons in almost every meetings, them being memories, peoples or places, e that constantly managed to rip out a good smile and that warm, cozy feeling in their chest.

 But, when the moral aspect was feeling too much down for the activity, Roman always jumped with a good future, those where all their dreams were accomplished, Logan always brought some good memories and neutral facts and Virgil always came with someone. One supported the other and vice versa.

 Those were really tough moments, nevertheless also were the moments which consolidated them as a famILY.

 The royal member held de paper, the entire room bathed in a silence in which he could swear to amplificate his heartbeats. It was possible to notice there was something written in the back of it, so he turned it.

 “Your unwavering courage.”

 The lights went off and two hands digged in his sides, a scream getting stuck in his throat and his reflexes to punch what touched him was equally restrained by THAT specific sensation.

 - NAHAHAHAHAHA! – His laughter was quick to fill each piece of the silent before installed in the place, his own hands swinging from left to right without really managing to do something, completely different from the ones which attacked him, each single finger mixing between wriggling, kneading, trembling and giving an extra special attention to every inch it could research. He quivered, his legs weakening with the flow of laughter. - WHOHOHOHOHOHOOHOHOHOHOHOHO I-I-IS - A particularly mean poke in his lowest rib made his voice to fail, a new shade of blush painting his features. - ACK! - An amused snort could be heard from behind him, the tickling fingers found the new sound interesting and now spent their time slowly spidering up and down his ribs. Light, quick and crazy tickles dancing and spreading with each touch. - nahahahaHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!

 He knew this game, knew how to play it. He just needed to find out who was attacking him. Whilst his squirming, his hands tried to hold or touch anything from who was behind him. A hint. Any hint.

 Roman grabbed a wrist. It was uncovered, but there was fabric right behind it. Just one of them wore clothes long-sleeved - His thoughts seemed to run and vanish as fast as the squeaks and yelps between his hearty laughter - Just one of them wore vestments long-sleeved…

 The unknown wrist released itself from his hold, quickly deviating its attention to his upper ribs. His legs weakened and he fell in the ground, the tickling following all his moves and don’t stopping to attack him with light kneads and pinches, even with all his fighting.

 - Anahahahahahahahah-anahahahahaha!!! - His eyes closed in attempt to focus for the name slip already, but his laughter seemed to control all his breath and mind. -ANXIEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHETY! NAHAhahahaha!!

 The fingers slowed down, almost stopping, which allowed the aspirant of royalty finally take some deep quick, delightful breathes, his low and wobbly giggles intertwined with fast squeals being fed up by two index fingers that still poking and lightly teasing that exact spot that connect his armpits and ribs.

 - Thahahahahank Beyohohohohcé.

 - Tsc. - The purple aspect clicked his tongue and even though everything was bathed into darkness, Roman could perfectly imagine the expression in the other’s face. A sharp look. A marvelous smirk. Uh oh - We work with names here, Squeaky Princey.

 F U C-

 - Nononohohoho! wAHAHAHAHAHAIT- He even attempted to escape, sure, but was already giggling even before the hands came back to his sides in full speed. His laughter exploded from his lips, his legs and arms also dancing and struggling without any real effort and his eyes closing tightly.

 This jerk had told his name a few days ago and KNEW that none of them has get used to call him by that yet. He  k n e w.

 - YOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOUR STUHUHUHUHUUHUHUHP-NO! WHAHAHAHAHAHA-WHAHAHAHAHAIT!! - Snort. More high-pinched uncontrollable laughter. Squeal. More laughter. Did one of them belong to the emo side or did he imagined it? - LEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHET ME T-T-THIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHINK!!!

 Roman could feel the name in the tip of his tongue, somewhere between his loud and attention demanding crackles. Yes, right there, between his bright, mesmerizing smile and that warmth in his chest that seemed to spread through all across his face. He felt like would melt at any moment. Since when his smile could get this big?

 - VIRHIHIHIHIHIHIHIGIL!!! IT IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIS VIRGIHIHIHIHIHIHIHIL!!!

 - Ding ding ding. – The lights went on again and the royal aspect deposited his hands on the floor, his remain giggles flowing from his mouth as those butterflies and that cozy sensation kept flying in his stomach. - Strike.

 - Yohohohou will feel my rahahahahag- However, when he turned, blushed features and teary eyes, to see the fear in his enemy's face as he uttered his promise of vengeance, the prince only found nothing. A gigantic piece of void where the purple one should be standing. The sheet preserved itself in the ground, calm and plain, in the same position he had left it, as it mocked about all the mess that happened seconds ago.

 - Who are you looking at, subject? - But the sparkles in his eyes removed any heat of his words.

He went to the laundry and now headed to his room. Being completely honest, he didn't felt a single drop of will to sleep right now, the previous ‘attack’ continued as a mystery. Of course, they all were extremely close, but... tickles? It have been a long time since this artifice was used among them. It was something almost as old as that phrase or that game…

 Ok. Something was smelling really strange here.

 Maybe it was his new cologne which- No, wait, Roman! Focus, focus!

 Maybe it was…

 An adventure.

 And what kind of royalty he would be if he denied an adventure?

 Unsheathed his sword and kept his track to his room, confident and brave footsteps echoing in the hallway.

 A quick and muffled ‘thump’ could be heard from his room, which automatically activated all the instincts from the extra side, because of that, in a matter of few seconds the wooden object was already being thrown in the ground by a smiley Roman, who managed to support himself in the only feet that didn’t hurted, since apparently, knocking -ha!- a door down with one (or more, shhh) kick can have consequences (How he was supposed to know?).

 - BOW TO YOUR PRINCE AND MAY I DECIDE TO SPARE YOU! - His heroic pose was totally ignored, because the place was empty. His eyes analyzed each corner and each shadow, without really finding anything that give the slightest tip that any other life being beyond him even stepped there. 

 And then his gaze bumped in a shiny, polished black shoe, half completely hidden under his bed, making a danger joyful grin to spread in his features. All his shoes were Disney tematic and had their own day and outfit and any of them had this shade of black.

 (Maybe the Ursula’s one was the one that looked more like, but even with this in mind it was very distinguishable the difference between a dark-purple and a basic dark, please!)

 His footsteps leaded him quietly, a perfect contrast with all the shouting from pieces of time ago. He slowly bent down, prepared to grab the shoe and whoever was wearing it and…

 - HA! YOU THOUGHT YOU COULD TRICK M- Good point: The shoe came easily out. Bad point: it was because it was empty, which was the reason for his glorious victory statement being, and and very rudely by the way, interrupted. Roman indignantly scoffed; he refused to let the victory escape so easily through his fingers! He was the embodiment of dreams, persistence and hope and he. wouldn’t. give. up. so. easily!!

 Inflated by his own enthusiasm, the royal side knelt down, noticing only a paper on the floor in a place a little further under his bed. Just a little crawl was necessary to solve the problem, with a gleam of determination in his glare Roman firmly held the hint, excitedly bouncing his legs, the only part of his body that wasn’t covered by the furniture.

 "Your persistence and mind of an untamed nature."

 Before he could even process a bit more the meaning contained in the words, which apparently were a continuation from previous paper, the prince felt a strong arm embrace his ankles, his shoes being removed with a slowly calm that didn’t related with the adrenaline which exploded in himself and now across his arteries. His ‘mind of an untamed nature’ understanding exactly what was about to happen and finding zero ways to run away from his fate.

 - NO!!! Don’t you dare!! - One of his shoes fell with a muffled hit on the ground. - I-I… hehehe…! - Giggles began to took over his throat. His other shoe fell as well, a cold, excited shiver ran down his spine. - No!! - A finger lightly positioned itself in the exact center of his feet, all his nerves vibrated in expectation. - NononononNo!

 The finger started to scratched softly, its nail slided without a single bit of hurry across his feet in a move that went from the tip of his toes to his heel, just to add another finger in the movement and calmly repeat the pattern over and over and over and over… Until all his five stupid tickly fingers were tickling him.

 Roman tried to escape from the gap in his ankle, his eyes as tighten as his lips, refusing to brake his barrier.

 The one who ‘attacked’ changed his technique a few times, going from circular motions to quick scribbles, however, he hasn’t rewarded with more than some muffled squeaks and snorts from the other. The fingers moved away, giving Prince time enough to recover profusely his breath, almost don’t hearing the soft humming which filled the air for some little pieces of heartbeats.

 Roman already had the name in the tip of his tongue. The letter alone was enough of a clue, albeit… the possibility to finish with the playing caused a part of himself to quiver sadly. He didn’t wished to end with this moment… No… In truth…

 He didn’t wanted this feeling to end. A feeling that made him excited, electric, feeling like he could run fifty kilometers nonstop. This sentiment, which automatically produced a smile in his features and made he really believes, realizes that he was…

 Was loved.

 Perhaps it was this the reason that his mouth opened even before his brain processed his provocation, challenger tune that impregnated his next words:

 - Há! My dear enemy! Your faux fighting techniques would never be able to defeat a prince like mí! - The creativity side could feel the anticipation, the danger sign glowing in a bright red, and launched his final card: his cocky laughter (and extremely natural. Of course, he never trained hours and hour in a diversity of tunes and expressions in front of his mirror. Humpft. Of course not. That was one of princes’ natural gifts.) of victory.

 The same that was interrupted seconds after by the twenty nails that scratched the absurdly, extremely ticklish skin under his toes. Roman could swear that not even in his years of theater he managed to achieve this high tune.

 - Ohohohohoh! NohohohohohOHOHOHOhohohoho! – His head shook desperately, his legs bouncing and fight for their lives and freedom, his laughter, now breathless and full of half pleas of mercy, dancing through his room.

 A part of himself, one which wasn’t maddened with all this tickling, all the fingers that attacked merciless every little centimeter of his feet and his reverberated laughter, fought against his flight instincts, leading the whole scribbles, pokes and wriggles to find the minimum of resistance as possible (Not that the Tickler will ever know it, sure.)

 - PLEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEHEEE - A nail found a very particularly sensible spot right under his big toe releasing a series of snorts and yelps throughout his already uncontrollable, wobbly laughter. The tickling was unbearable, but in a very different, more lightly, way than the previous attack, and that was making him crazy. - PleasepleasepleAHAHAHAHAHAHAHSEHEHEHE!! NAHAHAHAhahahahHAHAHAHahahahahaHAHAHAHA!!

 Roman persisted for a few more seconds, his entire body, despite the tickles being focused in just one place, squirmed. He only allowed the name to slip for his tongue when his laughter and giggles, it depended from the spot and apparently his ‘enemy’ wasn’t satisfied in choose just one, started to steal his breath. His hand hit the cold floor of his room.

 - LOGAN!!! IHIHIHIHIHIHIHIT IS Lohohohhohohohogan!!

 The tickles were decreasing until finally stop, making the tingles in his soles not as intense as the that took over his ribs and sides before in the living room. Roman, in the exact moment, which felt the gap in his ankle to weaken, pulled his feet closer, rubbing them.

 - Undoubtedly correct. - It could be his tickled mind pranking him, but the dreamer could swear he heard a hint of amusement in the other’s voice. It didn’t took longer for the prince to catch the characteristic sound of sinking, which resulted him quickly attempting to get out of under the bed to reach the one with glasses, after all, their battle hadn’t  ended yet!!

 - Wait right there! Don’t you freaking dare to- And, once again, his sentence was interrupted. Now for a little snort that flied from his lips when the logic aspect ran softly his fingers at his feet, making the prince to retract in defense, giving him time enough to disappear with a smirk, half joyful and half cocky, adorning his face.

 Roman really tried to be angry, but how much heated was his features and how much euphoric he was in the moment proved this action to be a little more difficult, which definitely wouldn’t aplacate his future revenge, of course.

 Now, though, his only plan was to take a shower and then sleep. For that he forced his tired body to get up and head his bathroom, part smiling and part yawning. He opened his door and stretched, feeling his bones to crack and muscles to relax.

 And then his gaze found the paper stuck in the mirror above his sink, his instinct screaming in a red alert for knowing very well the next step in this game.

 - NO! - Maybe it was the tiredness, however, before he could turn around to try to stop the attack a pair of hands hit in his armpits, something that made his legs automatically to fail and every and any coherent thought be tossed away from his brain to a far far away. The laughter already falling in great waterfalls from his mouth.

 - PAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHADREHEHE! - His real laughter, that specific one that only appears when his most ticklish spot is being attacked with the most ruthless tickles, was loud, thunderous  and definitely an easy sound to be noticed from miles away, Roman almost could feel his blush to spread across his neck just imagining Logan and Virgil smiling as heard him reverberate around the house.  – NAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!!!

 - Ooooooh? - Patton’s playfully tune would be definitely impossible to hear if he wasn’t so close of his ears, his words leading to even more tickles and shivers in the other. - It seems that our little pretty prince here is ticklish? Coothie coothie coo! Oh, no! What are you gonna do? Huh? Huh? What our powerful, brave Prince Roman will do to escape from the Tickle Monster? Huh? Huh? Kitty Kitty Coo! My dear and ticklish prince!!

 - NOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHOHO TEASIHIHIHIHIHIHIIHIHING, PAHAHAHAHAHATTON!

 The creativity’s embodiment trashed back and forth, his head shaking, perhaps in attempts to remove all the red in his face, maybe trying to dislodge those fingers that poked, kneaded, drummed and tickled every available skin they could research. Tears began to accumulate in the corner of his eyes,

 And, even with all his effort, his conscient parte still struggled against his instincts to escape and making him to get as close to the moral aspect as possible, almost laying on him.

 - But how could I ever stop when knowing that this give me access to all these cute squeals? - A poke in the right place and Roman exemplified his words. Patton giggled. - Not mentioning this wonderful and melodious laugher, Roman! It is adorable!!! - The paternal side seemed as happy as he did, the royalty aspirant could feel their laughter in harmony, and maybe (maybe, only!) his heart had melted a little. Or it was just his tears falling from his eyes, his mind was a mess, okay? Don’t ask for details nor logic.

 His laughter, high pinch squeals, snorts and breathless giggles endured for some more minutes before Roman pushed himself forward, laughing a plea to stop, which the one who wears cardigan promptly answered. They leaned against the wall, feeling the cold of the concrete aplacate the heat of the remaining giggles.

 For some seconds both stayed in silence, calming down.

 - Whahahat did you write?

 - Huh? - Patton blinked a few times, leaving his thoughts and staring the other with a stunning smile.

 - In the paper. I couldn’t read… And I expected a honest attack from you, padre! Attacking enemies from behind is very immoral!

 - Hehehehe! - Genuine smile, hands up as an act of surrender. - Anything goes in love and war.

 - Really bold words for someone so close from my fingers! - Roman showed an evil grin, punctuating each one of his words with pokes in the other’s belly, making him squirming in a sea of quick giggles, pushing his hands.

 - You stop right there, mister! - Protested, his glare assuming a paternal glint. - Tomorrow we have a video to record and we need to sleep early! Thomas will need his creativity radiant and rested!

 The prince whined, hands moving in exaggerated gestures and laying dramatically on the floor, following with his eyes as a smiling Patton stood up and pulled the paper from the mirror.

 - Ah! I wrote: ‘Your golden heart!’, but I think I should have written about your stories! - Roman felt his blood freeze, a quick flashback from the morning passing before his eyes. The holograms, flying scenarios, sheets falling, Thomas calling him to do something, the lost paper… - They’re amazing and give really ncredible ideas.

 His face suddenly looked as if it had been set on fire and for the first time in a long time the prince found himself speechless while the one with the glasses deposited the paper in his hands, kissed his forehead, wishing ‘Good night~’ before getting out, humming softly and disappeared from the other’s vision.

 Roman buried his face in his hands, grunting in frustration, which wasn’t too much easy to do when a smile from ear to ear looked to be stuck in his features.

 Yes, they had gave him a plenty of reasons to smile.

 Maybe it was for that reason that most of the stories didn’t told about these days, these moments… Perhaps because they were from such great and strong heroism that it was almost impossible to be entirely put in just one plot.

 And it was for that reason that Roman, while sitting on his bed, pencil and paper in hands, wanted to be the first one to do so.

#Cheer up tickles #Lee!Roman #Ler!Logan #Ler!Virgil #Ler!Patton #Roman ticklish boi #Hug a Roman today #A little of angst but just for context #This is so long my gosh sdfghjk #xDDD #<3 #KaneneFic #KaneneArt #English #Sanders Sides Tickling #Ticklish!Roman #Reasons to smile #This tecnique really works and helps #<333 #Tickling #Tickles #Soft and rough tickles

[starstruck-xavier]

Signs

TW for suicide attempt but this is my first @badthingshappenbingo​ fic! so i’ll probably have the summary etc under the cut because it’s very angsty

ao3 || wattpad || bthb masterpost || fanfic masterpost || main masterpost

words: 1585 ships: platonic anxceit, extremely subtle queerplatonic moxiety fandom: sanders sides prompt: suicide attempt

summary: It seems like every time Virgil's planned out a final attempt, it's been foiled by other plans that distract him from his initial intentions. It's this time, however, that he finds out how.

X = finished, O = planned/wip i might take requests? i don’t know yet, i’ll definitely announce when i am hdghfdf stay safe out there everyone <3

~

The exhilaration that washes calmly over Virgil as he gazes at the pills in his hand could almost be interpreted as fear, but he tries to morph it into a type of excitement or relief. Of course, he’d much rather live a happy life that’s not muddled with mental health issues and he can feel his heart beating out of his chest as if his fight-or-flight reflexes are about to kick in and have him give up on this attempt entirely, but this is what he’s been planning for some time. He’s actually made it, he can’t just bail this time.

Each of the planned attempts he’s made in the past have always been unintentionally interrupted by his friends (or maybe they were intentional, a small voice in the back of his head suggests, but he highly doubts it). A few months ago he was on the rooftop when Logan came out too, saying he wanted to study the sky as it was a clear night, and he stayed with him as they both stargazed together. A while before that he ran into Patton on his way to the bridge downtown and they ended up getting coffee together before walking back to campus. Perhaps it was a year ago by now when he was going about trying to take apart a disposable shaving razor when the twins decided to invite him to see a movie and then play video games back at the dorm. It was a nice movie. Virgil remembers poking harmless fun at Roman for crying during the emotional parts, how Roman then returned the teasing when Virgil sneezed at the sudden sunlight upon exiting the cinema. He remembers the taste of salt and toffee dissolving in his mouth. The sound of the brothers arguing over a Smash tournament as he very easily beat them both in each game they played. The smell of Belgian chocolate at the quaint cafe that Patton took him to. The sight of Logan’s relaxed smile and the reflection of the stars in his glasses. The feeling of contentment every time someone made him forget about what he was about to do.

The feeling of blood trickling down his arm and bruises on his collarbones. The sight of his teary face in the mirror as he tries countless times to pull it together. The smell of his room during a depressive episode when he can’t even begin to try cleaning up. The sound of his muffled, hitched breaths at night when he suffers through panic attacks alone. The taste of nothing but chewing gum and metal.

Where there’s good, there’s more bad, and Virgil will never understand the optimism in some of his friends. They all have their passions, the things that will always make them smile, the will to push through the hard times like it’s as simple as swimming through water. But while they all swim expertly through clear water, Virgil struggles through a thick bog with no swimming abilities at all.

The idea of death has always frightened him, but perhaps it’s time to face that fear head on.

The knocking at the bathroom door doesn’t even phase him this time around. He’s aware that he’s crying but ignores his core impulses as he raises his hand to his parted lips, tastes the bitter capsules in his hand, about to swallow maybe six or seven of them. But then, suddenly, his movements falter and his body shudders all over, because of course his anxiety would stop him from doing this, and whoever’s on the other side of the door finally manages to unlock it from the outside and break in to see the sorry sight.

“Virgil!” The shout sounds all too familiar. Janus rushes over and immediately takes hold of the wrist connected to the hand that’s clamped over Virgil’s mouth; the fear on his friend’s face counters any coolness that he usually exhibits, looking shocked, almost guilty. “Virgil, spit out whatever’s in your mouth.”

How did he know? For a moment Virgil’s clueless, but then remembers just how perceptive and observant Janus secretly is. One of his courses is about psychology, he’d know if someone’s showing concerning signs. Brief memories of brightly coloured posters in doctors’ offices flash through his mind about signs that someone may be about to commit suicide: a sudden change in appearance (Virgil had told Roman he was thinking of growing out his hair, but really he was too nervous and unmotivated to visit the hairdressers), becoming withdrawn or detached (Patton gave Virgil a hug one time that he doesn’t quite remember feeling; he felt like he was watching his body from across the room), prolonged sadness or mood swings (he still feels guilty about reacting with annoyance when Logan pointed out that he seems a little more melancholy lately). Janus would know these things. Those posters are probably all over the psychology textbooks, he’s probably read that list of signs a hundred times.

Apparently he’s taking too long to react, because Janus taps him lightly on the cheek with his other hand. "Don’t act like I can’t tell what you’ve got in there.” He tugs at Virgil’s arm gently, his voice strict and serious sounding while his movements are delicate, not violent or made out of anger like Virgil had expected. "I’m not leaving you until I know you’re okay. Spit it into the sink.”

Fresh tears well up in his eyes as he removes his hand from his mouth and spits the pills into the porcelain bowl. His plans are all over. Again.

"That’s better.” Janus’ voice immediately softens, although still maintaining a serious and concerned tone as his eyes stay fixated on Virgil’s face. "Much better. Is there anything else you’ve done?”

Virgil shakes his head and inhales sharply as his brain finally catches up, he’s failed yet again but this time it’s different because he’s been caught, caught by the psychology student of all people, and now he’s going to tell everyone else - a string of breathy sobs steal the rest of the air from his lungs. "I’m sorry—“

"No, none of that. No apologising.” Removing his grip on Virgil’s wrist, Janus instead moves to hold his hand comfortingly. "Do you think you can talk to me about this? I'm not going to pressure you, but I will ensure that you talk to somebody, at least.”

"Don’t you— don’t you have a class soon?” Virgil uses his free hand to rub the tears from his face, but the action doesn’t really do much as the old tear tracks are quickly replaced with new ones. This is the first time in months that he’s let himself cry uncontrollably like this in front of someone else; his cheeks feel warm with embarrassment.

Janus notices this and raises one eyebrow, his expression appearing almost hurt. "You think I'm going to prioritise a class over a close friend of mine who just tried to kill himself? That I've found you trying to swallow the pill bottle and now I'm just going to leave you alone?” There’s a beat of silence as Janus examines Virgil’s face, seemingly finding something amongst the chapped lips and avoidant eyes that proves, perhaps, deep down, Virgil really did expect for him to leave for a class in which he could easily ask for notes from someone who’ll actually show up. His voice drops, almost to a whisper. "Really?”

Virgil’s throat feels scratchy and dry as his breath hitches again. "I…”

Memories start to flood his mind again, but these are different. The side glances that Janus would give him that Virgil passed off as nothing - people look at things and other people all the time, right? The hushed whispers to their other roommates, him telling Logan that tonight’s a great opportunity to stargaze, telling Patton that there’s a new cafe in town that sells amazing Belgian chocolate with its drinks, telling Roman and Remus that he thinks they’d love the new film coming to the local cinema. He probably also suggested to them, when Virgil wasn’t there, that they should take their reclusive friend too. That he deserves a sweet treat. That he’d love to know about the upcoming meteor shower.

And now that Virgil thinks about all those events, when plans were unintentionally interrupted by stargazing or platonic coffee dates or movies, he remembers the soft looks, the carefree laughs, the gentle touches. Remus really went out of his way to make sure Virgil had easy access to his favourite snacks during the film while Roman congratulated him with hugs when he won the Smash tournament. Patton paid for the entire coffee date despite Virgil’s protests and seemed to catch his eyes with a fond glance as he kissed him on the cheek playfully just to see him smile. Logan caught him looking down at the traffic and the streetlights below him and cupped Virgil’s face with his hand, lifting up his chin so he could see the breathtaking array of constellations that shone despite the light pollution of the ruthless city.

How would they have reacted if they didn’t distract him from his plans in time? If Janus wasn’t there to see the signs and alert them? Virgil pictures their faces, solemn, tear-stricken, in agony of losing a friend. And then he makes eye contact with the man in front of him again, the one who just saved his life, and amazingly, this isn’t even the first time.

"I’ll tell you about everything.”

#suicide #suicide tw #xavier's fanfiction #anxceit #platonic anxceit #moxiety #queerplatonic moxiety #virgil sanders #ts virgil #virgil angst #sanders sides angst #sanders sides #janus sanders #ts janus #patton sanders mentioned #ts patton mentioned #logan sanders mentioned #ts logan mentioned #roman sanders mentioned #ts roman mentioned #remus sanders mentioned #ts remus mentioned #food mention #tw food mention #blood mention #tw blood mention #bruises mention #tw bruises mention #sanders sides fanfiction #bad things happen bingo

[oh-theatre]

Objection!: Chapter 1

Chapter title: Defense Rests

A/n: This is it! It's finally here! Idk if this will be read or enjoyed but I finally did it, I'm writing the Lawyer Logicality fic that I wanted to and I really hope you enjoy PLEase Leave CommEnts!! (Also this took so long because I HAD SO MANY DECISIONS TO MAKE SO)

First | Previous | Next

words: 2663

summary: Logan Tolentino and Patton Hart are rival lawyers, Roman Reial is their fanciful Judge and Detective Virgil Tormine has constant run-ins with the pair. From balancing children to murder cases its a whole lot of chaos and romance!

pairings: Eventual logicality, eventual prinxiety, platonic demus

warnings: Killing mention, blood mention, murder mention, planes

Ao3 Link

“Falsehood” Logan declares firmly, he turns to the prosecutor. He had been waiting for a few boring minutes now to finally intervene. This case was cut and dry, there was no need to drag it on. “My client could not have been there on the night in question” He pauses making his way over to the other tables and slamming down a file. The prosecutor eyes him before cautiously looking through the files. And there it was, the man's face falls as he shuffles through. Logan lives for that look, the look of absolute defeat. He turns to face the jury “Due to photographic AND video evidence both previously submitted to the court that my client was home-” He glances over his shoulder back at the prosecutor “All night, the defense rests” He states confidently. He makes his way back to a very starry-eyed client and a very smug look falls on his face. He feels the shock and impressed mark he's made on the jury. With that he leans back in his chair, propping his feet up on the table, he's pushing it but he knows the judge. He glances at the prosecutor and silently bathes in the disappointment that riddles the mans face. 

Check

And 

Mate

~~~

“Nicely done Logan” A regal voice booms from behind. “Although, I could have done without the feet on my tables” The judge warns. Logan lets out a small chuckle.

“Ah, but what's the fun in that Roman?” Logan asks the men make their way down the hall to ‘check out’ for the day. “I can not believe I got stuck with that excuse for a case, I mean really photographic and video evidence? The man was innocent before the case even begun” Logan sighs, He was in a bit of a dry spell lately with cases.

“What? Did you want a murder?” Roman chimes “Someone murdered in their own home but ah! Surprise they are still alive... “ And so Roman went on his tangents creating a whole story which Logan simply tuned out. Inside the courtroom, Roman was a fair and grueling judge, outside, however? He was a royal pain, Logan scanned his surroundings while the judge continued to talk, the courthouse was unusually quiet today. Typically Logan liked the quiet, except in the courthouse. The courthouse was supposed to be filled with guilty men pleading for their lives, there was supposed to be angry cops running around getting ready for the witness stands or being passive-aggressive towards the lawyers. Judges should be reviewing cases while eating lunch, random fights being broken out. This was a courthouse, not a library. 

“...Is that the case you want Logan?” Roman asks interrupting Logan's thoughts. The be-speckled man turns back to the judge tilting his head slightly. 

“Excuse me? Pardon me Roman but I wasn't really paying attention” Logan admits, the judge sighs defeated.

“You never are…” He mumbles. Logan shrugs, he studies the room one more time.

“Does it not seem odd?” He begins, Roman furrows his brow, Logan isn't one to not finish a thought. “The silence, the calm sense wafting through. Where's the chaos?” Roman recognizes the aggravation in the lawyer's voice. “I do not understand” Logan pushes his glasses up.

“I dunno what to tell you Logan” Roman pats the lawyer on the back “I have to go, however, I have some evidence I need to look over for a case tomorrow, oh and it's a good one” Roman teases, this gets Logan's attention, his eyes begging for more. “Ah, that gets your attention doesn't it?” Roman smiles, he gestures for Logan to follow him as they walk towards the parking lot. Logan follows reluctantly simply wanting to know more about the case. 

“Goodbye Judge Reial, goodbye Mr.Tolentino” The receptionist calls waving both men goodbye. Roman blows a friendly kiss, Logan simply waves rolling his eyes at the judge's antics.

“The case, Roman” Logan whines as they walk further into the lot. Roman lets out a laugh.

“Alright alright, Detective Tormine…” The judge pauses, Logan notices a crimson color rising in his face. He notices Logan staring and clears his throat continuing on “Brought me this case, it's an interesting one. A string of murders, absolutely no connection between the victims or the manner that they were killed. The only thing connecting them is a letter-” 

“A letter? What does that mean” Logan ponders, Roman shoots him a glare

“A letter of the alphabet, written in the victim's blood. So for weeks, nobody could find any evidence leading to the killer or any suspects until suddenly, a man confesses.” Roman flashes a smile hearing Logan’s silent gasp of interest.  “Odd right? Now obviously everyone's suspicious because this man has a perfect record. He might just be an outstanding citizen, but then all of a sudden the cops are re-evaluating the evidence and the crime scenes and boom! Traces of this man are everywhere.” Roman exclaims, he doesn’t mean to sound so excited. Logan shares his excitement, what a case. “Anyway, should have been cut and dry but the captain disagreed and decided it was going to court, my court to be precise-”

“Well, whos the prosecutor, the defense… what's going to happen?” Logan interrupts again, Roman was really getting sick of this.

“The prosecutor” Roman seethes “-hasn't been named yet, however, the defense is... “ Roman holds up a finger as he fumbles for his case file, shuffling through the papers quickly “Ah, here it is… the defense is... Oh, interesting..” Roman murmurs, Logan was getting impatient.

“Roman? The defense?” 

“Oh yes, its Patton Hart” Now it was Logan's turn to blush “Seems he's back in town after..” Romans eyes grow wide “Winning the ‘Cruiser Murder’ case?! Wow, we all thought that was hopeless, oh I'm excited to see him again…” Roman trails off reminiscing about the cheerful lawyer. Logan once again tunes him out, enveloping himself into his own thoughts. Patton Hart of all people? Logan pictured the cheerful man's face after their last encounter, the blush grew stronger. 

~~~

“Nicely done Lo!” A cheerful voice calls through the hall, Logan huffs annoyed and turns to find Patton skipping towards him. He glares subtly at the man who simply ignores it. “Better luck next time though, you're really good but you have to learn how to read your clients emotions” Logan curses at how genuine the man sounds. 

“Thank you Mr.Hart” Logan seethes annoyed, he really hated losing. “Next time, I'll make sure to sit down with my client and have a real heart to heart” He says sarcastically. Patton lets out an adoring giggle, Logan feels his defenses crack. 

“That's the spirit, Lo! And that was also definitely a pun!” Patton notices happily. Logan groans, ‘Heart to Heart’ damnit.

“I assure, never will I ever-”

“Make an intentional pun, yes I know” Patton interjects sighing, their eyes meet but are quickly torn apart at a small chime. Patton looks down at his phone and smiles “Ah seems I must get going, I have to catch a flight but I'll see you soon Lo!” Patton chimes, he begins to walk away to which Logan quickly grasps his arm.

“A flight? May I ask where you are going? And for how long?” Logan inquires, Patton slithers his arm out of Logan's grasp.

“I've been requested for a case up-” He snickers “In Canada, so I must get going. I'm not sure how long I'll be gone” Logan's face falls a tad bit, Patton notices “But that just means you will have loads of time to catch up!” He jokes, Logan, rolls his eyes. 

“Well erm… good luck Patton” He says finally, Patton nods gratefully and makes his way out the door disappearing into the crowds of people. 

~~~

“...Anyway, I will be excited to see him” Roman finishes, Logan turns to the judge quickly dismissing the thoughts of their last encounter months ago and nods. “I should get going, see you tomorrow Logan” Logan nods and watches as Roman gets into his car and leaves. Logan is left standing, stuck on this impossible road, one eager thought occupies his mind.

I must get on that case.

~~~

“Remus, Valerie will you two please sit still?” Patton begged as he tried to buckle his chaotic twins into their plane seats. The twins stopped fidgeting for a moment allowing Patton to secure their buckles. He quickly apologizes to the people behind him in the aisle before taking his seat in the middle of the two. He learned his mistake on the flight there not to let the twins sit next to each other. He took a deep breath having finally settled in. 

“Papa why does Remus get to sit next to the window” Valerie tugs on her father's cardigan. Patton looks at his daughter lovingly stroking her fluffy hair. 

“Val, you got the window on the flight here, so Remus gets it now” Patton explained, his daughter pouts defeated. Patton lets out a little laugh before feeling a tug on his other side. “Yes, Remus?” Patton turns to his other kid. 

“Dada, can I have my scooby snacks?” Remus asks spouting his best puppy eyes. Patton can't help but laugh, Remus was unfortunately not as good at it as his brother, although his crazy eyes were something. He ruffled his son's hair before pulling out two packets of snacks and handing one to Remus and another to Valerie. The kids giggle excited and dive in. Patton takes this moment to set up their entertainment and helping them open up their cartoons. Valerie picks Steven Universe and Patton hears her humming the theme song. Remus decides he wants to watch Chowder and Patton watches as he tries to belt the theme song disturbing some tired passengers nearby. He shoots the other passengers a glare and happily encourages his kids. Slowly the plane commotion calms down and they take off. Patton clutches nervously to the side practicing his breathing, 4 seconds in, hold, and out, just like he told you. He felt two small hands being placed over his. He looks down and smiles at his two kids giving him little smiles of support of their own. He kisses them both quickly on the forehead before they turn their attention back to their shows. 

~~~

“Alright, kiddos let's go get our bags so we can head home” Patton explains leading his two tired children towards baggage claim. Remus stops abruptly and lets out a little groan, Patton turns to the little one and kneels in front of him. 

“What's wrong buddy?”  Patton asks examining his son's face. Remus shuffles his feet playing around with his little suitcase. “Remus…” Patton pried.

“I've tired Dada, my feet hurt” Remus whines softly hiding behind his suitcase. Patton chuckles lightly before turning around. Remus gasps excited and quickly crawls onto his father's back. “Piggyback!” He shouts gleefully, Patton shushes cheerfully laughing. Patton looks over to Valerie expectantly. He silently asks if she wants a piggyback ride as well. She shakes her head politely and takes Patton's hand once more, following alongside him happily. The trio continues along their way. They walk along the unusually quiet aisles of the airport. It's late and Patton is worried about who might be lurking in the darkness of this travel center. Finally reaching the baggage claim and collecting their things the trio make their way to the exit to call a taxi, Patton is pleasantly surprised at a familiar face. 

“Roman!” Valerie exclaims suddenly running out of Patton grasp and leaving her own little suitcase behind. Patton picks up his speed a bit, still securing a now sleeping Remus on his back. He catches up to a now very giddy Valerie being spun around by Roman. He sets her down gently and turned to a very tired father.

“Roman? What are you doing here?” Patton inquires, feeling Remus drool on his shoulder. Roman’s face falls slightly “N-not that I’m not happy to see you…” He yawns “I’m sorry it's been a long day.” Roman chuckles picking up Valerie and hoisting the little girl up.

“No worries! Just thought I’d pick you up, and bring you home, that ok Padre?” Roman explains, Patton nods eternally grateful having not to call a taxi. He takes one of Patton's luggage and Valerie's suitcase and leads them to his car. Patton follows now cradling a sleeping Remus and lugging the rest of the suitcases behind him. 

“Roman! Roman! Roman! Canada was so cool! We went to the aquarium and we got to go on a boat and we ate some many donuts” Valerie gushes, Roman listens intently to every word the excited girl says. Patton sighs happily, he did love the trip but the murder case kind of brought down the mood. He was happy to be home with his kiddos and his friends. 

“That sounds wonderful Princesa!” Roman replies, the little boy smiles at his nickname. They reach Roman’s car and he helps Patton buckle the kids into the back kissing both on the forehead. Remus stays sleeping and after a bit more rambling from Valerie she falls asleep as well. The drive from the airport to his home was a long one so Patton settles in and watches the soft Florida rain dripping down the window and letting his eyes droop at the peacefulness of it all. Roman begins humming a familiar tune soothing the restless man. Patton turns to him listening intently and happily.

“You alright Pat?” Roman asks noticing his stare. Patton perks up suddenly clearing his throat.

“Yes, yes of course..” He replies yawning, rubbing his eyes. Roman huffs doubtful, Patton sighs “I just...the case it was…” He stops shaking his head “Nevermind, I'm just tired” He says firmly Roman, still unsure, decides not to push. So they sit in comfortable silence with each other all the way home. Roman pulls into the dark garage of Patton's home, all the lights off. Patton shivers at the sight of his usually bubbly home. Roman helps him load in the suitcases and places them neatly by the door. Patton carefully unbuckles the boys hoping not to wake them. With Roman’s help, he brings them up to their room and tucks them in successfully. Once the nightlights are on and the boys are sound asleep snoring it's time for Roman to go. 

“Thank you Roman” Patton whispers carefully shutting the door to the boy's bedroom. They make their way back downstairs and sit at the kitchen counter. “For picking us up, and for helping me today” He continues with a little more volume. Roman waves him off.

“Of course Pat! That's what friends are for” Smiling sweetly, Patton chuckles. 

“Can I get you anything before you go? Coffee, tea, water, cookies?” Patton offers reluctant to let his friend go and be left alone once more. He also just really wants to make cookies. Roman laughs.

“No...no I should get home, you must be exhausted. Plus big day tomorrow!” Patton swallows, he wants to protest but knows he shouldn't. He suppresses his words with a smile before insisting Roman take a few of the treats they brought from Canada. Roman accepts graciously and Patton watches him pull out of the driveway and disappear into the starless night. Patton takes a moment to soak in the still house before moving to his study and unpacking his work materials. Roman was right, it was a big day. Tomorrow will mark the first official day of a new case. Patton would take the position of defense in a string of murders. He was nervous, everyone believes it to be hopeless. Patton understood the man had confessed. But when Patton met face to face with him, he knew. This man was innocent-

“-and I'm going to prove it” Patton declares, having a bad feeling however being put onto another murder trial. He sits determined at his desk and begins going through the evidence.

#objection au #logicality #prinxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #remus sanders #thomas sanders #sanders sides #youtube #ao3 #fanfiction #fanfic #archive of our own #ts demus #demus

[soft-stormcloud]

Damage Control [The Witching Hour Au]

Trigger warnings: Sympathetic Deceit, Cursing, cigarette mention, needle mention, fear, screaming, misgendering (not on purpose, they just don’t know yet), suicide comparison, hopelessness, self deprecating thoughts, crying, bad home life mention, beer bottle mention, knives, fear of murder, blood 

A/n: I’m realizing when I switched blogs over from chemically, I never posted this? Which is annoying. Anyway. Here it is.  This is for The Witching Hour Au, sequel to End of the Line. Origin fic.

    “You’re kidding, right?” 

    The teenage boy shook his head. He had a cigarette between his fingers. “Nope. Heard it all from Mary.” 

    “Mary’s always full of shit,” Izzi grumbled, kicking a stray rock. It sailed into the alley and clattered against the broken concrete. 

    “Oh?” He smirked. “So you’ll go inside, then?” 

    She glared up at him. “Yeah. I will.” 

    “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Ellie said nervously. She was wrapped up in her winter coat, her pale face poking out of the hood. 

    Adrian waved his hand dismissively. “She’ll be fine.” 

    “If you really believe that stuff, you won’t let her in!” Ellie insisted. 

    Adrian laughed while Izzi rolled her eyes in amusement. “What, do you believe it?” 

    She blushed and looked away. “I don’t know,” she mumbled. 

    He stepped closer to her, tickling her sides. “You think the ghost of Riley Cornell is gonna get you?!” 

    She shoved him off, his cigarette dropping to the ground. “Maybe!” 

    “Come on, Ellie.” Izzi held out her hand. “We’ll go together.” She glared at Adrian. “There’s nothing to be scared of.” 

    She pursed her lips, and then sighed. She took Izzi’s hand and let herself be led into the alley. 

    Adrian raised his phone, and hit record. 

    “God,” Ellie gasped, covering her nose, “what’s that smell?” 

    “Don’t think about it.” 

    Their sneakers sunk in spots where the concrete gave way to mud, in dirty puddles of rain water and muck. The ground was littered with cigarette butts and needles. As the girls approached the dumpster near the centre of the alley, backed up against the theatre wall, Ellie stopped and shook her head. 

    She was suddenly stricken with fear, so strong she couldn’t move. 

    “Ellie?” Izzi looked at her, concerned. “What’s wrong?” 

    She just shook her head. She was too scared to speak. 

    “Come on, there’s nothing there.” Izzi forced a chuckle, but Ellie was starting to freak her out. “Let’s finish this so we can rub it in his face. He’s just a stupid boy, he was trying to scare us.” 

    She started walking again, and Ellie shook her head. She squeezed her eyes shut. “No,” she choked out. 

    Izzi dropped her hand, inching forward. She got to the dumpster, rounded the corner, and- 

    There was someone there.

    She only got a glimpse of the face, half covered in scales with a glowing eye, before she screamed and sprinted out of the alley. She pulled Ellie with her. Adrian burst out into laughter and recorded them running. 

    “Put that down, you idiot!” Izzi snapped. Ellie had tears in her eyes. “There’s something in there!” 

    Adrian laughed. “Oh, I’m sure you saw something. What, did a leaf scare you?” 

    Izzi clenched her fists, and screamed in frustration. She pushed Adrian as hard as he could, and he fell back into the alley, phone scattering behind him. 

    “IZZI!” He jumped back up, rushing to make sure it wasn’t cracked. 

    He pulled it out from under the dumpster, sighing in relief. He looked up, and- Two eyes stared back. One brown, one yellow, like a snake’s. 

    He went white from fear. He booked it out of the alley, forgetting that they were recording. 

    Riley listened to them leave, covering their head with their arms. They just wanted to be left alone. 

    ___ 

    “We have a problem,” Logan said as he came down Roman’s basement stairs, Patton following close behind. 

    Virgil was standing in the middle of the room, the furniture pushed out of the way, with a stack of books on his head. He glared up at them. 

    “What are you doing?” Patton asked. 

    Roman raised his phone, taking a picture. On screen showed a floating stack of books. “This is going to be great for my Instagram.” 

    “I gave the two of them some things to do to help Virgil practice his sentience,” Logan said. “I think things that require more concentration can help him progress faster. A little bit harder of an exercise, you know?” 

    “FUCK!” The stack of books fell right through Virgil’s skull, sitting at the floor, occupying the same space as his feet. He stepped out of the way, and kicked one of them with all his might- It smacked against the wall and landed on the carpet. 

    “Excuse me!” Roman gasped, picking it up. “This is an exclusive, I’ll have you know!” 

    Virgil growled. 

    “Maybe we can take a break,” Patton said, opening up her arms. Virgil grumbled and snuggled into them. “Logan has something to show us, anyway.” 

    They all crowded onto the couch, Patton with Virgil in her lap, Logan and Roman’s shoulders pressed together. They all leaned in as Logan pressed play on his phone. 

    It was a YouTube video, posted anonymously and titled, “REAL monster found in the alley by the theatre!!!!” It was clearly posted for a specific audience, as the actual location wasn’t revealed. 

    Curious, Roman pulled up the video on his phone, and scrolled down to the comment’s section. He recognized most of the names as people from their school, or with the same usernames as their Instagrams. 

    “Shit,” Virgil said under his breath as the video showed Riley, fully visible and now on display. “You need to get this taken down.” 

    Logan raised an eyebrow. “Me?” 

    He shrugged. “If anyone here can learn how to hack, it’s you.” 

    Logan scowled, shoving his phone in his pocket. “Right, while I work on that,” he rolled his eyes, “why don’t you keep working on your sentience? We need to get Riley out of there. What progress have you made?” 

    Virgil looked away. 

    “Not much,” Roman admitted. “He still can’t leave the house. The farthest he can go is the front porch. We’ve been using your exercises, but, well- They aren’t really working.” His eyes widened. “I mean, they are! Just, not… Enough?” He blushed. He always sucked at talking to Logan. He loved the guy, but it was impossible to please him. 

    Logan, though he was feeling significantly less motivated, looked to Patton. “And how have you been doing on your part?” 

    “I’ve been trying… But he doesn’t trust me!” Patton looked guilty and embarrassed. “He won’t talk to me. I can’t even get him to stand up.” 

    “What do you mean?” Virgil asked. 

    “He’s just… Curled against the dumpster, hugging his knees. Sometimes when I go he won’t even raise his head!” 

    “Right, well, I doubt videos like these,” Logan shook his phone, showing off the video they just watched and all the others that came up in the recommended, “are helping.” 

    “So you’ll try to hack them?” Virgil asked, and Roman snorted. 

    Logan looked at them flatly. “If it’s our only option.” He stood up, brushing his jeans down. “If you three could stay here and help Virgil work on his sentience, that’d be helpful.” 

    Roman laughed. “And where are you going?” 

    “Damage control.” 

    “Are you sure you want to go back there, Lo?” Patton asked nervously. She squeezed Virgil’s waist. 

    He held up his hand. “I’m sure. It wasn’t that bad to watch. I’ve gotten over it.” 

    Nobody believed that. 

    “Well, I guess it’s all up to you, then!” Roman said, clapping his hands together. 

    Right. “Isn’t it always?” Logan didn’t wait for a response, just left. 

    Roman gathered up the books and straightened up, grinning. “Guess we better get back to work!” 

    Virgil looked at the books in distaste. “I need coffee first.” And with that, he sunk out. 

    Roman’s eyes widened. “HE CAN’T GO TRAMPING AROUND IN THE KITCHEN, MY PARENTS ARE HOME!” 

    ___ 

    “Hey.” 

    Riley didn’t move. 

    Logan sat down next to them, so they were both hidden by the dumpster. 

    “Did they show up today?” 

    Riley hesitated, and then slowly nodded. They were hugging their knees, just like Patton said, their chin rested on them and their eyes downcast. 

    “We’re working on getting those videos taken down,” he said, “so maybe people will stop coming around.” 

    “Don’t bother.” 

    Logan frowned in confusion. “What?” 

    “It won’t work,” they mumbled. 

    “Don’t you want to take the chance?” 

    They shook their head. 

    Okay. So that definitely wasn’t the way to get him to open up. Maybe a different direction… 

    “Have we told you about our friend Virgil?” 

    They snorted. “What, your ‘ghost friend?’” They wiggled their fingers a little, their only movement. “Ooooooo. I’m sure he can help me.” 

    That was definitely the wrong direction. Shit. Shit. Fuck. 

    Logan sighed. “Tell you what.” He spoke quietly. “When we get you out of here- When -you can come back to my place.” 

    Riley raised an eyebrow, but didn’t move or look at him. 

    “It’s better than this gross alley. And it’s quiet. It’s really quiet. No one will bother you. And you can rest a few days before you meet Virgil.” 

    They hesitated. “How long has Virgil been dead for?” 

    Logan didn’t want to answer. “A while.” 

    They laughed again, shaking their head. “You guys have no fucking idea what you’re doing, do you? I-” Their voice cracked, “I’m going to be here forever. Virgil can’t even leave his house, how am I ever-?” 

    They broke, and started sobbing, their body shaking. They buried their face in their knees, and Logan hesitated, before wrapping an arm around them. 

    Before Roman and Patton, he never really had any physical affection. He just tried to think of what they would do. 

    Finally, Logan made a right move. Did something good. Riley collapsed into his arms, burying their face in his chest as they sobbed, gripping him tightly. Logan wrapped them up tight in their arms, letting Riley let out all their fear and pain and stress. 

Riley eventually fell asleep, leaned against Logan’s chest. Well. He definitely couldn’t leave now. He reached around for his phone, plugged in his headphones, and put on a podcast. 

___

Logan found himself visiting Riley every day. He didn’t know why. It wasn’t that beneficial. He could be working on learning how to hack, or helping Virgil with his sentience. 

But he didn’t. He visited Riley. 

He learned their pronouns, and what their favourite books were. He informed the others of their pronouns, and ordered Riley’s favourite books. Then, because Riley couldn’t hold them, Logan read to them. 

Every day. 

Eventually, he even started seeing them more than once. He would drop in to talk a few minutes before school, and skip lunch to read a chapter with them before heading back. Then he would go back after school, and stay with them until it got dark. 

When it started, Riley would normally fall asleep leaning against Logan, and jerk awake as their sentience failed and they fell right through him. 

That didn’t happen much anymore. 

“You’ve been spending quite some time with our dragon boy,” Roman said one night, while Virgil was trying to learn how to tie different knots. “Any progress?”

“Not a boy,” Logan reminded, eyes focused on Virgil’s frustrated fingers. “And… Not much. They’re able to keep up human contact, but otherwise, nothing new. Still can’t hold a book. I think I’ve gotten them to open up to me, though.” 

“Oh?” Roman’s eyes twinkled. “Human contact, eh? Opening up, eh? So what happened? How did they die?”

Logan just laughed. 

“Really?” He whined. “You’re not gonna tell me?!” 

“Not on your life.” Riley trusted him with that information. It wasn’t to be taken lightly. 

“I brought cookies!” Patton cried as they came into the room, holding a plate of homemade chocolate chip cookies. They sat next to Virgil, taking away his rope and replacing it with a cookie instead. The bracelet on their wrist had returned to its usual green, instead of the pink they wore before. “What are we talking about?”

“Logan’s new boyfriend,” Roman teased. “Er, uh- Partner!” 

Logan rolled his eyes. “Riley is not my partner. They’re just my friend.”

“Ooh, big word comin’ from you,” Virgil said with his mouth full. “You sure you’re ready for that commitment?” 

Logan glared. “And what about you two?”

Patton and Virgil glanced between each other. “What about us?” Virgil asked. 

He waved his hand at them aggressively. “When are you going to, you know, date?!”

They both laughed. “We already are, cutie!” 

Logan blinked. Roman was laughing at him. “You are?”

“Since the day we met,” Virgil confirmed. 

“It was love at first sight,” Patton sung. 

Virgil smiled. He didn’t quite believe in love at first sight, but if that was how Patton felt, who was he to argue? 

“Whatever,” Logan huffed. 

“Not everyone dances around their feelings,” Roman teased. He knew Logan was touch starved, and had trouble expressing his emotions due to his suffocating home life, and he tried to be nice about it… But sometimes it was hard. 

“We should watch a movie tonight!” Patton smiled. 

“Normally I’d say yes,” Logan said, “but Virgil really needs to work on his sentience. Riley isn’t doing well there.”

“Okay, hold on,” Roman said. He looked uncharacteristically serious. “Say we do get Virgil up and about. What then? Is he gonna see Riley and immediately know how to help?”

Their eyes all fell to Virgil. 

He hesitated. “... No.” 

They were quiet. 

“But- But it could still help, right?” Patton asked nervously. 

“I mean, sure, it could.” Virgil shrugged one shoulder. “But the only way to help them is for them to build up their own sentience.” 

“But they don’t want to,” Logan insisted. 

“They’re like, ghost-suicidal!” Roman cried. 

“Yeah, well.” Virgil held up his hands. 

“We need something to motivate them,” Roman mumbled. “Logan, you aren’t enough?”

“Apparently not,” he grumbled. 

Roman looked at him guiltily. “That’s- That’s not what I meant. Just that, you two are getting close, and wouldn’t they want to spend more time with you? Wouldn’t they want to do it for you?” 

He shrugged. 

“Now, Roman,” Patton scolded, “romance isn’t everything. If Logan was the only reason they were motivated to get better, I’d be worried!”

“I think it’s that they don’t think they can,” Logan said. “They don’t have any faith in themselves.” 

“Then we need to show them that they can!” Roman declared. “Which involves Virgil building his sentience, so he can float down Riley’s alley, and flaunt their ghostliness! Problem solved!” 

Logan wasn’t so sure that would work. But… He didn’t have another plan. So he stayed quiet. 

“We might not have too much time,” Virgil said. 

“What do you mean?” Logan asked. 

“Just, if they don’t make progress soon, they could… Regress.”

“Regress?” Patton frowned. “That doesn’t sound good.” 

“They’d go back into their loop, and we’d have to start from scratch. Only- Well, we wouldn’t be able to break them out again.” 

“What?” Roman whispered. 

Virgil was staring at his hands. “It’s like… How someone with dissociative identity disorder, their mind fractured after going through a trauma, to protect them. If Riley stays in this depressive state too long, the same thing will happen to them. Their spirit will lock them back into their loop, and not let them back out, to protect them.”

“How is that protecting them?!” Patton cried. They had tears in their eyes. 

“Because it’s easier to go through the same trauma than to experience new ones,” he said. 

Logan glared down at his lap. That… Would not happen. Not to Riley. 

“Lo?” Pat asked, sniffling. “Where are you going?” 

He grabbed his backpack, full of the books he had ordered for Riley. “Going to Riley.”

“Logan, that won’t help anything-”

He was already gone. 

___ 

Riley sniffled into their knees. The kids were throwing beer bottles at them. 

They had wandered in, drunk, and were now screaming about some monster. They were recording again. 

They were always recording. 

Every day, it got harder to hide. 

“You’re not supposed to be in here.” 

The kids looked back at Logan, who was glaring at them from the entrance. 

“Yeah?” One of them laughed. “The hell are you going to do?”

Logan pulled the knife out of his pocket. The same one he was carrying the day he met Riley. 

That was all it took for the kids to bow down. Logan’s knife glinted in the moonlight, his determined glare staring them down. They stumbled past him, but Logan grabbed one of their shoulders. 

He snatched the still-recording phone, and deleted the video off the device. He shoved it back in the boy’s hands. 

When they were gone, Logan pocketed the knife and knelt in front of Riley. He pulled Riley’s hands away from their face, and pulled them into his arms. 

“I hate it when you leave,” Riley spat, gripping onto him. “I hate it!” 

“I know,” he lied. “I know. Come on, stand up with me.” 

“What? Why? I can’t go anywhere.”

“Just stand up.”

They stood up, and Riley’s legs were shaking. 

“We have to get you out of here,” Logan said. “So I need you to please work with me.” 

“Okay,” they whispered. 

“Hold out your hands.” 

Riley did so. Logan reached into his backpack and pulled out one of the books he bought, a thinner one. It was a very short collection of Edgar Allen Poe stories. 

Riley’s eyes widened. They were so focused on the book, that they didn’t recognize Logan trying to gently settle it in their hands. Whenever it started to fall, Logan would catch it. 

Then, finally- Finally -after a half hour of this, the book stayed. Only for a second, and they both fumbled before Logan caught it, but it stayed. They both saw it. 

Logan looked up and caught their eye, and they both grinned. 

They spent the rest of the night celebrating. Riley laid down with their head rested on Logan’s soft thighs as Logan read, his voice careful and soothing. 

“I hate it here,” Riley whispered as the sun touched the horizon. The sky was an ashy gray, peeks of fire coming up in the distance. “It’s so boring, and when it’s not boring, it’s terrifying. I’m so… Scared, all the time.” They squeeze their eyes shut. “I keep thinking that he’ll come back, and kill me all over again. And I’ll have to start over.”

“That’ll never happen,” Logan promised. “It doesn’t even make any sense.” He brushed Riley’s hair back with his fingers. “We’ll get you out of here. We will.” 

“Logan,” Riley swallowed, “could you do something for me?”

Logan immediately got nervous. He wasn’t good at favours. He always did them wrong, somehow. 

“Could you leave the books with me?” 

He blinked. “Of course. Why?”

“So that you have to come back,” they said. “To get them. And so I can practice.” 

Logan blushed. He refrained from telling them that the books belonged to them. “Of course. I’ll be back tomorrow to help out. We can use some of the exercises I’ve been having Roman practice with Virgil.”

“Are they working?”

“... They haven’t, uh, not worked yet. It’s too soon to tell.”

Riley smiled a little. “You’re the boss. You know more about this than I do.”

“That’s ironic,” he laughed. “Get some sleep. I don’t know what sleep deprivation can do to a ghost, but let’s not find out.” 

“Stay with me until I fall asleep,” they said, and it was almost an order. 

“And if I don’t?”

“I’ll haunt you.”

He really hoped they would. 

___ 

Virgil was sitting in the kitchen while Roman’s mother cut up some lemons. 

It was dangerous. Not a smart move, really. He could go visible any minute now. He wasn’t anywhere near poltergeist level. 

But controlling his form was getting easier, and it was exhilarating. 

She scooped up the lemon slices and dropped them into the pitcher of tea she was making, and carried it outside. In the backyard, she and her husband were sitting on a picnic blanket while Roman painted on an easel he had set up back there. They were playing music and laughing and talking. Virgil longed to be a part of it. 

But he couldn’t get that far. 

He stood up and came around to the counter, picking up the knife Roman’s mother had left. He ran his finger along the blade and-

“Shit!” He snapped, dropping it. 

It cut him!

He snatched a paper towel and wrapped it around his finger as blood pooled out. It dampened the paper towel with red, and then disappeared. 

The doorbell rang and Virgil went to see who it was, grinning. He pulled the door open and yanked Patton inside. 

Patton squeaked. “Verge?”

“Look!” He shoved his finger in Patton’s face, ripping the paper towel off.  

Patton gasped. “Oh no, how did this happen? Are you okay?!” He inspected the cut carefully. 

“Patton, the knife cut me!” He sounded way too excited. 

Patton looked at him. “Uh… Yeah, babe. Does it hurt?”

“Yeah!” He grinned. 

Patton was so confused. “Sweetheart, I need some context.” 

“I’m a ghost, Pat. I used to just sink through the floor! Knives shouldn’t be able to cut me!”

“Does this mean…?”

He grinned, nodding. “I’m getting more sentient.” 

#virgil sanders #sympathetic deceit #loceit #moxiety #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #deceit sanders #virgil #deceit #logan #patton #roman #the witching hour au #virgil writes

[averykedavra]

No Longer Will You Deceive Yourself

Anon asked: Demus? Where Remus thinks Janus is gonna leave him but Janus is like, "Honey no. You're stuck with me-"

Sassy, I love it. And yes, I haven’t touched these prompts, but I was really tired today and needed to write some quick hurt/comfort, so sue me. Warning: I am, as said before, really tired, and I am writing this during my online graduation, so it will probably be not great and somewhat OOC. Thanks to @chaospersonified for supplying me with the plural of Pocky. Title from Forbidden Fruit ‘cause it’s late and I can’t function.

Find this fic on Ao3 here!

Summary: Remus knows Janus is going to leave. He has the Light Sides now--he doesn’t need Remus. He just wishes Janus would get it over with.

Words: 2733

Pairings: Platonic Dukeceit.

Warnings: blood mention, death mention, violence mention, swearing, self-deprecation, self-isolation, sympathetic Janus and Remus

Remus isn’t a patient person.

Okay, yeah, big shocker. He’s all about surprise and excitement and adventure and pushing the envelope. He’s filled with energy, vibrating and dancing and spreading through him at every possible opportunity. He has a million thoughts that tug him in different directions and splinter his bones into little pieces and he follows them blindly, leash around his neck, ‘cause why not? There’s no point in waiting if he can do something already. It’s instant gratification or things get boring. Everything could always be more exciting and more disturbed and faster.

Sometimes Remus wonders if he sees the world faster than everyone else, if other people don’t feel like everyone else is in slow motion. Probably not. It’s probably a weird Remus thing, like every other part of Remus, another trait that sets him apart. Being unique is fun, but it’s lonely, especially when you’re the kind of unique no one wants.

“People hate what they don't understand,” Janus would say. “Society is built to reject anyone who doesn’t conform to its standards, unless that nonconformity can be harnessed for its own ends. Nobody is perfect, they’re just better at hiding it. You have freedom, and that is something many people would kill for.”

Janus was always good at reassuring Remus. Well, in his own way, which was basically “Eat the rich.”

Remus still isn’t a patient person, though, and that’s why he wants Janus to just leave.

He knows Janus is gonna. He knew it the moment Janus came back downstairs after that video, wild glee on his face. He knew it the moment Janus whispered “I told him.” He knew it when he watched that episode--seriously, Patton could turn into a frog with killer abs? Who knew--and he saw Janus take off those ridiculous gloves and share his name. And Roman was a bitch about it, so Remus reminded himself to stab Roman at some point, but Thomas wasn’t. Thomas accepted Janus. Patton accepted Janus. And if Patton said something, then it was law.

Janus had a place now. He’d pulled a Virgil, clawed himself up from the recesses of Thomas’ mind and snatched a seat at the table. He had it all before him now: baking cookies with Patton, listening to music with Virgil, debating with Logan, questing with Roman. He had all that love and that happiness and that disgusting goodness.

With that as an option, why would he ever choose Remus?

Remus, with his too-loud voice. Remus, with his despicable ideas. Remus, with his inability to remember boundaries--hug, don’t hug, Janus lied but sometimes he didn’t and Remus could never tell which--and his inability to stop himself from blurting out everything that came to mind. He was so sensitive sometimes, too. Every short reprimand felt like a knife stabbing through the lining of his heart. Every time someone turned away and ignored him was a rope around his neck, choking him out. And not in a fun way.

Remus is everything wrong with Thomas. No one in their right mind would choose to be around him. Janus only liked him because there was no one else, and without someone by your side, the Mindscape was a cold and empty place.

One particularly evil and selfish part of Remus was almost glad when Virgil left. It meant Remus had Janus all to himself. It meant he could scrounge up more scraps of attention and pretend that attention was affection, acknowledgment was respect, and companionship was friendship.

Now Janus has a better option waiting for him.

And Remus has spent three days waiting for him to leave.

Look, he gets it. Janus wouldn’t want to nope out right away. He probably feels bad for Remus, wants to get everything sorted before he leaves for good. Maybe, Remus dares to hope, he’ll miss Remus. Just a little bit.

Because Remus will miss Janus. He will. It hurts like hell to even imagine life without the sassy snake by his side. He’ll have to learn to cook dinner, for starters. Probably end up just eating a million Pockies and human hands. Not healthy, but Remus can look however he wants, so it’s fine. And he can’t die.

No, it’s the little things that he’ll miss. Janus’ snicker whenever Remus makes a particularly dirty joke. The way their shoulders bump when they watch horror movies together. The way Janus nods along as Remus rants about whatever, hardly listening but still trying to look respectful. The way Janus hugs him with all six arms and lets Remus curl up against his chest and be safe.

He’ll miss all that. But this is a huge opportunity for Janus! Remus wants his friend to be happy, even if Janus doesn’t care about him.

He’s not selfish enough to force Janus to stay.

Maybe he’s on the wrong side of the Mindscape if he’s trying to be selfless.

Well, he can’t say he hasn’t considered it--lock Janus in a closet so he’ll never leave. He thought about it with Virgil, too. But Janus would escape and Virgil would escape, and they’d be mad, and then there’d be no chance of them ever even saying hi to him again.

Well, Virgil didn’t anyway. So maybe Remus has nothing to lose.

Still. The thought of keeping Janus there against his will makes Remus feel weirdly icky. Is this what morals feel like? He suddenly has a lot of pity for Patton--they feel all twisty and guilty, like snakes in his stomach.

Remus tries his best to ignore the snakes. And the snake, the one who spends less and less time with him, who spends more and more time upstairs. The one who comes back downstairs smelling like cookies.

If he can ignore Janus, if he can get out of Janus’ way, it’ll be easier for both of them.

So he doesn’t come out for breakfast. He gets used to days without Janus, nights on his own, smashing in the skulls of thousands of enemies to fill his mind with blood and guts and murder because that’s safe and not all sappy and sickly like the feelings in his stomach.

It’s lonely. He’ll admit that. He wonders if it would be worth it to go fight his brother or torture Thomas or follow Patton around, but odds are, Janus will already be there. And he doesn’t think he can face Janus. His resolve is shaky and crumbling like an old castle, and one kind word from Janus would send it crumbling down. He’d probably end up crying, begging for Janus to stay. And maybe Janus would for Remus’ sake, and Remus would have to live with the fact that he was making Janus miserable. Or maybe Janus would look him in the eyes and say that Remus should suck it up, that no one wanted the evil twin, that he was Intrusive Thoughts and not Needy Bitch Thoughts.

That’s what Remus was. Needy. Like a dragon with its hoard. Scrambling for the last bits of happiness he could find.

Who needed happiness anyway? Who needed friendship? He had a mace and a pet octopus, he was good to go.

He was fine. Really. He summoned food in the Imagination and watched conspiracy theories to get himself to fall asleep. Everything was fine. Janus was probably packing up now, getting ready to go, probably glad to be rid of an awkward goodbye.

It was a surprise when on day three, Remus heard a knock on the door.

He considered just ignoring it. But the knocking came again, louder. He heard his name. Janus.

Why was Janus here?

Curiosity won out over logic, and Remus tossed the bleeding opossum he’d been dissecting to the side. Carefully maneuvering around piles of bones, he trotted over and opened the door.

He tried to brace himself for anything. Anger, joy, disgust.

He didn’t expect Janus to sigh in relief and hug Remus around the waist.

“Hey, hey, what’s going on?” Remus quickly extricated himself from the hug. It felt good, but Janus was leaving, so he shouldn’t let himself enjoy it. “Cat got your dick?”

“I haven’t seen you for three days!” Janus exclaimed. “Are you alright?”

Remus stared blankly at Janus. “What?”

“It’s been three days,” Janus said. That didn’t clear anything up. “Did you lose track of time in the Imagination?”

“Naw,” Remus said, because lying to Janus wasn’t a good idea. “Just got wrapped up in stuff. Why, whatcha need?”

“I needed to check on you.” Janus’ frantic worry had softened, now, replaced with concern. “Have you eaten? Is everything alright?”

“I’ve eaten, duh,” Remus said, carefully avoiding the second question. “What’s the big deal here? Where’s the fire? Do you need me to kick Thomas in the ass?”

“There’s nothing wrong,” Janus said slowly. “At least in that regard, but--”

“Then I don’t see why you need me!” Remus laughed. “Look, it’s wonderful to see you, but I’ve got some very important things to dissect so if you could let me go that would be ve-ry-nice, thank you!”

“Wait.” Janus reached forward and grabbed Remus’ arm. Remus could easily fight Janus off, he was a real twink, but Remus found himself rooted to the spot. “I want to know what happened.”

“What?” Remus laughed again, ignoring how brittle it sounded. “Nothing happened!”

Janus gave him a long look. “Go ahead, keep lying, it’s not like I can taste them or anything.”

“Whatever.” Remus folded his arms. “I’m in a mood to smash some skulls. You volunteering yours?”

If this were anyone else, they would have left. Janus stood his ground. “I want to talk to you.”

“Why?”

“Because--” Janus threw up his hands. “Because I’m worried about you, you idiot! You disappeared with no warning! What am I supposed to do with that information, keep going about my business as usual? I wanted to make sure you weren’t hurt or dead, and now you’re clearly lying to me, so I want to make sure that mentally, you’re okay.”

Remus laughed. “I’m Intrusive Thoughts, Jan, I think it’s against my job description to be mentally okay.”

“Be that as it may.” Janus’ eyes were painfully soft. “I’m worried, Remus. If I'm the cause you can talk to someone else, maybe Patton--”

“Hold on, hold on!” Remus frowned. “If you’re the cause?”

“I mean...” Janus suddenly developed an interest in his gloves. “There are so many other people around that could have upset you, you know.”

“You didn’t--” Remus stopped himself before a lie could escape.

“I did,” Janus said, his mouth falling open. “Remus, I’m sorry, whatever it is--”

And Remus understood now. Janus had searched him out because he felt guilty, and maybe he didn’t want Remus dead. If Remus was hurt, after all, Thomas would probably be affected. And now Janus felt even more guilty and maybe he’d try and stick around for Remus’ sake, but Remus couldn’t reassure Janus that it wasn’t his fault because technically it was and Janus could sense lies.

Stupid, stupid, stupid.

“I’m sorry,” Janus repeated, the words forced but genuine.

“You didn’t do anything wrong,” Remus said with a wave of his hand. Truth.

“I must have done something,” Janus said, eyes narrowed.

“You’re not doing it on purpose.” Truth.

“If it’s hurting you,” Janus said, “I don’t want to do it anymore.”

“It doesn’t matter if it’s hurting me.” Truth.

So why did Janus’ eyes flash?

“Of course it matters,” Janus snapped. “Why would you even say that?”

Remus shrugged. “I’m bored. Can I leave now?”

“No!” Janus seemed to regret raising his voice as soon as he did. “Remus, please just talk to me.”

“I’m not one for talking,” Remus said with a grin. “Try something more hands-on.”

“Holy shit.” Janus rolled his eyes. “I’m trying to reach out and you’re being insufferable.”

“That’s me!” Remus wiggled his hips. “Dunno what you expected, JanJan!”

“Look.” Janus looked Remus in the face. “Please just say, no tricks or sexual innuendos, that you are alright.”

“I’m...alright?”

Janus’ lips tightened. “You were lying.”

Remus froze. “Oh.”

He was? He wasn’t alright? He thought he was. Well, maybe he wasn’t. He was sad. But he was okay with this. He’d come to terms with it. Right?

Janus was saying his name. Remus realized he’d zoned out. Quickly he pasted a too-wide smile on his face. “What were you saying?”

Janus’ eyebrows drew together. “Remus, do you want to come into the kitchen? I can make us food and we can talk this out, or--”

“Why bother?” Remus blurted out without thinking.

Janus reeled back like he’d been slapped. “What?”

“Nothing!” Remus immediately clarified. “It was nothing, don’t worry about it--”

“What did you mean.” Janus’ face was getting scary intense. “Tell me.”

“Look.” Remus raised his hands. “It’s not a big deal, if you knew what the problem was you’d agree, you don’t have to worry or anything.”

“Well, what’s the problem?”

“Not a big one!”

“I hate this.” Janus closed his eyes. “We could go in circles forever, or you could actually tell me what’s on your mind. You’ve never hesitated before,” he added, “of course this is the one time you have an ounce of self-control.”

Remus flinched. He couldn’t help it.

Janus’ eyes widened slightly. “Re?” he asked, using the nickname Remus hadn’t heard since they were kids.

“Leave me alone,” Remus choked out, reaching for the doorknob.

“Remus, wait--”

“Leave me alone!” Remus yelled. “Stop fucking drawing it out and just leave! I know you want to, I get it, leave already before you drive me insane!”

"Remus,” Janus said slowly, “what are you saying?”

“I know you want to,” Remus said, his voice cracking. “Just--just leave, okay? Go make friends with the others. Make up with Virgil. I’m fine on my own. I am! I’m--I’m fine.”

He knew Janus could taste the lies in the air, that hugged Remus’ throat and burned in his eyes. But he couldn’t bring himself to care. They were the last things that gave him comfort, the last ragged bits of protection against the world, against the contemptuous look Janus would clearly give him, finally realizing that there wasn’t a problem, it was just Remus being stupid and needy again--

“You think I’m going to leave?” Janus whispered. Why was he drawing it out? Just to torture Remus? Remus liked torture but not like this, not all scratchy and achey.

“Yeah, duh.” Remus shrugged, swiping at his eyes. “Don’t blame you. ‘S better up there. No me.”

He risked a glance at Janus, bracing for a glare of anger. Instead, he got Janus standing there, his mouth open, looking absolutely gutted.

What?

“Who told you I was leaving?” Janus asked.

“No one.”

“Good.” Janus stepped forward. “Because I’m not.”

Remus tried to piece together that sentence. “Huh?”

“I’m not leaving,” Janus repeated. “I would never even think of that. Why on earth would you think I would? You wouldn’t last a day without me taking care of you.”

“I lasted three,” Remus pointed out. “A-and it’s okay. You don’t have to f-force yourself to stay for my sake. I’m okay with it.”

“Well, I’m not!” Janus exclaimed. “Remus, you’re my best friend! I couldn’t just leave you behind!”

“You don’t have to feel guilty, I get it--”

“This is not guilt.” Janus stared into Remus’ eyes. “This is love. I love you, you are my best friend, and you are stuck with me until the end of time. Will things change now that Patton has finally seen sense? Yes. But if I ever do end up going upstairs?” Janus smiled. “I’m taking you with me.”

“Really?” Remus whispered. “But they hate me.”

“Too bad.” Janus cupped a hand around his mouth and glanced around. “Don’t tell anyone, but they have terrible taste.”

Remus giggled, and Janus laughed too, and Janus laughing was the best thing in the whole entire world.

“You’re not leaving,” Remus repeated, hoping this wasn’t a dream.

“I’m not,” Janus agreed. “So stop being stupid and come help me make lunch--oof!”

Remus wrapped his arms around Janus, squeezing tightly, burying his face in Janus’ shoulder.

And Janus didn’t laugh or judge him. He just hugged back, all six arms, and waited there until Remus was ready.

Remus knew he could take all the time he needed.

Janus wouldn’t leave.

#averywrites #sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #sanders sides fic #sanders sides fanfiction #fanfiction #platonic dukeceit #platonic demus #sympathetic deceit sanders #sympathetic janus #sympathetic remus #remus sanders #janus sanders #remus sanders angst #dukeceit angst #tw blood mention #tw violence mention #tw death mention #tw cursing #angst #angst with a happy ending #hurt/comfort

[elendiltengwesta]

Prompt- “Let them go!”

Pairing- None

Characters- Logan Sanders, Roman Sanders, Patton Sanders, Virgil Sanders, Deceit Sanders, Remus Sanders(mention)

Fic Type- Its just pure angst with no happy ending(yet)

Warnings- Kidnapping, bad self care, morally grey Deceit. I think that's it, but let me know if you need something else tagged.

Word Count- 1,769

A/N- Consistent writing style? Who’s she? Never heard of her. Anyway, I’m actually pretty proud of this and this(hopefully) will become my usual writing style. There will be a sequel to this, and I already have several ideas for it.

Tag List- @ukaia @music14ss @awkwardlesbain

Feedback is appreciated as always.

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

It had been a stressful week. The dark sides had kidnapped Virgil, and no one knew why. Thomas still had anxiety and nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary about it, so that was at least something good the other sides could focus on.

Patton was trying to make sure the other two were doing okay. It was difficult because he was also dealing with his own emotions, but he knew he had to be there to help the others or they would be doing a lot worse than they were.

Roman wasn’t taking it very well. He had just started to build a better relationship with Virgil when Remus and Deceit had taken him. He was almost always in the Imagination, usually practicing with his sword, only leaving when Patton forced him to.

Logan was taking it the worst. He had been there with Virgil when Remus and Deceit came. He could have done something to stop them. He SHOULD have done something to stop them. He was now sitting at his desk, piles of paper in front of him. There had to be some way to get Virgil back, there just had to be. He was so focused on creating a plan that he didn’t hear Patton knock on his door.

“Logan? Are you okay? You’ve been in there for a while…” Patton’s worry was clear, even from just his voice.

“I’m fine, Patton.” Logan responded. Was he fine though? He couldn’t remember the last time he had eaten anything, or even had something to drink. He hadn’t slept much either. 

“Are you sure…? Can you come with me and take a break?” Patton knew Logan probably wouldn’t, but he wanted to try. 

“No. I have to keep working.” Logan leaned over his desk, putting his head in his hand. He was looking over the papers in front of him. They were a compilation of information, everything he knew about all of the sides, himself included, and what happened the week before.

Patton could hear the strain in Logan’s voice. “I’m coming in…” He said, slowly pushing the door open. He saw Logan at his desk and walked over to him.

Logan looked up from his desk and at Patton. “I told you I’m fine, Patton.” 

“I- I know… but you have to take a break! You’ve been working for hours!” 

Logan sighed, realizing that Patton wouldn’t leave him alone until he took a break. “Fine.”

Patton gave Logan a small smile. “Thank you.”

Logan apparently wasn’t doing as well as he thought he was. When he tried to stand, his knees gave out under him, causing him to fall. He grabbed the edge of his desk to stop himself from completely falling.

“Logan!” Patton caught Logan as he fell and helped him stand. He started guiding Logan over to his bed. “You definitely need to take a break! There’s no way you can think clearly if you can’t stand!” 

Logan let Patton lead him away from his desk, it wasn’t like he could fight him even if he wanted to. He didn’t say anything, knowing Patton wouldn’t listen to his protests. He didn’t know why he was protesting in the first place. Yes, he felt guilty for Virgil being captured, he knew he had to get him back, but he also knew he couldn’t do that if he wasn’t taking care of himself. He was Logic, so why was he ignoring the logical steps of action to getting Virgil back? 

Patton helped Logan sit down on his bed then walked back over to the desk. He looked at the papers on top of it, seeing just how much was really there. It had been a week… how long had Logan been overworking himself? Moving some of the papers on the top, Patton saw even more papers, papers about different things than Virgil’s capture. Papers about Thomas’ schedule, papers about some of the videos Thomas was in the process of making, and papers on several other topics. Enough papers to indicate that Logan had been working, possibly overworking, for weeks, maybe even months.

The other sides always wondered what Logan was doing in his room. They knew Virgil was in his room a lot because it helped with his anxiety, but no one knew what Logan did in his. They all assumed he was just reading, or doing some other nerdy thing, but they had no way to know for sure. Logan never let any of the other sides into his room unless it was absolutely necessary. Though the other sides had heard Deceit and even Remus talking to Logan when the others couldn’t get in.

Patton returned the papers to where they were on the desk and went back to Logan. He made him lie down, wanting him to sleep but understanding if he couldn’t. He sat on the end of the bed, making sure Logan didn’t try to get up and start working again. 

When Logan laid down he realized just how tired he really was. He gave into his exhaustion a few minutes later, falling asleep for the first time in days.

Patton smiled when he saw the logical side had fallen asleep. A few scales then appeared on the father figure’s face. He dropped the act once no one could see him, revealing himself to be Deceit. He had only been planning on seeing what Logan had planned so far so he could stop it, but seeing how hard Logan was working made him kind of angry. Angry at Roman and Patton for letting Logan overwork himself for this long and do nothing about it. Angry that Logan was the only one who seemed to actually be trying to get Virgil back, while the others claimed they loved him and would do anything for him. Angry that Logan was just putting up with it and not doing anything about it. Logan was in a deep sleep and didn’t feel Deceit pick him up and sink out of the room. 

Virgil had long stopped trying to get out of the ropes around him. He saw Deceit rise into the room and didn’t react. Then he saw Logan in his arms. He struggled against the ropes, trying to get to Logan. 

Deceit didn’t pay any attention to Virgil. He walked over to a small couch on the other side of the room and laid Logan down on it. Yes, he had kidnapped Logan, but he deserved to rest, even if it wasn’t under the best circumstances. He did tie Logan up just in case he tried to escape when he woke up, though it was just a precaution so he didn’t run and the ropes were nowhere near as tight as Virgil’s were. 

All Virgil accomplished by struggling against the ropes were making his already bad rope burn even worse. He stopped tugging when he saw that Deceit wasn’t hurting Logan, though he was glaring at Deceit. He would say something to him, but he had been silenced by Deceit a few days ago.

Deceit noticed Virgil’s glare. He simply smiled at him and exited the room, leaving Virgil with nothing to do but watch over his friend while he slept.

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

It was another day before Roman or Patton noticed that Logan had disappeared. It was Roman who noticed first. He had been going to Logan’s room to see what progress had been made on the plan. The first indication that something was wrong was that Logan didn’t respond when Roman knocked on his door. The thing that made Roman sure that something happened was that when he tried to push open the door, it opened. It never opened unless Logan opened it. Roman cautiously took a few steps inside the room, drawing his sword just in case. When he didn’t see anything out of the ordinary he started to turn to leave, then he saw something on Logan’s bed.

It was a note. Roman walked over to it, sheathing his sword and picking up the small piece of paper. It read: “You caused this to happen. He did so much for you, yet you never did anything for him, thinking you could do just as well without him. Well, let’s see just how far you can truly get without the voice of reason on your side. -D”

Roman stared blankly at the note for a few seconds. He then moved suddenly, running to Patton’s room. He knocked on his door, out of breath from running.

Patton opened the door like he usually would, unaware that anything was wrong. “Hey kiddo! What’s up?”

Roman wordlessly handed Patton the note, still trying to catch his breath. 

Patton tilted his head, looking confused. “What’s that?” He asked as he stepped out of his room and took the note from Roman. His eyes widened as he read it. He opened his mouth like he was going to say something, but closed it again before he did. 

Roman finally caught his breath. He looked up at Patton, staring directly into his eyes. “I’m going to get them back.”

“What?!” Patton seemed genuinely surprised by what Roman said.

“I’m going to get them back.” He said again like it was the simplest thing.

“Roman, no! I want to get them back too, but I don’t want you to get hurt.” Patton’s voice was a mixture of many emotions. He was happy they knew where Virgil was, but he didn’t want anything to happen to him or Logan. He was concerned about what the note meant, and he didn’t want Roman getting hurt.

Roman’s hand tightened around the hilt of his sword. “I’m going. Are you coming or staying here?”

"I-” He hesitated. “I- I’m staying here. That way you can come to me if you need to get out of there.” Patton didn’t want Roman going, much less by himself, but he knew he couldn’t stop him. 

Roman nodded slowly and looked at Patton for a few more seconds before sinking out to the dark side of the mindscape. 

Patton leaned back on his door, thinking about what just happened.

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

Roman rose into the dark side of the mindscape a few moments later. It was almost pitch black, and it took his eyes a few seconds to adjust enough to be able to see. It had been a while since he had been there, but he still knew his way around. He walked quickly, drawing his sword as he reached a black door with yellow designs on it. He burst into the room, his sword in hand. Then he saw Deceit. “Let them go!”

Deceit just laughed.

#sanders sides #tw kidnapping #tw bad self care #morally grey Deceit #logan sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #virgil sanders #deceit sanders #remus mention #sombra writes

[dr-gloom]

Muted

I couldn’t find the post on my blog because there’s just a lot goin on, but this is based off a post that was like: 

Person A, C, and D, all chanting in a group voice chat with B: UNMUTE! UNMUTE! UNMUTE! 

Person E: guys, shut the hell up, this is very stressful for them.

[Person A, C, D, and E all go dead silent when B finally unmutes their microphone]

Person E: ...B, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk, I get why.

Person B, softly and quietly: I-It’s okay, I’m just nervous-

Person A, distantly but very clearly: HOLY MOTHER OF FUCK I’M IN LOVE!

To be clear I did not write that post, I just can’t find the op

Anyways, they’re having a video chat on skype because I found it easier to work with an added video aspect. And Virgil is a transmale who’s only been on T for a short while. 

Part 2

Fandom: Sanders’ Sides

Pairing: none/platonic TLAMP?

Warnings/Tags: trans character, trans!Virgil, anxiety, Human AU

Read it on AO3

fic masterlist

like what I do? buy me a coffee or GoFundMe

Virgil wasn’t the most verbal person out there by far; no, that was probably Roman. Virgil hated his voice, hated talking (hated the dysphoria that would settle in his lungs and press down on his shoulders). He didn’t see why he had to - if he had something important to say, he could just write it down or type it out. If the person/people he was talking to cared, they’d wait for him to finish writing or typing. And this worked out fine for him, especially since his only friends were all hundreds of miles apart and he only talked to them on Skype. He’d met Thomas and Patton through Tumblr, and through them had met Roman and Logan respectively. The five of them had become extremely close in a short amount of time, and Virgil wouldn’t hesitate to say he thought of them as family. 

The first time they had all had a Skype call, Patton and Roman had spent at least ten minutes freaking out over people’s hair/faces/voices etc. and chattering excitedly about how they were so happy to finally put voices and faces to the names on their screens. Virgil was too, really, but he’d kept his mic off. The others knew he had anxiety so they didn’t push him or question it too much, and Virgil was glad they didn’t. Only now, he almost wishes they had, so he hadn’t had the chance to get too comfortable and scared to speak. 

Like he was now. 

What had started as a regular bi-weekly video chat between the five friends had quickly taken a turn for the worst (at least to Virgil) as Roman requested Virgil finally turn his mic on. “Come on, Hot Topic, it’s been months! I’m dying to know what you sound like.” Virgil frowned slightly and shook his head, typing in the chat component. 

Emo Nightmare: not a chance

Patton frowned, looking dejected, and Virgil instantly felt guilty. “But why not kiddo? We won’t judge you, we’re your friends!” Thomas nods emphatically. “Exactly. We just want you to be able to join in our conversations without having to type everything out. Surely it gets annoying sometimes.” Virgil pursed his lips.

Emo Nightmare: i guess, but...

“Then unmute!” Roman shouted excitedly, making Virgil jump. Oh no. “Unmute! Unmute! Unmute!” Virgil watched Roman as he pounded his fists on his desk to match his chanting, glancing at the other squares on his screen that his friends’ faces resided in, his stomach tying in knots. Patton’s grin grew as he pushed his rainbow hair out of his face, and Thomas laughed. “UNMUTE! UNMUTE! UNMUTE!” Thomas and Patton had joined Roman’s chanting, all banging their fists on whatever surface their computer sat on and it made Virgil’s heart rate speed up. Maybe he should do it? They deserved to know what he sounds like after all... Right? But he was nervous; he hadn’t been taking T long enough to really change his voice - it was only just starting to crack and deepen. Barely. He glanced down at his hands, picking at the cuff of his hoodie sleeve before responding.

Emo Nightmare: i dont know guys...

Thomas grinned as he read the message and egged him on. “Come on Virgil, we want to know what you sound like!” Patton and Roman agreed, a chorus of “come on Virgil”s and “it’ll be fine”s. But what if it wasn’t fine? What if they laughed at him? what if they took back their support and started calling him a girl? Or worse, what if they started using the wrong pronouns by accident? Because that was the truth of it; he was afraid his voice would invalidate everything he’d spent months building with his friends. That hearing his smooth, unmistakably feminine voice would make them forget who they were talking to, and when they weren’t looking they’d associate the wrong pronouns to the voice. It’d happened so many times before - he passes rather well, especially when he wears slightly baggy clothes, but as soon as he opened his mouth people would correct themselves and apologize for thinking he was a male. Virgil didn’t think he could take it, because somehow being accidentally misgendered was so much worse. 

Logan spoke up, having been sitting back in silence while the others chattered and badgered Virgil. “Everyone needs to shut the hell up, this is stressful enough for Virgil as it is.” He pushed his glasses up his nose and gave the other three males a pointed look. Virgil tried to hide the smile on his face (holy crap, Logan swore) by ducking his head down, his purple fringe covering much of his face at this angle. “Aw, we’re sorry kiddo! We didn’t mean to make your anxiety worse!” Patton practically launched himself at Virgil before remembering that there’s two computers and 500 miles between them. Virgil shrugged, typing his response as Roman spoke up, clearly looking regretful even as the smile remained on his face. “Whatever our Dark and Stormy Knight is most comfortable with is fine by me! ... But I’d still love to hear that mysterious voice of yours. I’m sure it’s positively wonderful!” Roman gestured enthusiastically. 

Emo Nightmare: thanks guys...

He could trust them. They were his friends. Thomas opened his mouth to say something when Virgil quickly turned his mic on, the soft background noise of Fallout Boy coming from his speakers. Whatever Thomas was going to say died on his lips as he realized what’s happening, and the other three seemed to be waiting with baited breath, expressions a mix of enthusiasm and excited tension. Logan’s mouth quirked to the side. “...Virgil, it’s okay if you don’t want to talk, I understand why.” Virgil swallowed and shook his head, speaking a bit hesitantly, his voice quiet. It’ll be okay. “I-it’s okay, I’m just nervous-”

Suddenly, Roman shot up from his seat, sending the rolling chair across his room as he dashed out the door suddenly. Virgil paled, feeling his heart shrivel in his chest. Oh god, Roman hated him now. He’s freaked out, disgusted. Maybe he was only trying to be polite earlier? Maybe he thought Virgil would sound more masculine by now? He wasn’t going to want to be Virgil’s friend anymore. He was going to start calling him a girl. Virgil started panicking, and Patton must have seen this, because he smiled weakly, speaking up and trying to draw Virgil’s attention. “Don’t worry Virgil, I’m sure he-”

Roman’s voice cut through, slightly muffled, but it’s clear he’s yelling from somewhere inside his house. “BY ODIN’S BEARD I’M IN LOVE!” 

There’s a beat of silence before Patton and Thomas start laughing. Logan smirks, and Virgil sinks down into his seat, his face absolutely red. “Oh my god....”

Logan looks right into the camera, making Virgil feel like he’s looking right at him. “I believe it is clear that you won’t be muting yourself anymore, Virgil.”

A/N: So yeah, super short, but it was fun.

Projecting? Who’s projecting their insecurities onto Virgil? Totally not me. 

Anyways I wrote this at school with a bunch of noise and forgot the word for enthusiasm so that was fun. 

#sanders sides #sanders sides fanfic #virgil sanders #patton sanders #roman sanders #logan sanders #trans male #sanders sides fanfictio

[ajax-b1ue]

Suspension of Disbelief: Ch 2

2018 Big Bang Fic Challenge Submission Amazing Artist, Big Bang Partner, and Header Creator: @ahoardofsides​ TW: Villainous Deceit, angst, manipulation, gaslighting, self-deprecation, self-harm, anxiety attack, violence, blood, attempted murder Pairings: Platonic LAMP WC: 2672

( Master | AO3 | 1 | Chapter 2: As You Like It | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 )

Roman reflected wryly that it was, perhaps, foolish to hope Deceit’s intrusion would be a one-time thing.

Sadly, it was not to be. Over the following days, Deceit continued to turn up, without warning, and apparently without any purpose other than to lurk over Roman’s shoulder and make sarcastic remarks.

Eventually, Roman started protesting Deceit’s presence less and less. He still insisted to himself that he didn’t trust Deceit at all! But he couldn’t ever manage to actually dispatch of the snake or expel him from his room, and at this point, it was getting to be more exhausting to try than to just deal with his continued presence.

Over time, he also protested Deceit’s backhanded compliments less as well. Roman told himself he was ignoring them, but there was also a small part of him that wished he could believe they were real.

At one point, Roman tried once more to half-heartedly question Deceit’s presence.

“I have a question for you,” Roman posed, eyeing Deceit who was draped across the foot of his bed on his back, legs hooked up over the footboard. “…Why do you insist on hanging around me like some overdressed leech??”

“I genuinely like you,” Deceit offered.

That was met with a flat glare.

Deceit rolled his eyes, but didn’t push it. “Fine. But I do prefer you over the others. I know, it’s so surprising,” he mocked. Roman still wore his distrusting expression; Deceit affected hurt. “We’ve done good work together!”

“We have never worked together! Unless you count your little workshop of horrors,” Roman sniped.

“No? Certainly not all of the acting Thomas has done,” Deceit pointed out, rolling over and sitting up. “All of the fantasies you’ve concocted for him?” From the tone of his voice Deceit actually seemed to regard those somewhat fondly.

Roman wasn’t quite able to answer that at first. He could hear his own words echoing in his head: never lie at all?? …And wasn’t it true? There was an inherent element of deception in theater. 

Luckily, his own words were not the only ones that came to mind. “There’s an unspoken agreement between an audience and the show runners, that what they’re seeing isn’t actually happening,” Roman said, recalling Logan’s argument. He looked up to meet Deceit’s gaze. “They know it’s not real.”

“Oh yes, reality is such a wonderful place to be,” Deceit deadpanned. “You know, Roman— good acting, a good fantasy, is supposed to take you away from all that. They want to be deceived.”

“Suspension of disbelief— while, yes, a vital part of enjoying any fantasy, including the theater—” Roman stopped and shook his head, refocusing— “is not the same thing as deception.”

“Falsehood,” Deceit returned easily, making Roman startle.

Deceit pretended to adjust non-existent eye glasses. The obvious imitation was not lost on Roman, who drew himself up, offended once again. Deceit just smiled, too wide, and Roman grimaced, turning away.

“Yes, well, thank you for your input, tall, dark and creepy,” he muttered.

From behind him, Deceit asked, “Would it sound better this way?” But the cadence and tone weren’t Deceit’s— they were Logan’s.

Roman whirled, shocked to see the logical side looking at him with a half-smirk. Shock quickly melted into anger: “…How… dare.” His hand went to the hilt of his sword for the first time in a long time.

Deceit glanced at the weapon, then back at Roman, unimpressed. “Oh yes, you’re going to cut down a likeness of one of your friends.” Deceit rolled his eyes behind Logan’s glasses. “Freud would have a field day. Besides,” he calmly persisted, steepling his fingers. “Don’t you want Logan’s approval? Instead of just always turning down and arguing against your ideas?”

“You are not Logan.”

“That was certainly a direct answer to my question.” Deceit’s calm smile returned. “Well. If my input isn’t welcome, perhaps you should actually share your idea with the others, then?”

“Perhaps I will!” Fed up, Roman snatched the piece of parchment from his desk.

And, for the first time in two weeks, Roman marched out of his room, down the hallway, towards the living room, and…

And, the closer he got to the sides’ common area, the less confident Roman felt. His march became more of a stroll, then more of a creep, finally hesitating just before he rounded the corner.

Was he actually ready to share what he had with the others? Or had he just let Deceit goad him into this? Roman’s gut twisted; what if Deceit’s whole purpose was to get him to make a fool of himself in front of the other sides by showing them something terrible? His hand started to clench around the piece of parchment, crumpling it. 

“Roman!”

The creative side nearly leapt out of his skin at the unexpected voice from behind him; he spun, finding Patton looking sheepish.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to startle you! I was just excited to see you out of your room,” Patton explained. The little bit of guilt that started to gnaw at Roman’s insides got quickly squashed, as Patton went on to ask, “You got something there, kiddo?”

Realizing that Patton was pointing at the paper in his hand, Roman hastily stuffed it in his pocket. “…No.”

Without another word, Roman brushed past Patton, eyes firmly fixed on the floor, and swiftly returned to his room.

Roman didn’t even get thirty seconds of solitude before Deceit’s voice— Logan’s voice— began mocking him.

“You didn’t even attempt to show them, did you?” 

Roman refused to look up, but steadily grew more and more tense.

“Would you like me to tell you what Logan would have said?” Deceit proceeded to gleefully tear into Roman’s work. “This is completely unrealistic. Utterly ridiculous. Where exactly do you think Thomas is going to be able to film a stunt like this?”

Logan’s— Deceit’s— voice dripped with disdain.

“He certainly won’t be able to afford it. And the time it would take to edit— please.”

Roman ducked his head, shoulders taut, fingernails digging into his palms.

“That’s not even starting on your weak dialogue— this pun, you’ve used it twice before. Honestly, the whole concept is just—”

The tension in Roman finally snapped. “If I’d wanted to hear this, I’d have just shown it to Logan!”

The room fell silent. Deceit pulled back, regarding the other side.

Roman turned away, flushing with heat and shame. He forced himself to sit back at his desk, pointedly avoiding looking at Deceit, even as he heard the quiet click of footsteps coming up behind his chair.

Then Deceit did something entirely unexpected. “…Well,” he offered, his voice now devoid of irony. “It does have some potential.”

Roman gaped.

“The blocking is good,” Deceit went on, continuing his assessment. “The physical humor you’ve come up with is actually funny. And this wordplay right here is very clever— especially with how you bring the joke back later in the video.” Deceit turned and eyed Roman, still wearing Logan’s appearance. Then he quirked one eyebrow. “Is that more in line with what you wanted to hear?”

Roman continued to stare, mouth hanging open, too taken aback to respond. 

One morning a couple days later found Roman standing in awkward silence in the kitchen, waiting on a pot of coffee.

What made it awkward was the fact that he wasn’t the only one there.

Roman would really have preferred nothing more than to go back to his room, but he’d also been feeling guilty over his earlier interaction with Patton, and how he’d just walked off. Since then, he’d been making a concerted effort to try to be at least a little less obvious about avoiding everyone.

So, while the other sides milled about, preparing their breakfasts and making small talk, he stood quietly off to one side, his stare fixed on the coffee pot.

Roman still hadn’t told them about Deceit lurking around his room and taunting him; his creative block was humiliating enough on its own. But even Deceit’s visits had started to take on a new, disquieting trend— Deceit was now periodically taking on the forms of the other sides to offer his comments.

It irritated Roman, a fact that he never failed to voice, but what burned him more was that… there was a part of him that clung to each scrap of false praise. That indulged in imagining that it really was Logan or Patton or Virgil praising him, extolling his work. Especially considering how few positive interactions he’d had with the others lately.

It didn’t help that Roman still didn’t have anything to show for all the time he’d spent sequestered away in his room, which hadn’t escaped the others’ notice.

It wasn’t unusual for the anxious and creative sides to trade barbs, but all of Virgil’s seemed to be more pointed than usual lately. Logan had shown considerable restraint (for him), but was starting to get less subtle in his attempts to press Roman over his seeming lack of inspiration. Thomas had been putting off working on his next project because he couldn’t come up with anything, which left both his Anxiety and his Logic irritable.

Patton was doing an admirable job of keeping things civil between everyone. More than that, he could see that something was bothering Roman, and tried to reach out to him.

“Roman… We haven’t seen a whole lot of you lately,” he started, then paused. “You think you might be up to joining us for breakfast?”

Patton gave Roman an entreating look, and Roman had to look away; Patton was hard to resist. But Roman knew, it wasn’t just about breakfast. Patton wanted to talk to him, wanted to ask what was wrong, wanted to help.

Roman wasn’t quite willing to open up, though. Things were still uncomfortable and a little tense between the four of them— the argument of two weeks ago still wasn’t forgotten. “No thanks, Patton, I’m not hungry,” Roman answered quietly, and tried not to squirm when Patton’s face fell. Instead, he turned to the coffee pot, ready to pour himself a cup and leave.

“Of course not.”

Logan’s muttered comment made Roman halt; when Virgil snorted, his hand clenched around the handle until his knuckles were white. He took a moment to steel himself before he poured out his coffee, careful not to spill any, and replaced the pot.

Then Roman turned, a tight smile plastered onto his face. “Besides,” he said loudly, as though continuing on without interruption, and startling the other three sides. “I get the feeling that I’m not particularly wanted at this precise moment.” He glared pointedly at Virgil and Logan.

“What? No!” Patton protested.

Logan’s brow was also creased. “Excuse me?”

Roman scoffed. “Do you really think of me as that dumb, Logan? I’m not deaf.” That, they all reacted to— Logan pulled back, seemingly startled, but his expression quickly became stony.

“Whoa, guys,” Patton tried to intercede, before things got out of hand; the fragile peace that they’d been maintaining was threatening to crack.

“What is your damage, Princey?” Virgil demanded, eyes narrowed.

Patton shot him a frustrated look. “Virgil— not helping.” 

Logan crossed his arms, continuing to regard Roman. “I’m quite aware that your hearing functions just fine,” he said. “In fact, it would seem that you have superhuman hearing, since you apparently possess the ability to hear things which I haven’t said.”

“I think,” Patton broke in, talking over all of them and physically putting himself between Roman and the others, “we all need to take a few minutes to cool ourselves on down.” On the surface, he seemed cheerfully calm, but his voice had a firm edge to it as he looked back and forth. “What do you say, kiddos?”

Logan wore a tight lipped expression, his eyes never leaving Roman. “Take all the time you need,” he said, voice clipped.

Roman’s fingers curled against his coffee cup again, his shoulders hunched defensively, while Patton shot Logan a warning look. Roman bit down on his tongue; he was not rising to Logan’s bait. With a forced effort, Roman made himself look down and take a slow slip of his coffee. It was bitter, and too hot to drink just yet, but he made himself swallow it anyways. 

Virgil had no such restraint. “It’s not like that’s anything new,” he sniped, quirking one eyebrow.

Roman choked, his throat burning, while Patton whirled on the anxious side, looking aghast. “Virgil!”

Anger flared in in Roman’s chest; he slammed his mug to the counter, sloshing coffee over the sides. “Okay, listen up, you All-American Reject—”

“Would you guys please stop?!” Patton suddenly shouted, startling the rest of them into silence. “Can you two stop antagonizing him?” he demanded of Logan and Virgil, who both looked taken aback at his outburst. Then he spun to face the princely side. “And Roman, that was uncalled for—”

“I don’t need your lecture!” Roman snapped without thinking.

Patton reeled as though he’d been hit.

For a full four seconds, no one said anything.

Then, Virgil’s lip curled. “What the heck is wrong with you?” he spat, ready to meet Roman’s anger head on. Likewise, Logan’s expression had become cold and steely.

Patton hastily recomposed himself, and raised his hands placatingly, still trying to de-escalate the situation. “Guys, please, this isn’t worth fighting over—”

“Like hell it isn’t!”— “Language,” Patton chided half-heartedly— “He doesn’t get to treat you like that,” Virgil growled, ignoring the moral side’s admonishment.

“I find I must agree with Virgil,” Logan said, arms crossed and voice icy.

It wasn’t that Roman didn’t feel the guilt welling up in him; it wasn’t that he didn’t regret snapping at Patton the second the words had left his mouth. It was hard to focus on those emotions, though, when they were competing with indignant outrage. And with both Logan and Virgil lined up against him, when they were the ones who had provoked him in the first place— Roman had had enough.

Patton wore a pleading look, and he opened his mouth to entreat them all again; Roman cut him off. “Don’t bother, Patton,” he said, voice tight. “There’s an extremely simple way to resolve this.”

Then Roman spun on a heel, and stormed out, not stopping until he had reached his room and slammed the door behind him. 

The creative side all but threw himself into his chair, snatching his pen from its inkwell. He practically attacked the paper, furiously trying to force a new idea to come forth.

Between writing and editing and rewriting, Roman ended up working straight through the night, trying to burn off stress. Somewhere in the early morning he became aware that he was, unsurprisingly, not alone. But for once it was easy to tune Deceit’s presence out and just be absorbed in what he was doing; also for once, Deceit remained almost entirely silent. 

Finally, Roman forced himself to stop— straightening his back, wincing as it cracked and popped— and allowed that he might actually have something worthwhile. 

At this point though, Roman didn’t know whether or not to trust himself. And so, still craving feedback and validation, he hesitantly asked, “…Deceit. What… do you think? Of this?” 

Deceit arched one skeptical eyebrow at him. Roman continued to look uncertainly in his direction, not quite making eye contact. Deceit sauntered over and eyed Roman, before glancing at the piece of paper and offering: “Absolutely dreadful.”

Roman let out a sigh of disgust, rolling his eyes, but they came back to linger on what he’d created. 

After a beat, though, Deceit leaned back over Roman’s shoulder, then pointed to a line. “…This would make more sense if it came from the other character.” This was followed by more seemingly straightforward comments on blocking and dialogue, tightening up this section here and moving that part there.

This time Roman masked his surprised, and after a few moments’ hesitation, picked up his pen again, considering Deceit’s words.

#suspension of disbelief #ts fanfiction #sanders sides #roman sanders #deceit sanders #angst #big bang